Duncan and Tristan had their 4-month check up on Friday. We wore ourselves out in a flurry of weekend expeditions at the beginning of January and had subsequently lapsed into a state of housebound exhaustion, so this was their first outing in quite a while. They seemed happy with the change of scenery, smiling and cooing at everyone we saw (except when needles were in action) and behaving angelically while Dane and I dispensed advice to an expectant mother of twins in the waiting room. There may have been some exhausted crying after we got home, but if there was I've chosen to forget it. I was busy devouring a foot-long sub, anyway.
During the check up we learned that Duncan weighed 14 lbs., even. Tristan was just a couple of ounces behind him. That's in roughly the 30th percentile for their chronological age and the 80th percentile for their adjusted age. Basically, they are fat. I credit all of the butter and pizza I've been feeding them. And the aforementioned sub. Their heights (something shy of 2 feet) and head circumferences were in about the 50th percentile for their adjusted age. Tristan's head is somewhat larger than Duncan's, making us feel a little more justified in sometimes referring to the poor child as "the kid with the fat head." They are babbling and chewing hands and trying to roll over right on schedule. However, they're not ready for sitting or solid foods because, as the doctor said while oo-ing and aah-ing at them, "They're just too floppy!" This wasn't news to us. I like to entertain myself by propping them up and watching them list; Dane balances them on their chubby haunches and lectures them about proprioception while they fall.
In short, they are in perfect glowing health. The only small problem is that Duncan has a mild case of iron deficiency anemia. Tristan does not, but his hemoglobin is on the low side of normal. They're both now on iron supplements, and we'll check to make sure the problem is fixed at the 6-month appointment.
Meanwhile, we're working on getting my milk production back to normal. The day after Duncan and Tristan's appointment I had another unpleasant bout of mastitis. Once I was well enough to recover my sense of humor, James Harriot jokes abounded. Frustrated with having the same problem over and over, I finally went to the doctor. There I was given a handout that said, "Get extra sleep and spend time resting with your feet up. Clogged ducts and breast infections are often the first sign that a mother is becoming overly tired." Two paragraphs later it also suggested helpfully that I should "nurse or pump every two hours, including through the night." Thank you, handout! Does no one proofread these? I highlighted those sections and plan to post them on the fridge. I've only recently gotten to the point where I can spend less than three solid hours per day pumping, allowing me (theoretically) to sleep more. I'm sure reading those suggestions will cheer me up while I'm staggering around the in the wee hours carrying a baby or two.
At any rate, I was given antibiotics to keep in the house in case my temperature goes over 101 F again and told to otherwise keep doing what I'm doing. The doctor's exact words were, "I salute you." That was encouraging.
So, to summarize this rambling post: Two fat healthy babies are still being fed (mostly) by one skinny planetary scientist. The doctors approve.
2 comments:
Awwww...two cuties :-) And the babies look good too! Oh, and I wanted to suggest fenugreek to help milk production, but you'll smell like maple syrup.
Keep up the good work!
Yeah, my mom sold me on the fenugreek when they were about a month old. It really does help the milk production -- but more than that it seems to reduce the problems with clogged ducts. I even make poultices of mashed seeds when I have a bad problem. The doctor poo-pooed that, but empirical evidence is on my side. :-)
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