We met with the doctor today and David's weight is low, too low.

Welcome to the raging voices in my mind:

So we change some stuff, no big deal; oh my god my baby is slip sliding away; there must be some mistake, he looks perfectly normal; yippee! change something means I'm not allowed to nurse at night anymore which means I'm going to have to sleep train which means I get to sleep at night; no, no I don't want to sleep train, I don't want to make my child miserable, I don't want him to scream; less nursing means I have to eat less, I don't like that at all; I can throw a quarter teaspoon of olive oil in applesauce but rice cereal, how do I make rice cereal? I don't know how to feed him; I thought breast milk was the end all be all, I thought I was giving him the perfect food and now it's not calorically dense enough? that's not fair telling me I was doing it right and then telling me I'm doing it wrong; I wonder if he's allergic to something? maybe I should call Deirdre or Wendy, this happened to them; we should have worked harder at this when the doctor said his weight was veering low, it's all my fault; I wonder what type of ride my hormones are going to take me for as we ween, I wonder if I'll get totally depressed; I love him so much.