A month has passed to the day since Baxter joined our family. Time is whizzing past and our routine is no routine at all. Life is lived in small moments, errands are tucked into gaps and the balance serves the needs of this helpless, yet rather boisterous little man.
Moments after his first official weigh-in, Baxter blew out enough meconium to patch the average pothole on the DVP. The regaining of this weight, combined with normal weight loss during any baby’s first week became our priority for the next three weeks.
Who would have thought that feeding a baby would be such a challenge? Big boys aren’t good latchers, we’re told. Finger feeding (a large syringe with a tube filled with breast milk) became the order of the day. Baxter doesn’t chug (he’s a sipper), so combine 50ml (50 min) of finger feeding, with 60 minutes of latch practice, a diaper change or two—then repeat every two hours—and you’ll find an exasperated family (especially during the night).
Three weeks later, Baxter hit his birth weight to the ounce, which means no referrals to specialists were required. Yay! A month down the road and he’s just hit the 10lb 5oz mark on the button. We can stop finger feeding and use a bottle for supplemental feeds which are administered during his ‘cluster feeding’ periods (we’ve dubbed ‘cluster *$%#’ periods). He now sleeps 4 to 5 hours at night, as if to say, ‘Finally you people are leaving me alone to sleep’.
The change is so constant and so positive, we forget the previous week’s challenges. We’re constantly distracted by Baxter’s goofy faces, wild staring eyes, his sleepy Damien Omen impression, his waking dance and random smiles that are for your eyes only. As I write these final words, I can hear Baxter blasting panicked breathless screams upstairs. We continue down the road.