(Side note: how many random visitors will I get for including the word "boobs' in the title of this post?)
I told my mom yesterday that I never imagined I would talk about - not to mention display - my nipples to so many people. I'm practically at the point of whipping them out on the street and asking people, "do you think this is normal? Does this look like a yeast infection? What would you do in my situation?" However, I'm pretty sure this would get me arrested, and "detained for public nudity" is not something I really want in my permanent file, especially given the whole "minister" thing.
So, yesterday we went to the tongue-snipping doctor. She was very kind, and agreed that yes, baby girl did indeed have a tongue-tie problem. (RELIEF.) She and her assistant checked my nipples and both felt that I probably do not have a yeast infection (BIGGER RELIEF), but that I'm suffering from "mechanical damage." Weird term, yes? But reflects my suspicion, that it's simply her inability to latch correctly which is the major problem. I'd been thinking that over the past week, mostly because the nipple cream, anti-fungal stuff and ibu.profen fix I was given to address the potential yeast infection was doing absolutely no good.
So, they weighed her first, and we had good news: since the formula supplementation started, the kid had gained nearly a pound in five days. Nine pounds, up from 7 pounds 14 ounces a week ago. Yay! Visions of Terrible Awful Big Bad Things Wrong began to fade from my mind. To be replaced with a quick vision of Morbidly Obese Baby, but I think we can let that one go. And then we talked about the tongue for a bit, and the doctor told me I could watch or leave the room, or do whatever I liked, and I was definitely going to watch until she pulled out the little scissors and I decided nope...couldn't do it. Baby girl hated it, naturally, but it was over quickly. I felt horrible for a moment, knowing it was painful (although not much, most likely) but I kept telling myself that it was much better to do this now than to discover she'd need this done at age 3, or 5, or 10, or whatever.
A few moments of intense screaming later, she latched right on, and we're already doing better. Much less pain. We'll stick with formula supplementation until we see the doctor next week, at which point we'll probably start to wean her off.
Meanwhile, she's amusing herself staring at the (apparently) fascinating yellow quilt on the couch. Between that and light fixtures, she hardly ever needs anything else to look at. What could be more interesting?