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Where did my newborn go? - Elizabeth Unexplained
Lots of data but no answers
greyautumnrain
greyautumnrain
Where did my newborn go?
Yesterday we lowered the mattress in Margaret's crib a notch. She gets herself into a sitting position unaided these days (not always easily, but she can do it), and she's doing the pre-crawling thing where she rocks back and forth on her hands and knees. Clearly actual crawling and pulling to a stand are just over the horizon, thus higher bars on the baby jail seemed in order. Didn't we just have a tiny, helpless newborn the other day? You know, like yesterday when it was 90 degrees outside and our air-conditioning was broken. Sure, there are several inches of snow outside waiting for me to shovel this morning, but I could have sworn it was hot and thundering and I had a newborn just the other day.

In the ongoing saga of the gradual weaning, one of us clearly has a stronger will than the other. Margaret will grudgingly be coaxed into taking a half ounce or so from a bottle that I attempt to give her, but while she drank all the formula-augmented bottles this past week with apparent gusto, when I am around she is clearly aware that there is better stuff to be had, and she knows exactly where I keep the goods. She also knows that if she refuses the bottle long enough while clawing at my chest that I will eventually cave. Giving up the night-time pump may have be celebrating, but clearly cutting out actual nursing sessions is going to be every bit as tough as I imagined, and then some. Margaret knows where my boobs are and she is not shy about letting me know when she wants access.

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