Without a doubt, Hooper’s difficulty with putting on weight as an infant had a major impact on me. It’s the culprit behind my obsession with what he eats now as a toddler. I should preface this post with clarifying that Hooper’s weight was never an issue for anyone besides myself. His pediatrician asked that he come back more frequently to be weighed, but he never declared it to be an “issue” and never suggested that I supplement with formula. Taking him back frequently to be weighed, however, made me neurotic. I’d make sure to feed him just before entering the office in an effort to get just a couple ounces higher on the scale. Once he started eating solids, I’d give him as big of a meal as I could before taking him to get weighed. Secretly, I’d even hope that he’d forgo his morning shit just to add the additional ounce or whatever. I know, I’m a total wack job. I grew obsessed, and well, it’s stuck. I spent much of his first year wondering if I was giving him enough, if I was producing enough, if he was healthy. Then, after I stopped breastfeeding at a year and I could monitor completely what was going in and how much, I realized he was fine. If he was hungry, he would eat more. If you are a regular reader of this blog you know my son is difficult to feed and picky, but he does eat. After a while, I chalked his weight issues up to the fact that both Willy and I are tall and thin and it therefore only made sense that our child would be the same.
And then Van was born.
And he’s a beefcake. Coupled with the fact I don’t see much of myself in his appearance, I’ve wondered once or twice if I brought the wrong baby home from the hospital. My midwife told me that milk comes in faster and is more plentiful with the second child, but I didn’t believe her with all my heart. I don’t know the reason behind the difference in weight, but I’m oh so thankful to tuck those anxieties away in a memory box.
The onesie in the photos above is the same. Hooper is 22 weeks and Van is 6. Van has already grown out of it as evidenced by the amount of cleavage he is showing and the downward pull. I felt bad after a while of having him in it and actually unbuttoned the snaps to provide more comfort. I took it off at the end of the day and tucked it away in a bag in his closet labeled, “for the next baby”. Are you guys as astonished as I am… We’re talking about a difference of SIXTEEN weeks here people :: scratches head ::
