IRHABIMM

It's been a rough couple of days. The fusspot has been running a fever on and off for at least 3 days. The pediatrician thought it was probably either teething or my cold and nothing to worry about. But our poor little fusspot has been hot and clingy and screaming.

There was a moment last week when at about 2 am I realized my baby was boiling and woke up my husband (something I really almost never do) so that he could rub her head and stomach with warm wash cloths while I lay half-nude on the bed and fed the baby (and all by the soft glow of police sirens, but that's a different story and another rant for a different day ... needless to say the bar on the ground floor of our building has reopened after being closed for 6 months after a fatal shooting. Gots to love NYC) and just thought how this was a classic parenting scene from some movie or other.

Oh, you say. How disappointing that you could not go on your vacation to L.A.

But never fear, this particular mother was in complete denial about her baby's health when she packed up her baby, drove the hour or so to Newark, waited 3 hours at the airport (newest pet peeve: nervous travelers who like to be super-de-duper-incredibly early to the airport. Personally I like to slide in about 5 minutes before they close check-in), flew 6 hours to L.A., drove another 1.5 hours to JD's uncle's house ...

So how do you get through all of that time in cramped spaces/facing the quick-to-judge ill-informed public with a sickly baby?

"IRHABIMM." Obviously. [For those not up on their jargon: I'd rather have a boob in my mouth.]

Security line? Time to lift up that shirt.
Turbulence? I'll have a little nom.
Traffic? Well, if you contort your body we can both keep our seat belts on and still have a go at eating.
15+ family members over for dinner, including the fusspot meeting her great-grandparents for the first time? I'll just have a little boob to calm down, thanks.
New house, new room, new bed? Why I can sleep for hours holding tight to my favorite boobie. No, not latched on our eating. Literally grabbing on with both hands (and remember, there's a lot to grab) and stirring and moaning every time I tried to liberate myself.

Which is to say if you saw a slightly frazzled, rather tired looking new mother who appeared to have lost any sense whatsoever of modesty or decorum anywhere between Manhattan and the suburbs of L.A., well, I wish you would have understood the circumstances. I would far rather breastfeed my baby across the USA then listen to her scream.

There was something quite adorable in watching my MIL walk up and down the aisles of the plane in the few minutes the fusspot was not molesting my breasts during the flight. It took me a moment to realize that she wasn't walking because the baby was fussy, but simply to have the chance to show her off to more people on the flight. And both the people in front of and behind us commented on how well-behaved she was (if only they'd known the effort it took).

I do wonder if she'll manage to gain weight during this little illness. For the record, at her (early) 6 month appointment she is now 57th percentile for weight, and following all past trends dropping down quite a bit in height and slowly moving towards the top of the chart in head circumference. Short girl, big head, pretty average overall. We're thrilled.

Two other good things happened at our 6-month check-up. I talked our pediatrician into giving me an epi-pen to travel with. I was a bit nervous about not even knowing the 9-1-1 number in some of the countries we are planning to visit, let alone being comfortable with the medical care there. So it's nice to know that in an emergency I'd have a little longer to decide what to do.

AND, big news: our lovely pediatrician said there's no rush on solids. She was a bit skeptical on why I'd want to delay, but conceeded that the fusspot was growing well and that her only firm advice is that I start at least some solids by 9 months. 9 months! I have no idea if I'll make it that long (especially since we'll be starting 9-5 daycare soon and I know it's harder to keep up your supply while pumping that much), but it's nice to not feel pressured to start immediately. And now I have an easy answer when JD's family (and select members of mine) ask about it: The doctor said it was fine.