On breathing easy

This post should have been titled "Eleri Ruth, 4 months old," followed by her vital stats and a little something about her milestones over the past month (rolling over, grasping with both hands, knocking two items together, pushing up on her arms, laughing, laughing, laughing). But because Eleri's vital stats were out of wack, we find ourselves becoming intimate with our new friend Mister Nebulizer.

(It only occurs to me now that this is not intended to be read as Mr. Nebulizer, but instead a nebulizer which mists. It's much funnier the other way.)

At this age, babies still tend to gain about a half an ounce a day; over the past month, Eleri has in fact lost a tiny bit of weight, and while she is certainly a healthy-sized kid, it is concerning that she is not continuing on the natural upward trajectory. The Dr. and I spent quite a while speculating that perhaps the measurements were off last time, that she had just eaten then while today she was due for her lunch, that different nurses have different measuring styles (a theory that was aided by the fact that Eleri's head also supposedly lost 2 centimeters circumference.) I was even marveling at the fact that the inability to put on weight was simply a trait that Eleri may have inherited from her father's side of the family (finally, a clear genetic link to the Petersons!)

But then the Doctor noticed that Eleri's chest and belly were doing a very dramatic dance as she breathed, and that, in fact, she seemed to be panting (though she continued to smile and coo and act altogether unperturbed by this nuisance.) I had noticed a similar scenario when I got her dressed in the morning, but somehow attributed it to her newfound love of arching her back and looking up over her head while lying down, and did not connect it to the cold she's had forever. One of the practice's most senior Doctors was consulted, and after they had a private chat behind closed doors, our Doctor returned with Mr. Nebulizer. (seen here at our home, later.)
The stomach-and-chest-dance is apparently evidence that Eleri is using muscles to breathe that, strictly speaking, exist for other purposes; they believe that, in reaction to her severe congestion, she has been working so hard to breathe that she's burning many extra calories, leading to the slight weight loss. To correct the problem, Eleri needs to breathe easier.

A short aside. This morning, when I came in to work my boss and several colleagues were sitting in the entryway, welcoming our newest employee on her first day. Anne asked if I had a good weekend; after I confessed that I had throw out my back, and after the general groans subsided, Anne again gave me her favorite bit of advice: to breathe. This is a popular line in cheesy romantic movies and ballads (Just breathe), but in fact it is also sage advice; Anne often catches me holding my breath when I had no idea I was doing so. The masseuse who helped release the tension in my back yesterday also touched on this, suggesting that I find time to return to yoga, where you use your breath to invade the war zones in both your body and your mind.

So Eleri and I sat together in the pediatrician's office breathing in vaporized sterile water. Eleri actually liked this, and talked all the while. I found that time got a little warped between the sound of the machine and the anesthetizing effects of the vapor. Eventually we were sent out into the world with our very own Mister Nebulizer, and a prescription for little tubes of saline. At home, Eleri got nebulized twice more, once to happy effect


and once straight to sleepytime.


Clio wanted to try it out but was denied. (I'll admit I tested it- the vapor is cold and smells funny- and it's unclear why it seems to have such a druglike effect; it's just water, after all). Tomorrow morning she gets another dose, then we return to the Doctor and hope to find her on the mend.

As for me? I'm afraid it's more complicated.

For now I am still breathing.

Just barely.