Sorry there was no Molli Report yesterday! That’s going to happen from time to time during the week, since our combined schedules leave us very, very little time.
Yesterday offered no particular milestones for Molli. She ate several half-meals from Trine, she slept, she cried, she grew. Same-old same-old, as far as all that’s concerned.
I cooked up one of Vibeke’s prepared meals and prepped a little salad to accompany it and got the dinner to the hospital at about 6:30. Trine and Molli were waiting for me in one of the private parenting rooms. Molli was sleeping when I arrived, and Trine was curled up on the couch watching our daughter snooze contentedly in the (mobile tent) crib. The lights were low and it was very cozy. We talked quietly on the sofa and watched with delight as Molli twitched in her sleep, gradually waking herself for her 7pm feeding. It was better than television. It was better than Tivo! At last she was fully awake and Trine tried to feed her.
Molli gave only a half-hearted effort for about 30-40 minutes, so eventually the nurse suggested we give her half a meal through the tube. I burped Molli, held her as she imbibed her tubal meal, then Mollicoddled for half an hour or so as Molli digested and Trine pumped out in another room.
When Trine came back we put Molli back in her crib and set out our meal. We were both very hungry, and it was a very delicious meal. Molli fussed and fidgeted as we spoke and ate. We suddenly realized it was our first family meal (unless you count the Fransk Dogs we scarfed last night while juggling Molli around between us, which I certainly wouldn’t).
Every day we feel less and less like a couple of idiots with a weird new pet, and more and more like an actual family. The hospital is clearly trying to encourage that kind of transition, which is probably why they have these family rooms in the first place. But the more evenings we have like that, the harder it gets not to have Molli home with us. It’s one thing to say, “our poor little tiny defenseless creature needs all the help the hospital can offer, and there’s not much we can do for her.” It’s another to say, “our blossoming little daughter is so happy with her mommy and daddy, why can’t she come home?”
So even as things get better and better, they also get harder and harder.
But I hate to end a Molli Report on such a sappy note, so let me assure you that as much as she loves mommy and daddy, Molli Malou apparently loves nothing more than vacating her bladder and bowels all over them. Fortunately for me, she seems to prefer to take her big dump of the day during Trine’s time with her, but during my evening diaper changes of her she’s proved disarmingly adept at identifying the most inconvenient possible moment to squirt like a firehose. No matter how clever I think I am in preparing for it, I somehow always have to trust her for just one second, and that’s invariably when she lets it all out. And I swear that I can see her smiling.
Oh well… small price to pay.
