So I spoke to the GP about M's weight.
Actually, that's a lie. I sent the GP a text that said "I'm a bit worried about M. I can't get an appointment with you for a week. Fancy coming round here, so that I can cook your children lunch and you can inspect my baby?"
And he said "Yes, how about Sunday?".
Sometimes I love living in a very small town.
Anyway, they all came round (his wife is also a GP), and poked at M, who smiled obligingly and looked thoroughly healthy, and we agreed that there was nothing obvious wrong, and that maybe we should come in to the surgery to have M checked out properly for the scarily vague Failure to Thrive.
Which we did, last Thursday. M was weighed and measured and prodded and listened to, and turned upside down and tickled, and had put on 8 ounces in just over a week.
Which still doesn't make him huge, but does put him back on the scale (at the 0.4th centile rather than just under it). More importantly his head circumference is still where it was at birth (75th centile - it's all those brains), and so is his length (25th). The GP and I went through the list of possible causes of Failure to Thrive (I feel it needs capitals) and none of them seemed to apply, so we are left where we were.
With a small baby. Whom I am to feed a bit more often.*
He's still not weed on me though.
*That bit obviously because one is not allowed to leave a health professional's office without having added to the layers of maternal guilt...It's one of the NHS's founding principles.
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