I should be punished for my lack of blogging. And that's all I have to say about that.
Gwen Avery Ericksen. The world's most chipper, lively, little nugget. I love this baby to the moon and back. She has further defined the word "Mother" to me. We have a special bond and I thank my Father in Heaven everyday for sending her to me. Between her and my amazing, tom-boy toddler - I couldn't be more blessed.
Gwen had a rough beginning to her life. She suffered from gas and acid reflux. My hearts broke to see her in pain and sit by feeling helpless. They prescribed her Zantac which seemed to help about as much as a prescription for chapstick would have helped the situation. My poor baby was always uncomfortable and/or in pain. She would wake up from a deep sleep screaming and covered in puke. She never seemed content during the day. It was a hard road. And in all honesty, I wasn't sad for myself. I never thought "I wish she was an easier baby" for me. I always felt for her sake. I wanted her to be happy for herself. It's a terrible feeling to watch an infant in distress and not be able to do anything for her. What kind of a mother did that make me? This question plagued me frequently. But I always felt love and compassion toward Gwen. I never resented her. I only wished health and happiness upon her.
Thankfully Gwen was a good sleeper and always has been. The persistence of sleep training has always paid off for me and I am so grateful to have 2 beautiful babes who sleep 12 hours through the night and have since they were 12 weeks old.
Gwen was born very small. At 5 lbs. 12 oz. she looked like a toy doll. Preemie clothes were all that fit her. I loved having a tiny baby. She was so beautiful and perfect. I couldn't have loved her anymore. Soon, babies that were Gwen's same age started growing. At first I thought it was cute how she weighed less at 3 months than most full term babies weighed. I thought nothing more of it. She was born small - thus she'd be a little behind in gaining weight. Soon, however, it seemed odd. At 5 months, Gwen was still wearing newborn diapers and newborn clothes comfortably. Strangers constantly commented on her size and I grew self conscious. We made an appointment to see Gwen's new doctor after moving to Florida. Her doctor was abrupt. Although I appreciate her aggressive nature as a doctor, I felt embarrassed as a mother. How could I not have seen the issue at an earlier age? Why hadn't I expressed concern about her size previously? More importantly; what had I done wrong? Thoughts raced through my head and almost demoralized me. Being a mother is my greatest calling in life. To feel as though I had done it all wrong shamed me. I felt like everyone was staring at me and quietly thinking I was a bad Mom.
After some suggestions, referrals, and follow-up appointments, Gwen's doctor diagnosed her with Failure to Thrive noting that she was malnourished. I know there are worst things to hear as a parent. But to me, this was heart breaking. It was an F on my Motherhood report card. Someone was insinuating that I had starved my child. That I didn't offer her the right care that a responsible mother should.
Gwen is still being tested to see "why" she has a failure to thrive. And I have tried to accept that it's not my fault. But those negative thoughts still seem to be part of my though processes. At this point I just snuggle my little baby even more and pray that she is alright inside and out. She's perfect to me. But I hope that her health and size can soon be "perfected" as it pertains to medical standards. She brings so much joy to my life and to our family. We couldn't imagine a better piece to our family puzzle. Gwen puts a smile on every persons face. I can't express how perfectly she completes me.
