Poor Animalia

Thursday. Doctor's appointment to follow up on Animalia's "problem."

"Constipation," her mother whispered to not embarrass the delicate sensitivities of the Animalia.

Poor baby. It gets better, then worse and back and forth like that in a way that her doctor thinks is slightly abnormal. But not the most abnormal as she continues to gain weight and grow. She's 21 lbs and 30 1/2 inches now. Go baby!

Anyhow, we'd had a rough patch the night before with the "issue" and well, there we were, at the doctor for the 3rd time in a month. Her doctor ordered tests. Fortunately she combined some that are typical at her next regular well baby visit so she wouldn't have to go through the blood draw thing more than once. So we left the doctor and hit the lab where they proceeded to torture the Animalia. They tried to draw blood from both arms and got nothing. The Animalia left with bandages covering the giant bruises forming on her tiny arms. Sadness. We would have to try again in a few days.

I was dreading the second attempt but it went swimmingly. The Animalia only cried when she tried to struggle and she couldn't move from being held down. It was quick and hopefully relatively painless. Then me and her Tío Tío took her to San Xavier for her to ooh and ahh over the santos and touch San Francisco's head. I said a tiny prayer for her health and then we climbed the hill and stared at the nearly empty grotto and the green fields momentarily before our drive home.