Yesterday was the birthday party for my friend's daughter Magi. She'll be 1 on Halloween, but her brother in law is getting married next weekend, so the party was yesterday. Hannah had a blast in the bounce house, and the weather was gorgeous for the end of October. Magi went to town on her cake in typical 1 year old style and was gorgeous doing it.
It did make me sad to think two things.... Norah is nearly 8 months old, that means in a little more than 4 short months we'll be doing the same thing. However it will be different because I somewhat doubt that Norah will be eating cake. She's still miserable about eating, and at this point she won't even take a bottle happily. I fight with her every time its feeding time. She won't take a spoon, she isn't coordinated enough to feed herself, and the bottle makes me want to throw myself screaming off a bridge for all it takes her to eat. Her GI said the meds she is on are enough, but I really don't understand. She has an appointment coming with the oral/lingual therapist, but I'm not sure I can make it another 2.5 weeks. I'm sad that eating has to be so awful for her, and in turn awful for me. I cried with her as I fed her this morning. I don't even know what to do anymore. I want to cry at the fact that I have to feed her and it clearly isn't something she wants, but I have to MAKE her eat because otherwise she'll starve. I feel like a failure and a bad mother because clearly she associates eating with pain, but I make her anyways. I knew that having babies/kids wasn't easy. I knew there would be up's and down's. I didn't know that I'd want to cry every time they do, and that it would be a daily occurance. I didn't know that making a baby do what's best for them could make me hate myself.