Now normally I would post my x365 entry first thing but I have too much on my mind this morning.

Let’s just be blunt and get it out of the way: my son is small. I mean, TINY. If you are a mom then you know about the growth charts. Put it this way: in weight he’s in the 5-10 percentile. In height, he’s not even on the chart yet, he’s so small. BUT, his stats are the cut off for healthy weight and height. They just happen to be the very minimum he can be.

So basically, I’ve been starving my child. Ok, no, not really but that’s my way of dealing with failure as a mom. Or, what I perceive to be failure. He always seems like he’s eating plenty. He breastfeeds 2.5 times (morning, night, and a short feeding when I get home) a day and has what I pump at daycare. Plus, he eats half a jar of stage 3 food with oatmeal at breakfast and half a stage 3 jar around 3 pm. But after going to the doctor yesterday, he said that Elliot could stand to eat more.

And that we need to supplement.

The dreaded supplement. Like every other “never” statement that parents make, this one too was squashed. I said I’d never have an epidural. And I did. I said I’d never give him a pacifier. And I did. Except he only used it for about a month and was done. And I said I’d never give formula. And yet, I have to. The doctor thinks he needs about 6 more ounces of milk a day and I am not able to pump that much. In fact, my normal amount per day (8-9 ounces) has dropped to maybe 4-6. Sure, it may be he’s self-weaning already but since he can’t have cow’s milk until one year old, this is our only option. And seriously, if he needs to bulk up, then we’ll do it. Bulk-fest 2k8 begins TODAY.

Ash and I decided to use the doctor’s homemade formula recipe, which is evaporated whole milk, water, and karo syrup. We thought that since people have used that for a long long time, it must be tried and true. It’s not that formula isn’t fine and I am sure that 6 ounces a day for the next 3 months won’t hurt him. I just feel better about this simpler mix. BUT, the mix ends up getting wasted because it makes about 44 ounces of liquid and goes bad in two days, in which Elliot will only need 12. Oh well. It’s actually cheaper than formula so we’re living up to the American standard of wasting whatever.

I’m feeling better about all of this today but the kicker was when the doctor asked about certain milestones. “Is he cruising around the furniture?” NO. “Is he pushing up to sitting?” NO. “Is he crawling?” Not in the traditional sense, NO. Granted, babies do all this on their own little schedules and he WAS early, remember. But he said if I wanted to, I could take him to this developmental testing center.

SHOCK.

Ok, I know the doctor (who is a wonderful man, by the way) was only throwing that out there because he saw my face go into freak out mode. But after a lot of thought and talking to people, I know that Elliot isn’t having any developmental problems. The doctor came back in after we were done, just for a second, and he said, “You know what’s good?” And he put his hand on my shoulder. “The way he looks you in the eye. And he interacts. He’s fine.”

But I wish I could express what that feels like, when you think your child is failing to thrive AND may be developmentally delayed. Every parent’s nightmare. And I possibly wasn’t prepared because so many things have gone right in his life so far. He always took well to breastfeeding, he loves all solids, he sleeps in the stroller, he sleeps all night long, he laughs, he hugs (ok, sometimes he bites your shoulder if you’re carrying him but still…) This is a good baby. And I was totally ripped apart by this appointment.

So yesterday was an emotionally and mentally draining day. I think I fell asleep on the couch around 9:15, just as we started watching the new season of Deadliest Catch. Sometimes I think I sleep to get away from my problems. It makes everything so much better.

Being a parent is the most uplifting and yet heartbreaking task I have ever been put to. And it’s amazing how I just keep pushing forward, day after day, loving him more and needing him more, and becoming this other person… known as MOM.