So I brought Sadie in to see the surgeon who placed her g-tube for another follow-up hoping that she would need a larger size button. We’d been doing some wishful thinking over here imagining that when we lifted her up from her crib she felt soooo much heavier. Not so much. In fact, her weight was lower in the surgeon’s office than it was the last time we saw our nutritionist. But, then again, she’d puked three times on the way over – apparently she gets car sick – and everyone knows the best time to weigh yourself if you’re hoping for a low number is after a good bout with puking.
I know what you’re thinking, how about a less blowing chunks chat and a more pictures – yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ll get there but right now we’re going to hear more about Sadie’s weight so deal with it or scroll the hell down and stop being such a bunch of harpies. Now, as I was writing, the doctor told us that we needed to put some more pounds on her. Really? That’s great advice! We hadn’t thought of that. Oh, wait, yes we did. That’s why we had YOU place a god damn fucking g-tube! (I’m not sure the exclamation point was entirely necessary when that was already in italics but whatever – I was pissed -get it?) The doctor wondered if she was getting the right amount of calories.
I explained that Sadie, ever conscious that this is bikini season was currently doing the South Beach diet and really kicking ass. The hardest part for her is the “no alcohol” which I completely understand. He didn’t think it was funny but the nurse chuckled – then someone (another nurse or resident or random dumbass) commented “Wow, she’s the size of a ten-month-old” and I left my body for a few minutes, quietly had a panic attack, talked myself down from it, came back to earth and smiled vaguely while calling her a cocksucker in my head.
The doctor did say that Sadie looks healthy and “a hundred times better than when he last saw her,” although I didn’t know she looked bad back then. It’s kind of like if you started going to the gym, lost five pounds and someone was like, “Whoa, you look amazing! Did you lose twenty pounds? You look a hundred times better. I bet you can almost wear a bathing suit!”
God, I take things personally don’t I? I realize I have issues.
So I got home and emailed my nutritionist who immediately emailed me back and sternly told me to calm down. I love her.
Truthfully, Sadie is actually eating better. She’s getting her speech therapy, physical therapy, occupational therapy and we’re feeding her more in the tube overnight. That’s about all we can do. I know I’ve said I accept what’s going on with her, and I do, I really really do. And I know it will all work out exactly how it’s supposed to. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a tad aggravating when doctors say dumb things. And I don’t care if you do work for Cedar’s.
Sorry, can’t let you leave without another hit of cuteness. My God, it’s like they’re simply BEGGING to be models. It’s all I can do to restrain myself from signing them with Eileen Ford petites. I have a feeling these twins were born to be exploited.