Another Curveball

So, Little Miss G has decided that watching me jump through as many hoops as possible during these first few weeks is HIGHLY entertaining.  Her latest trick has been to give acid reflux a try.  Luckily, I have a neighbor who is a retired pediatrician.  Not so luckily, said neighbor recommended that I try cutting out dairy products from my diet.

TRANSLATION:  NO QUESO.

Within 36 hours, the no-dairy thing seemed to help out.  We are no longer sitting around after feedings waiting to catch her puke with a towel (picture a baseball catcher at the ready, and that is pretty much a spot-on visual).  And the mid-feed howling seems to be on the mend.  This is the part where I knock on wood and do every prayer/good luck dance that she doesn't have serious reflux needing more attention than a change in my diet.

But dang, even then, the whole no-dairy thing REALLY SUCKS.  I mean (insert pity party violin music here), it's bad enough that I can't breastfeed (I am having a scandalous affair with my breast pump for 3+ hours a day).  But adding reflux to the equation is just a cruel joke that the baby gods are playing on me.

That said, I am doing fine.  No tears.  I really do think the crazy hormones have left the station, so this curveball hasn't sent me crying hide in the bathroom (yet).  It's sort of the same feeling as getting a flat tire.  Just like "Man, this sucks, but it's not the end of the world."

But to look at the bright side of things, and taking away the feeding issues, Miss G is awesome.  She is alert and smiling (although I don't think that is on purpose at this age).  And, making THC proud, she has demonstrated her ability to release adult-sized gas.  I mean, her burps can wake sleeping dogs.  It cracks us up.  That, or we are just insane from sleep deprivation.