So, things kind of reached a head this weekend when it came to dealing with Younger Bro. He's been a fairly miserable baby: he hasn't fed comfortably, he's been very, very gassy, he hasn't liked being held by most people, nothing soothed, him, and he's absolutely hated me since he was born. Very, very unhappy little man, that's for sure. He's just not been able to settled down and to get comfortable.
From The Wife's standpoint, it's been absolute torture. He's been chewing his way through her breasts, having opened wounds 7 weeks ago that have yet to heal or to improve. We thought the thrush thing was a good diagnosis, but the help that it provided was small and short-lived. Every time he fed, he was reopening the wounds, making it immensely painful for her. Huge credit for her persistence, when 99% of mothers would have given up. Not The Wife - not only is she a tough, stubborn broad, but she's bound and determined to feed her children ONLY the right stuff.
This weekend, we all had a minor meltdown on Sunday because of the incessant screaming and carrying on by the baby. Even The Boy was having issues with it, which is completely unlike him.
Long story short, The Wife called a lactation consultant this morning and went in for an appointment this afternoon. Turns out that he has "Tongue Tie"! For those too lazy to click the link, it's a not-uncommon condition that has the tongue anchored to the floor of the mouth by extra skin and muscle. The most common treatment is a minor outpatient surgery, wherein they snip the extra stuff. It shows generally good results, although it is possible (and somewhat likely) that Younger Bro might need further surgery and other corrective therapies when he is older and dealing with complex language issues.
This is, on one hand, a huge relief. Friday is the day for the snipping, and things should improve immediately. It's challenging, because Friday is the day that Grandma and J head back to Pittsburgh, but we'll muddle through somehow.
On the other hand, WHAT THE AITCH-EEE-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS DO WE HAVE TO DO TO HAVE ONE GOSH-DARNED NORMAL FAMILY EVENT HAPPEN? We can't have a one-year-old party without a cancer diagnosis, Thanksgiving and Christmas without hospitalizations, a bris without a holy war erupting, and a 2-year-old party without infant meltdown.
Sigh. "Today, I checked my 2-year-old into the hospital for chemo and found out that my 8-week old needs oral surgery to eat and to speak normally. FML."
Seriously. My life sucks. What's next?