But Z had two major geyser episodes today, the second one completely soaking my clothes. The vomit was at first white and then yellow. He's been fussy since yesterday.
We know we're getting some food in him, because he is still making a whole lot of poop. (I just emptied the Diaper Genie--um...impressive is what I'd call that there bag o' diapers.) But it's really worrying me to see all this crazy vomit.
I called the doctors' exchange three times, and I finally got a call back from the on call doctor, Dr. Bloom. It looks like overfeeding could be the cause. Turns out I may have the opposite problem of some women: super boobs that let out too much milk and totally overwhelm poor Little Z. So I'm going to either see a lactation consultant or go to this open house at Saint Joseph's Wednesday. I did not see a lactation consultant in the hospital, because everything was going along just swimmingly. But apparently I have overachieving breasts, and that could be its own problem.
The fact that we did get a meal into Z today is a good sign, so the doctor thinks the overfeeding is probably what's going on and not pyloric stenosis, which was what I was afraid of. Google diagnosing is not the best idea, really. The internet sort of sucks with all its handy information. It can just freak you out.
Jeff got Z down for a nap, and I am so glad Jeff is home today. Thursday and Friday were very tough on me, and I was just counting the minutes until Jeff came home. I hate seeing Z so fussy and unhappy, and I just can't stand watching him eject a forceful stream of vomit all over the place. So the last two days have been a bit emotionally draining. And I guess they've been literally physically draining for Z.
We have to slow down his feedings, keep him upright for about 30 minutes after each one (and this means holding our adorable little boy--what torture), and just keep an eye on him, in case the vomiting starts happening after every meal, which could mean it's something more serious--like this awful pyloric stenosis thing. Fortunately, all things more serious seem correctible. Still, I'm hoping super boobs are the culprit, as I don't even want to think something serious could ever be wrong with Little Z.
So I'm overfeeding him. I swear--Jewish mother. It doesn't matter that I've sworn off my own heritage. I'm still destined to force food on my kids. It's in my blood.