After numerous trips to the doctor with queries about stomach issues, colic, and acid reflux, we had a second doctor in the practice take a look at little Lauren today. His professional opinion and diagnosis? After Lindsay regurgitated Lauren's entire medical history (which in nine weeks is far longer than my own personal medical history over the past 20 years - yep, I'm one of those many people with health insurance that subsidizes all the other people that actually use the group policy), the doctor came to a startling conclusion and diagnosis: It might just be possible that we have a "temperamental" child.
While I'm sure there's a reason for her discomfort and we'll obviously continue to try different things to figure out the cause, it was actually a little refreshing to hear a diagnosis so simple as that. And how has Lauren reacted to the news? Sleep. Finally. It's the first evening in recent memory that we've had time to clean up the house, get somewhat organized, and write a little bit. Of course, as I type this, she's sleeping with a bit of a smirk on her face as if to say, "enjoy it while you can, buddy, but be warned; because when it goes bad, it's going to go BAD."
She's actually been fairly decent at sleeping in the night. Sure, she still gets up at least once at a time that a normal person would consider ill-opportune, but for the most part during the middle of the night she basically wakes up, gets changed, eats, stays upright long enough so as to not get the hiccups, and dutifully falls back asleep. It could be a lot worse. And it is, during the days. I was under the impression that the only cohort that sleeps longer than infants is college students. While it might be the case, not with my infant. It's one of the many times I've heard the phrase, "every baby is different," over the past 63 days.
Regardless, tonight marks the night we're changing sleeping arrangements. For the first seven weeks, Lauren slept in the pack-and-play next to our bed, which if not for the University of South Florida (located in Tampa) would be the most misnamed noun in the world as it neither easily packs nor seems like a cool place to play. I traveled for business during the eighth week. Lindsay took that opportunity to move Lauren to the nursery and moved herself to the guest room that shares a Jack-and-Jill bathroom with the nursery. Baby steps but steps none the less. When I got home, we stayed in the guest room; partially because it was convenient and partially because while I was away the baby monitor had broken (Lindsay claims she held it next to her iPhone and the monitor "scrambled"; I have no way to confirm or refute this story as she had already contacted the manufacturer and arranged for a new one to be sent up on receipt of the new one). Whatever the case, we didn't have a monitor so we remained in the guest room. Last night, the monitor showed up (OK, in the spirit of full disclosure, it actually showed up like 3 days ago but I was simply too lazy to open it and get it set up until now; like I said, Lauren can be a little high maintenance), so we had one "final" night in the guest room (which was one of her better nights, including a nearly 7 hour window between feeds, which only added to our confidence as new parents and that Lauren (yeah, that's right, Lauren) was ready to be on her own).
Let's just hope the little temperamental one feels the same way.
While I'm sure there's a reason for her discomfort and we'll obviously continue to try different things to figure out the cause, it was actually a little refreshing to hear a diagnosis so simple as that. And how has Lauren reacted to the news? Sleep. Finally. It's the first evening in recent memory that we've had time to clean up the house, get somewhat organized, and write a little bit. Of course, as I type this, she's sleeping with a bit of a smirk on her face as if to say, "enjoy it while you can, buddy, but be warned; because when it goes bad, it's going to go BAD."
She's actually been fairly decent at sleeping in the night. Sure, she still gets up at least once at a time that a normal person would consider ill-opportune, but for the most part during the middle of the night she basically wakes up, gets changed, eats, stays upright long enough so as to not get the hiccups, and dutifully falls back asleep. It could be a lot worse. And it is, during the days. I was under the impression that the only cohort that sleeps longer than infants is college students. While it might be the case, not with my infant. It's one of the many times I've heard the phrase, "every baby is different," over the past 63 days.
Regardless, tonight marks the night we're changing sleeping arrangements. For the first seven weeks, Lauren slept in the pack-and-play next to our bed, which if not for the University of South Florida (located in Tampa) would be the most misnamed noun in the world as it neither easily packs nor seems like a cool place to play. I traveled for business during the eighth week. Lindsay took that opportunity to move Lauren to the nursery and moved herself to the guest room that shares a Jack-and-Jill bathroom with the nursery. Baby steps but steps none the less. When I got home, we stayed in the guest room; partially because it was convenient and partially because while I was away the baby monitor had broken (Lindsay claims she held it next to her iPhone and the monitor "scrambled"; I have no way to confirm or refute this story as she had already contacted the manufacturer and arranged for a new one to be sent up on receipt of the new one). Whatever the case, we didn't have a monitor so we remained in the guest room. Last night, the monitor showed up (OK, in the spirit of full disclosure, it actually showed up like 3 days ago but I was simply too lazy to open it and get it set up until now; like I said, Lauren can be a little high maintenance), so we had one "final" night in the guest room (which was one of her better nights, including a nearly 7 hour window between feeds, which only added to our confidence as new parents and that Lauren (yeah, that's right, Lauren) was ready to be on her own).
Let's just hope the little temperamental one feels the same way.
