Itty Bitty Baby

I'm still behind on Christmas posts, but I wanted to get some things down in writing about Fiona before I forget it all.

You might recall that at Fiona's 6 month well baby check, she hadn't grown much since her last checkup. She only gained 4 ounces in weight and 0 cm in height over a 2 month span. Dr. Dastvan wanted to see her back in a month to check her weight.

When Fiona was 7 months old (2 weeks ago), we went back in and found out that she lost three ounces . So, she was down to 11 lbs 15 oz. She then was diagnosed with "failure to thrive" which really just means that she's not growing. I really think it's a silly term, but whatever.

At this point, Dr. Dastvan wanted to run several labs to make sure that she didn't have an underlying condition causing her slow growth. She also gave us a referral for nutrition counselling. Neither the doctor nor I were very concerned because we had identical issues with Gwen. The testing was really just to follow protocol.

We did a urine test and blood work which was not fun. I held Fiona while she cried and Gwen held me while I cried. Ok, I didn't really cry, but I wanted too.

Our appointment with the nutritionist wasn't all that helpful. She really didn't hit me with any big revelations. I saw a nutritionist when Gwen was a baby and saved all of the information they gave me and was already following it religiously.

One thing that noted was some of Fiona's quirks when it comes to food. She had rejected all pureed foods and most foods that are wet and mushy. The one thing that she really likes is dry foods. She will eat freeze-dried apples, but not apple sauce or apple juice. She likes puffs, but won't eat them if they have fallen out of her mouth- I'm assuming because they've gotten wet.

The nutritionist also asked me several questions not related to food and I began to wonder where this was all going. We talked about her sleep problems in detail as well.

The nutritionist told me that she thinks Fiona has sensory issues and recommended that we see an occupational therapist for an assessment. She said that a therapist would be able work with her on her food issues and help her to become more open to trying new flavors, textures, etc. She said she really won't be able to help us until these things improve.

I called my sister-in-law, Audra who is an autism therapist and a published author on autism. She thinks Fiona is way young to start speculating about things and said that it's very trendy to diagnose kids with sensory issues. After our conversation, I was felt very reassured and have decided not to worry about it. Of course, I will follow through with the assessment, but I'm not going to stress over it.

Today we made an attempt to do the last bit of lab work. It's called a sweat chloride test which tests for Cystic Fibrosis . The test can only be done at Children's Hospital. Our appointment was for noon. We got there right on time, but waited in line at the entrance to get my badge. Then we waited in another line at registration. Finally, we got registered and we were sent to another lobby where the lab is located. When I finally got to the lab, they gave me a pager and told me it would buzz when they were ready for me. Kinda like going to Claim Jumper but way less fun.

After waiting for 25+ minutes (does having an appointment mean nothing?) Gwen had to go to the bathroom. I asked the person at the front desk if I had time to take her before our turn. The person said, "Oh, I was just about to come and find you and send you to a different lab." Oh really? What a coincidence. I wonder how much longer I would have waited in the wrong lab before anybody noticed I was there.

We finally got to the correct lab, but not before making a stop at the restroom that reeked of stale urine. Even worse, it had one of those toilets that sprays toilet water in a 6 foot radius around it as it flushes. Gross. Anyway, but the time we got to the lab, we had already been at the hospital for 45 minutes. Oh, and Gwen, Fiona and I were all covered with toilet water mist.

For the first part of the test, they strapped this weird contraption to Fiona's arms that sends some kind of tingly shock onto her forearm. It also had some sort of medication on it- all for the purpose of stimulating her sweat glands. We had to do 7 minutes on each arm.

Next, they taped some paperlike discs to her arms that are supposed to soak up the sweat. Then they wrapped her arms in saran wrap that smelled like school lunches and then covered her arms in socks. I was instructed to put a coat on her and wrap her up as best as I could to get her nice and sweaty. They then sent us away and told us to come back in 30 minutes.

Thank goodness I brought my ipod. Gwen was in heaven watching movies on a tiny screen and messing with all of the medical equipment. She was seriously so good. Fiona on the other hand was not a fan of any of this and cried pretty much the whole time.

I used our 30 minute break to refuel Fiona in hopes to give her a little rest. Plus, nursing always makes her nice and toasty.

Finally, we went back in and they checked her little sweat-absorbent discs to make sure there was enough sweat on it to run tests. Guess how much sweat was on it?

None.

At this point there was plenty of sweat on my body to fill 20 of those discs. In fact, I wasn't feeling very well at all by this point. I was up all night with a crying baby. I was over-dressed and over-heated. I was hungry and the smell of the school lunch saran wrap was making me feel pukey.

What a waste of two hours. Four if you count the commute.

I was told that I would need to reschedule and try again. I'm ready to skip that part and make my own diagnosis. Seriously, does she look to you like she had Cystic Fibrosis.

Anyway, we have another weigh-in tomorrow with Dr. Dastvan. I'm praying that the buttered toast I've been giving her sticks to her thighs like it does with mine.

And I think that's the whole story.

Two more things before I sign off...

1. I'm not really worried about her weight. The girl eats like a horse.
2. I can't remember what number two was.

Time for bed...I will report her weight gain (or heaven forbid- loss) tomorrow.

PS. I'm not proofreading or spell checking this. It's just way too long. Most of you stopped reading by paragraph three anyway. Whoever is still reading loves me enough to forgive the typos.