2003 Journal Links

Guess who gained eleven ounces his first week off Portagen, his first week eating regular formula? And guess who gained another ten and a half ounces the second week of the same? By my book Archie has gained more in the last two weeks than he has since his birth.

Archie’s weight gain not only indicates that he’s doing well, but it also confirms my suspicion. Yes, Mom was right all along. My little man is not a poor eater; rather he just didn’t like what he was eating.

“You like your new formula, don’t you?” Dr. Horne asked Archie Friday. He held his fingers to the left of Archie’s face and snapped. Archie inquisitively looked toward the noise. “You’re a whole different baby, aren’t you?”

Each time Dr. Horne has seen Archie since his surgery the doctor has commented on how well the baby is doing. His comments belie his surprise. Through them I’m reminded of how sick Archie once was.

“How much Lasix is he getting?” the doctor asked me.

I answered and he instructed me to discontinue one of the doses. “Which one?” I wondered.

Dr. Horne laughed. “The evening dose, of course,” he said. “Don’t you want the wettest diaper in the morning?”

“I’d up his Captopril because of his weight gain, but I’m wondering if he even needs it anymore,” the doctor thought aloud. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Just keep giving him the dose you’re giving him. That way we’ll be able to tell. You know what to watch for, right?”

I nodded my head in response. Do I ever.

Dr. Horne moved his stethoscope around Archie’s chest, listening intently. “I don’t even hear the leak in the mitral valve anymore,” he reported. “Sometimes you can’t hear it, but I could hear it before.”

I smiled then.

“So you can draw your own conclusions.” The doctor smiled then, too. “Come back in six weeks and we’ll do an echo to check on things.”

Dr. Horne turned to me before he walked out the door. “This is how a visit’s supposed to be. No problems, nice and easy.”

I looked from the doctor to Archie who was trying hard to hold up his own head. He turned his head to the side to look at Dr. Horne and his chin bobbed up and down. Archie extended his arm toward the doctor. “Ohhhh,” he said, his eyes smiling widely.

And I’m smiling now, too.
Right now Archie is sitting in his swing. He’s kicking his legs and rubbing his face on his little blue blanket. Every so often he yells and shakes his head. “Ahh!” he’ll say aloud to no one in particular. I suspect he’s trying to tell me he’s getting hungry. It’s almost time for his 10 o’clock bottle.

But then again he may be trying to tell me he wants to be held. Figuring out what the little man wants is a full-time job. Maybe that’s why my day is utterly consumed by all things baby. Maybe that’s why I’m so exhausted. And to be fair, why Dad is exhausted, too.

As I type, Archie’s cries are getting louder, more insistent. If I don’t appear at his side soon his innocent ahh’s will escalate to full-fledged screams. This little man knows what he wants. But as demanding as he is, I wouldn’t want to spend every minute of my every day any other way.