I can't believe my baby has now been outta my belly as long as he's been in it. Tyson and I both feel like he's been around forever to where we'll be reminiscing about something that happened last year and wonder where Logan was when we did that activity.
Oh yeah. Not born yet.
While we were at the doctor's today for his 9 month check I knew in advance that he didn't need to get any vaccinations. What a relief! It's so hard to hold your baby as he cries in pain while getting poked time and time again. It makes me wish I could get the vaccines for him and you know how I feel about needles.
So you can imagine my dismay when the doctor told me they needed to take some blood from Logan to check his iron. Nooo!
When the nurse came in to administer the torture I snuggled my sweet baby close enjoying his last few minutes of happiness before it dissolved into tears of pain. She got his toe all ready and opened up the needle while I squeezed him tighter, closed my eyes and waited.
I peeked through my eyelashes sure she was going to poke him any second and saw Logan's blood already oozing out of his toe while he lazily batted her hand with his other foot.
Seriously? She could have been a cheerio stuck to his foot for all he cared. He put up way more of a fight while I was cutting his toenails this morning, and thank goodness I did, right, since she was all up in there today.
In other statistical news he weighs 18lbs 15 oz which officially puts him in the 25%.
For some reason this makes me feel guilty.
I was all proud when he was 2 weeks old and had gained a ton of weight and was in the 80%. I felt like my milk had superpowers and that Logan and I were an unstoppable weight altering machine. He was gaining, I was losing, it was a beautiful thing. I knew I should have exclusively breast fed him until he was 3.
Just kidding. It is a little sad though that he doesn't need me as much as he used to.