This afternoon, as I was sitting in a Malian restaurant eating Malian food, reading my fluffy backpack book about Mali (as opposed to my current bedside book, historical fiction about Mali), while sitting next to my daughter Mali, Seymour came back to the table and said "I've been thinking about our next kid-free trip. Maybe we should go to Mali!" Snort. Sure, why not. In two or three years, anything will be possible.
We then introduced our daughter to the restaurant's proprietor. He thought her name was great, whereas one of the eavesdropping waiters--a fellow who'd yet to crack a smile over the last seven years, at least in my presence--immediately started busting up. The proprietor ignored him, though, and told us that in Mali the name is quite popular, though it's a different word in his language.
Mali had another good night last night. Up and actively feeding for two hours straight until around midnight, but then she slept until 5:30, had a light snack, and slept again until 10:30.
My lovely family let me sleep in with her, as I had an overextended day yesterday. Ran 50 or so errands with my mom in the morning, spent the mid-day frantically tidying the house so it could be properly cleaned, then Seymour and I spent the evening and quite a load of cash at the annual Iron Gate auction/fundraiser (it qualifies as a night classes, and we get double credit for Seymour attending too, so I get to miss one more night class without going in the red).
Mali came with us to the auction, and spent the entire night sleeping on my shoulder. Despite being totally conked out, she was the belle of the ball, with almost every person on site coming over too coo at her some time during the evening. As well they should.
I thought I was doing okay despite the hecticness of the day, even though earlier in the afternoon (fainthearted readers, clear out now) I had passed a golf ball-sized blood clot followed by a huge gush of blood that soaked right past my gear and through my drawers and pants. It didn't impress or worry my doctor, though, so we carried on with our evening plans. But then at the end of the auction I had another one of those pre-migraine auras (mostly annoying because I was sitting down to nurse, and it distorted my vision too badly for me to be able to read), and started feeling woozy and nauseous. We went home and I went to bed. After almost 12 hours of sleep I feel much, much better.
This morning we took Mali on her first visit to Dr. S, the combo traditional pediatrician/homeopath. It was, from my perspective at least, a lovely lovely visit (Seymour is skeptical about her homeopath side, even though we didn't venture into that territory today).
Dr. S declared Mali completely healthy, strong, and beautiful. Our girl has gained almost all of her weight back. She is not concerned about her sleeping so much--she says that as long as she nurses well and is alert when she does wake up, then we should just enjoy having such an easy baby for now.
She is also not concerned about her slight jaundice--she says that it's probably due to our Rh incompatibility (I'm negative, Mali is positive) and that if we keep nursing along and expose her to light when we can, she'll be fine. She also said that nursing babies can take longer to overcome any jaundice--I'm guessing because they absorb more and spew out less than bottle-fed babies--though Miss Mali had quite the outfit-killing episode in the middle of our visit (which the doctor declared "wonderful," in terms of demonstrating our girl's processing abilities).
She also told us not to worry about her umbilical cord stump falling off so early (4 days), and that it will be fine as long as it doesn't start to smell.
Finally, she told us that her policy about vaccines was to give parents as much information as possible to make the determination on their own, but that she herself has, over the course of 20 years of considering the issue, come to the conculsion that an intact immune system is the best defense. However, she will respect whatever decisions we make, and said that there's no time pressure--the only time pressue is whatever pediatricians put on parents. Now it's time for Seymour to do his homework.
Off now, as I've not seen my other kids since we left for the auction last night, and Mali is waking up. No time for spell-check.
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