Yesterday morning we got a call from Alf's office; there'd been a cancellation and they slipped us in for a 2:30 appointment so we wouldn't have to make a separate trip down to Machias on Friday (we were already making the hour-long trip far too many times this week - four, not counting Friday). After swinging by school and taking Olive around to meet the folks there (three people thought she was a boy, as I'd dressed her in her pale yellow otter onesie; there are shades of blue in the otter's fur, so of course she was looking like a boy! My favorite, though, is the assumption that comes from her having so little hair. I mean, obviously girl babies have hair, boys do not. Honest mistake.), we grabbed Zoe from school a little bit early, and zipped down Machias way.
The nurse who took her measurements gushed over her perfect head and how she should be the next Gerber Baby (a comment my own mother got about me), that we needed to send her picture to Parents magazine or some such nonesense. Sure, it's a compliment, but never would we stoop to such exploitation; first that, then the pageant scene...no, thank you.
She'd gained a whopping two pounds since her visit a month ago, so she's all set in that department. I was eager to raise the issue of the frenulum breve with Alf because the sooner it's done, the better. He was able to perform the procedure right then and there, which was a relief. I've been wanting to start nursing more, both for the ease and simplicity of it, and the bonding that comes with it. He brought in with him an entourage made up of interns, assistants, and Dr. Prabakaran, her original pediatrician who has the personality of a bath mat. Including Olive, there were nine people in the little room. Alf asked me to come and hold her head still while the staff gathered aroud Alf and his snippers. I cringed as he went in with the numbing agent, swabbing her chin and mouth; she was already getting agitated. I had to look away when I saw the instrument descend on her little, wailing mouth, and the tears welled up in my eyes. The harder she cried, the less I was able to contain myself. At one point, I felt a tear make its way down my face, neck, and stomach, until it stopped, absorbed by the waist of my jeans. Looking back, I saw Zoe, also in tears, being comforted by the ever-composed Rob. He should've been the one holding her head. When it was over, they handed her to me so she could nurse, as that would help stop the little bleeding there was. How horrible it was to look into her mouth at the sight of blood. The bleeding stopped very quickly, and she soon calmed down. In the car afterwards, Zoe reported on several appearances of the newly elongated tongue - the better to lick ice cream with, I say!
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