Lorelei's first doctor's visit was mostly a success. The appointment was scheduled for exactly the time she would wake up and want to be fed, so I tried to get her up early and feed her a little bit to tide her over -- but the stress of hurrying her through that made her spit up like crazy, something she rarely does. Oh well. She was very compliant for the doctor and nurse who examined her and didn't really even fuss at all. She's already up to 6 pounds and 12 ounces, which was unexpected -- the goal is for babies to regain their birth weight by 2 weeks postpartum, so she's well ahead of schedule. The doctor was pretty reassuring about all of our questions, though he did mention that she seemed like she wanted to eat and I shouldn't wait until she's crying to feed her. Umm, we're at the doctor's office and you're poking and prodding her -- how am I supposed to feed her right now?
The good news of the doctor's appointment was unfortunately spoiled by some other news: our basement flooded. Our sump pump (and backup pump) failed during the torrential downpour on Sunday and, in our baby-fueled sleep deprivation, no one thought to check the basement until Jason went downstairs to do the laundry this morning. It was a nightmare, to say the least -- my school files and books took the worst beating, as well as some of the art we haven't ever gotten around to hanging up since we moved in (I know, I know). My amazing brother Ross drove out from Chicago and spent the afternoon and evening toting and carrying things from the basement to try to salvage them, wet-vac-ing every square inch of the basement, and being a calming influence to try to help us stay sane in the face of disaster.
We're just waiting to find out what new adventures we'll be facing tomorrow...
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