So....here we are again. Waiting. Sitting in the foot- tapping, watch- checking, nervous-throat-clearing, proverbial waiting room of existence- anticipating, hoping, worrying, and doing all we can do to not burst out of our skin to KNOW something.
I'm not sitting idly by though. I have been combing the aisles of the grocery stores looking for fat-laden, wholesome yet often fryable art in hopes of adorning my son's body with a little extra bulk. To his credit, he has been a willing apprentice, worthy of studying under Kobayashi when it comes to tater tots, cheese stuffed pretzels, fried green beans, pizza rolls, buttery sweet potatoes, and even a whole slice of pizza. Fruit slices sandwiched with cheesecake filling, German sausages, ice cream bites, cheese filled ravioli...the appetite has definitely taken a turn for the chubby. Fear not, friends, he has not forgotten his porcine first love. Just this week he shoved his bottle onto the floor in protest when he discovered I was holding out and had bacon I wasn't serving him.
(Fuzzy phone pic courtesy of Papa Johns!)
While my guts are twisted in a happy dance at his obvious effort to comply with the orders to chub up or tube out, I hesitate to celebrate. There's a week left until weigh in, and no, I won't be able to breathe until then. I have sworn he was looking chubbier and feeling heavier half a dozen times, only to be devastated when the scale refused to give up a gain. Now I am vigilant, militant, and insistent that we keep our heads down and don't celebrate until the goal is on the scoreboard. Onward!
I was caught off guard by a call from clinic today, informing me that J grew Staph A in his culture again. Since he is currently asymptomatic, we didn't start a new course of antibiotics, and are hoping that serious threats and strict compliance will keep the dirty little colony at bay. But nevertheless, a little wind left the sails that it even made its presence known.
Midnight feeding time is nigh, my dears, so I bid you goodnight, and promise to add pictures tomorrow.
I'm not sitting idly by though. I have been combing the aisles of the grocery stores looking for fat-laden, wholesome yet often fryable art in hopes of adorning my son's body with a little extra bulk. To his credit, he has been a willing apprentice, worthy of studying under Kobayashi when it comes to tater tots, cheese stuffed pretzels, fried green beans, pizza rolls, buttery sweet potatoes, and even a whole slice of pizza. Fruit slices sandwiched with cheesecake filling, German sausages, ice cream bites, cheese filled ravioli...the appetite has definitely taken a turn for the chubby. Fear not, friends, he has not forgotten his porcine first love. Just this week he shoved his bottle onto the floor in protest when he discovered I was holding out and had bacon I wasn't serving him.
(Fuzzy phone pic courtesy of Papa Johns!)
While my guts are twisted in a happy dance at his obvious effort to comply with the orders to chub up or tube out, I hesitate to celebrate. There's a week left until weigh in, and no, I won't be able to breathe until then. I have sworn he was looking chubbier and feeling heavier half a dozen times, only to be devastated when the scale refused to give up a gain. Now I am vigilant, militant, and insistent that we keep our heads down and don't celebrate until the goal is on the scoreboard. Onward!
I was caught off guard by a call from clinic today, informing me that J grew Staph A in his culture again. Since he is currently asymptomatic, we didn't start a new course of antibiotics, and are hoping that serious threats and strict compliance will keep the dirty little colony at bay. But nevertheless, a little wind left the sails that it even made its presence known.
Midnight feeding time is nigh, my dears, so I bid you goodnight, and promise to add pictures tomorrow.
You're so dedicated. So lovely. He is so lucky to have such an amazing mother.
ReplyDeleteBeing a mom is difficult.
Being a CF mom? So much more than that. You are amazing.
Hoping all the delicious foods fatten him up! Weight is always so scary with CFers. Praying for a good weigh in next week for you!
ReplyDeleteSo, I've kinda given up on the twitter thing for the time being, it was making my brain explode - but that doesn't mean I don't still think about you and that *freaking adorable* pizza-munching baby of yours! I have my fingers, legs, and eyes crossed that this blitz works for you both. Hugs!
ReplyDeleteI need to find you on the bookface.