I can hand my baby off to a complete stranger. In fact, on our long drive back to Charm City when one of the older waitresses at a cafe asked to hold her, I held her out, and G and I drank our coffee and ate our pie while all the ladies oohed and ahhed over how smiley she is.
Still, I'm learning that while I'm not uptight about her, I do get extremely worried sometimes. Mama guilt. Nora isn't gaining weight like she's supposed to. I can remind myself that while she was bigger at birth, her genetics predispose her to being tall and skinny and that she has been a high activity baby since she first arrived. But it worries me. She nurses all day long (and I do mean literally all day) and she is now eating actual food. In fact yesterday she ate an entire avocado and then threw a fit when it was gone. She doesn't make a mess eating anything because she's stubborn and willfully won't allow a single bite to not reach her.
But when we weighed her on Wednesday I was both elated and worried. She's gained a little over 1/2 a lb. Which is not bad. Her body is starting to round out a little, her belly sticking out a bit and her arms looking less like an little old woman's. However, the reality is that that still only makes her just a little over a pound from her birth weight. At six months.
I've upped my water and calorie intake. I'm taking prenatal vitamins and picking up some fish oil soon. And I keep reminding myself that other than the weight she is happy, she is growing like a weed (up), she is active, she doesn't fuss except when tired, etc, etc. Yet here I am at nearly 5 a.m., not having slept yet.
So I'm distracted by this and not so great at the whole blogging thing. This mama bear just wants to wrap up around her and make everything perfect and I feel paralyzed with this fear of ending back up in the hospital, her attached to tubes and lines again. Hopefully we'll know more soon.