My stomach drops every time I think about the appointment tomorrow morning. I am dreading walking into the doctor's office. I am dreading the scale. But, this time it is not me that must be weighed.
The little man was a peanut when he was born: 6 pounds, 5 ounces. When we left the hospital, he was barely 6 pounds. While he has always been a champion eater, he is also a very wiggly little baby. There is always something that he needs to look at, that he needs to explore. He is always moving. He is skinny. Our pediatrician thinks that, most likely, there is nothing wrong, that the little man just burns everything he eats.
At his six month appointment, when I placed the little man on the scale, he was a little over 13 pounds. At six months. The nurse said that his weight couldn't be right. Surely, he wasn't that light. My stomach dropped when she asked me to place him back on the scale. Nope, he was only 13 pounds. And for a six month old little boy, 13 pounds is off the growth chart. Off the bottom of the growth chart.
Our pediatrician wanted to see the little man in six weeks to check his weight. Six weeks is tomorrow.
I have been trying to stuff the little man. I have been mixing in olive oil to his food. I have tried everything to get him to eat as much as possible. I know which foods have the greatest number of calories. I mix oatmeal in everything. I think, I hope, that the little man has a bit more chub than before. But will it be enough? I'm not sure.
I am dreading tomorrow. Because although I know that the little man is doing great: he is crawling, cruising, babbling, smiling and inhaling breastmilk, I am terrified that it won't be enough. I am terrified that something is wrong. I am scared of a label: "Failure To Thrive." Please, let him be thriving.