Twenty-One Weeks

Surrey barely flinched for this photo shoot. What you see is what you get.

Poor girl still had not gotten over her horrendous cough after a week so I put a call in to the pediatrician last Thursday to see if she should be seen. Because of her age they thought it would be wise to see her, so off we went less than two hours later. Her doctor said she's over the virus (although she still has a mildly runny nose so I don't get it) but she has inflammation going on in the lungs. Long story short (mostly because I can't remember the details) they have her doing breathing treatments via a nebulizer. It's awful. Most of the time Surrey screams, unless she allows herself to be soothed to my wonderful renditions of "Wheels on the Bus" and "Rock-a-bye Baby/Surrey." And who wouldn't? It's so loud, there's steam all up in her face, and it's not a quick process. Fortunately, tomorrow we scale back from every four hours to just three times a day, then two the next, and just one the next. It hasn't done wonders quite yet, but hopefully by the time she's finished she'll be good as new.

In other news, Daylight Savings seems to have really thrown her for a loop. We thought we'd actually not lose an hour of sleep, thinking Sunday morning she wouldn't know the difference and wake up at 7:30/8:00 instead of 6:30/7:00. Wrongo. 7:15 (which was like 6:15). Gosh this time thing is confusing. And today, she slept til 8:00 and so her normal bedtime of 6:30 was pushed back til 7:30. WHO KNOWS.

We're still up for what feels like the majority of the night doing laps to and from her room to put in the pacifier or ease the burden of the coughing. We are anxiously awaiting the day we can put her back in her crib (right now she has to be propped up) and begin the transition to sleeping unswaddled, which will hopefully allow her to find her fingers when she drops her pacifier. Wishful thinking.