It all started when Pearl decided to have reflux- I know! who does that?! She was pretty good as far as reflux babies go from my experience. Sure she cried quite a bit but other than worrying that she was in pain it didn't bother me much. She did, however, spit up a lot. Cute baby fountain a lot. Niagara Falls a lot. I didn't keep spit up cloths by our bed, I kept full on bath towels- true story. Because of all this puking, all Pearl ever wanted to do was eat. I'm pretty certain that after she woke up in the morning I fed her every hour until about 2 in the afternoon and then every hour and a half until bed. That's me, just a milk makin' machine. Of course after she'd spit up literally every ounce of what I'd just fed her I'd have to chastise her, "Pearl, why should I even bother working so hard to make this stuff for you if you're going to be ungrateful!" Surprisingly, that didn't help much.
Finally, after much pleading from Papa Pepper (his ear drums aren't encased in steel like mine are) I took Pearl to her pediatrician's office. How long had this been going on? he wanted to know. Because I am such an awesome Mama, I knew the exact answer- "Um, like a few weeks I guess?" He looked at her chart for a few minutes and said, "well, she had the same symptoms at both her 1 and 2 month check ups and in 2 weeks she'll be 4 months, so let's go with a few months." Great, now Dr. B thinks I'm a big fat liar and neglectful too but in my defense, you'd have a hard time remembering if your brains were being sucked out your chest 14 times a day too. Regardless of how bad of a mother he thought I was, Dr. B gave us a script for reflux medicine. After some tricky finagling with the insurance company to get it approved, we filled it a week later. I was expecting it to take a few weeks to kick in- we noticed a difference in days! No more mammoth amounts of spit up. No more making a mental note to was having to wash our sheets every other day. No more weird looks when I pulled out a large hand towel in the mother's lounge at church to clean up the pools of creamy on our sweaters and skirts. It was FABULOUS.
Or so I thought....
Because Pearl had been eating ridiculous quantities for who knows how long, this milk making machine did not know how to cope with the new low consumption rate- we're talking MAYBE 1/3 of her normal necessary supply. Suddenly my nursing bra no longer fit and I had to walk around like a leaky Dolly Parton, terrified that I'd sneeze in the grocery store and have to put one of the girls back in its too small cage. Darn modern medicine... but that wasn't the worst of it. Nooo. Mondo melons were nothing compared to what those pills did to my scale. When the week where I finally understood what it was like to have men not talk to your face ended, the numbers on my scale were magically up. "But I've lost all that milk weight! What is wrong with you?!" I asked in desperation but it did not answer. That night I told Papa Pepper of my concerns and after the obligatory argument about whether or not I looked fat, he said, "well maybe your weight has to do with what you're doing right now."
"What? Calling myself fat?"... He gave me a weird look, "when did you buy that giant bag of Skittles?"... I had to swallow the mouthful of sugar, "nothing."
"Nothing doesn't work here. I know you have Skittles, you've been "sneaking" them from under the covers all night." -- Yes, we hang out in bed all evening don't judge-- I didn't think he'd notice so I told the truth, "yesterday evening." "And how many are left?" I pulled out the bag and peeked inside, "four... but I've been eating this much for a while now and I've never gained weight before!" "Maybe you're just not burning as many calories because Pearl's not eating as much anymore."
Of course he was right, Papa Pepper is always right.
But it's so not fair! I loved eating everything in sight and having my weight stay the same. One day I actually ate not one but 2 Wendy's Bacon Deluxe MEALS and the next day I was down 2 pounds! And since I've been eating this way for months I'm finding it hard to stop. Stupid habits... no! Stupid modern medicine! How dare you make my Pearl feel better? You've got some nerve drug companies.... some nerve....
