2-Month Check Up

My little baby got her shots today. I know there are a bunch of other things I should mention about our visit to the hospital, but all I could think of are the looks she had and the scream she let out when three needles were stuck into her poor little thighs at once. Wil and I were tucking her in the other night and got to talking about our experience/misconception for the past two months. I mentioned that I didn't realize I would be so powerless against her cry. I just can't help myself. Her pitiful cry really physically changes me. My heartbeat would raise, my breasts would leak, my hands would start to get clammy. I had never been around a newborn before Chase, and I don't count hanging around my little cousins since I never really had to be responsible for their lives. But this baby is mine and she probably expects me to not let random strangers stick sharp objects into her. Wil, who has been around babies all his life, saw that I was getting really nervous and pacing the room when I spotted the needles, suggested that I waited outside the room. I couldn't, so we cried together. She's fine and sleeping peacefully right next to me as I type. I really wouldn't know what to do if Wil weren't there though. Doctors here don't seem to worry about growth percentile very much. She's not gaining weight as quickly as she had done the first few weeks of her life, but we were assured that all is well within the growth chart and she would probably do a little better once she gets over the congestion that's been bugging her for the past few weeks. She's weighing in at 10 lbs 2 oz and is 21 1/4" in length. Basically, almost 3 lbs. and 3/4" gain since she left the hospital. The one thing that is not little is her noggin. All other measurements are in between approximately 18th-50th percentile, but the body part that she clearly inherited from her father is in, ahem, 85th percentile. It's the size of the brain, baby. Or that's what I'm going to have to tell her when she comes home crying because some mean boy makes fun of her at school. Just thinking about that makes my blood boil. Lordy, I am such a hopeless mother.