one week

Yesterday was Brooklynn's one week checkup, which means that we have had her with us for seven whole days and she is still alive.   We've had houseplants take a turn for the worse faster than that, so I'm not unhappy with our results so far. Outside of a breif walk to the park and back when she was sleeping, she hasn't left the house since we brought her home, so this was an opportunity for us to get dressed up and into our car seat for a trip to the great beyond, or just a couple miles to the doctor's office, whichever came first.


Really, it was a pretty routine visit.  We were running about 5 minutes late, which for first time parents is the equivalent to about a day early as far as I can tell.  The benifit of being just a touch late with an infant is that you get in right away, at least at this visit.  We met the nurse and headed back to the exam room.

When we were first in the hospital, any attempt to lay Brooklynn down when not firmly wrapped up in a blanket resulted in screaming, crying, and general grumpiness followed by a good dose sour attitude.  She still didn't know what to do with her arms and legs and how dare you let them loose without her permission.

Now, if she's awake and happy, she's perfectly content to move her arms and legs in a disjointed manner, kind of like a small monkey who may be a little intoxicated on something, so she just laid on the table, flailing away.

With a little work, we found out she's 21 inches long, which is the same as when she was born.  Then we stripped off the clothes down the diaper and went to the scales.  Our mini-fighter tipped the scales at 8 pounds, 7 ounces, or 2 ounces under birth weight.  Unlike boxers, more is better, at least early on, so we need to weigh a little bit more in week.

Or a little more than we measured...  As soon as we were back in the exam room waiting for the doctor, while I was still holding her, she tensed up her face, stuck her legs straight out, and let loose with a volley of three wet, sticky sounding emissions from the hind region.

Now, I understand that babies are pretty open about their bodily functions, but I'm not sure that I ever needed to experience a person under two feet tall with excrement about the consistency of diarrhea relieving themselves in my arms.

Of course, there was a diaper.  She's in newborn sizes right now, but through a few free samples, we have a couple of size one diapers in the house.  Luckily, in my 4:30am stupor the night before, I'm pretty sure I put a bigger size on her than she needed, so we had shit up the back and through two blankets before all was said and done.

I'm pretty sure we're more like three or four ounces than the seven she weighed in at.  Regardless, the doctor said we're doing well.  No signs of jaundice or any other early afflictions, so we will carry on as planned.  We walked out with an unhappy and screaming child and found out that car rides do put her to sleep.  We'll keep that fact in the memory banks.

And yes, I am saving stories like the one above for blackmail when she's a teenager.