Mom and I are getting ready to go to the breastfeeding clinic. This place brings back many memories for me, some extremely stressful. I remember the first few times bringing Noé to the clinic, it was an ordeal just getting there! How to time it, how to avoid huge meltdowns (both by Noé and myself!), will Noé have gained weight from the last time, why does he cry so much, how long will it take to get to see the nurse, will the lactation consultant be there, will they be able to help me. I would stress all week, just waiting for Thursday to come around so that I could get in there and talk to someone again about the plethora of problems I was having.
This time, I almost feel guilty going. Normally I am a priority and should pass before the other moms and babies as Mathis is less than 3 weeks old. But, you know, I can wait. Really, I don't have any major problems to tell them about. Sure we can weigh Mathis, if they want to, but I already know he's put on lots of weight. Sure, they can observe how he's feeding, maybe give me a suggestion or two, but, you know, it's all working just fine as is. So, we'll go. Perhaps there will be some other moms there to chat with, perhaps some ugly babies to laugh at. Needless to say, Mathis will be the cutest one there!
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