So today was Lain’s wellcheck: the periodic visits just to make sure that everything is progressing as it should. Everything came out aces, but only after some real turbulence. Though Clancy is usually the one that takes Lain in for these visits – because it provides me 90-120 minutes of uninterrupted peace and it gives her the opportunity to show the baby off to coworkers – I had to do it this time because she was in the L&D waiting to deliver somebody else’s little sprite.
We were seeing Dr. Gannon, who is the tax-sensitive, part-time physician I have referred to a couple of times who delivered Lain. But first was the nurse (I say “nurse” but it might have been a medical assistant). We weighed Lain and that’s when the trouble started. She was 13.4 pounds, which is significantly lighter than the last time we had her weighed in Umatilla. I immediately expressed some concern about this – anticipating how Clancy would respond after I informed her – but my concerns were hand-waved away. Clancy texted me asking about how the measurements came out while I was waiting for Dr. G.
I was foolishly hoping I would get this past her so that she would avoid freaking out while she was over in L&D and could do nothing about it. So I just threw a whole bunch of numbers at her: Head to rump measurement, height, head circumference, and weight.
“13.4?!?!” I hadn’t succeeded. This was followed by a couple other very, very anxious texts. She was not happy when, in Umatilla, she hadn’t gained any weight over the previous visit. Losing weight was a big deal. And if even I was concerned, she would be doubly so.
When Dr. Gannon entered, he very briefly glanced over the measurements and then we started talking about other development milestones (Is she responding to your tone of voice? Has she displayed curiosity?). All good, but then I brought up the weight again. He looked closer and immediately came to the conclusion that Clancy and I had: something was wrong. Not just that our baby wasn’t growing like she should, but that the measurement had to be off. Had to be! She’d slimmed up a little bit, but she’d also grown taller. Losing over a pound? Couldn’t be.
And, fortunately, wasn’t. I asked that she be weighed again, this time with the assistance of Clancy’s former MA, and it came out at 15 pounds, which is almost exactly where she should be according to the growth curve.
So, after some panic, it turns out that we are not starving our child.
It’s actually quite interesting to me how much dogs can understand our language. I mean, it’s tone of voice mostly, but still.
The other day I was out with Lisby and there was a rabbit in the yard. There are often rabbits in the yard. Lisby has very strong opinions about rabbits and what should be done with them. Unfortunately, since our yard isn’t fenced in, this poses a danger. I’m trying to teach her that it’s okay to chase the rabbit, but that she can’t leave the yard. This would be our compromise (the hard line didn’t, at all).
Anyway, so there was the dog looking at the rabbit, for whatever reason not bursting after it this time. I told her to stay. I told her to stay. I wanted to give myself the illusion of control here. She obeyed. Then I said, quite calmly, “Okay, Lisby, go get the rabbit.”
She was suddenly a white blur (seriously, that dog is a rocket). The rabbit, not knowing the rules, would run back and forth across the yard rather than across the street. But, to Lisby’s credit, when I told her to stop as she was about to leave the yard with the rabbit, she stopped.
Out behind our house is a shed for the parks department. I have learned that Lisby can, with some effort, fit under the shed.
There was a rabbit in there. And Lisby has very strong opinions about rabbits.