Not even four months old yet and Remy is showing us more and more of the little boy he is going to be. Because lately he is constantly struggling to stand up on his own two feet, we decided to put together the Jumparoo for him. He may be a tad too short for it, but in just three or four days he seems to have mastered the thing. His little hands move deftly over the toys, pushing buttons, spinning wheels - his big eyes taking it all in while he maneuvers around with one foot on the ground. He amazes me.
Another sign of his relentless march forward - yesterday I spotted the little white edge of his very first tooth! I've been on the look out for it because he's been drooling buckets and chewing on anything that comes near his mouth for weeks now, and then last week we had two or three nights of heart breaking weeping when nothing would soothe him. But it has all paid off, because now the tooth is here! It is his bottom, front, right tooth. I'll try to get a picture soon, if I can get him to cooperate.
In other news, went in to the ER on Thursday, a week to the day after my surgery, with pain that, for the life of me, I would describe as a gallstone attack (except of course that I don't have a gallbladder anymore.) I called the insurance company's nurse hotline and the nurse instructed me to go to the nearest ER. Four hours in the ER, doing test after test, and the doctor comes and tells me ("good news!") they don't know what it was, maybe gas, either some residual CO2 or my own personal concoction. Wonderful. A grown woman with a baby to look after brought down by freakin' gas. She said that it's possible the fibromyalgia exacerbated the situation, but that hardly makes me feel better. I know I should just be grateful that it wasn't a PE or a stone, but when every day you are striving to be a mother worthy of this exceptional little human being in your care, finding out that you are the kind of person who goes to the ER with gas is not good news.
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