Failure to thrive...

Failure to thrive.

They threw the words around as if every parent who walked through the door was prepared to hear them.

Failure. To. Thrive.

This about my 9-month-old boy who was standing at my feet bouncing and screaming, "dadadadadada." My best attempts at getting him to say "mama" always end there in that happy scream "dadadadada."

Failure to thrive.

This about the baby who was born my biggest, the boy with the blond peach fuzzy head and two teeth. The one who rolled early and crawled at six months.

Failure to thrive.

This about the boy with a lightening fast crawl, a mischievous grin. The boy who has taken to pulling hair because he likes the reaction. The boy who giggles as he races me to the dog dishes if I haven't pulled them from the floor.

The doctor said it. The dietitian said it. Even the lame receptionist scheduling further testing said it.

I've tried all day not to feel like some sort of failure myself, to not take Robbie's dead halt in growth as a personal failure of mothering. I'm not sure I've succeeded.

At least I've quit panicking over the secondary horrid words "cystic fibrosis."

Perhaps I should start somewhere near the beginning.

Robbie born in July, healthy, happy, blah, blah, blah.

Around four months old, he just sort of stopped pooping. I wasn't worried because Jack went through a phase like that and it was just one of those things. The doctor wasn't worried and said it would iron out when he started eating solid foods. Robbie's six-month check up was something of a disaster. I had all three kids in for their annual check ups on a busy day for the doctor. He never looked at Robbie's growth chart, because if he had, he would have noticed the drop from the 55th percentile to the 10th. He wasn't concerned with Robbie's constipation, but I persisted and he relented to a referral to a pediatric gastrinologist.

So, a month later we went to to see Dr. Kooros, who informed me that Robbie had a milk protein allergy that could be fixed by formula or my cutting all dairy from my diet. As I am lazy, I opted for cutting dairy and putting Robbie on a temporary laxative. And when I devote myself to something, I go whole hog. I've been hyper vigilant about not eating ANY dairy. Ask anyone who has been within five feet of me in the last month. I make amazing pouty faces at all get togethers over all the wonderful food I cannot eat. I have been a label-reading, rice milk drinking, milk-hating Nazi, if I can say that.

About three weeks in, I took Robbie off the laxative and the diet seemed to help. And then, it didn't. He was pooping, but just little pellets all the time and it clearly pained him.

Through all this, I kept expecting him to gain weight. It's seriously as if he grew until he was six months old and stopped. He is active, happy, and I'd say, wiry, but he honestly just has not grown. Last week, I took Ellie to the doctor for what I thought was croup (wasn't) and asked if we could weigh the baby.

At his six month appointment, he weighed 15 pounds, 14 ounces. Last week, he weighed 16 pounds, 1 ounce. In three months, he had gained three ounces. I sort of freaked out.

Sort of.

The folks at the PGI doctor's office worked me in for this week after they agreed that it was troublesome that he had fallen OFF the growth charts. So today, my dear friend Teresa came and picked up Jack and Ellie, and I hurried Robbie off to his morning appointment.

I went with a bit of a chip on my shoulder, I admit. I knew I would also be meeting with a dietitian, and my gut instinct has been that his issues aren't dietary. I didn't want a lecture on what to feed my baby. I've moved two children to solids and despite my love of chocolate, I know what foods are healthy and which aren't. She ended up being the best part of the visit, and not just because she gave me a mommy feeding gold star. She did give me some good ideas of foods I hadn 't thought of that Robbie can eat right now that are higher calorie than just veggies, like olives, olive oil and coconut milk yogurt. Those ideas alone were worth the visit.

After catching up, Dr. Kooros said he still thinks Robbie suffers from a milk protein allergy, which of course ticked me off because I have been DAIRY FREE and I mean FREE for two months. He'd like to put him on a formula, but first it would be bad medicine to NOT check a few other things that it COULD be, that he DOUBTS IT IS, but we MUST CHECK ANYWAY.

They are: Cystic fibrosis. A stomach emptying issue which I can't recall the name of. Thyroid. Tests begin next week.

I didn't really know much about cystic fibrosis except it was a life-long lung issue and I mentally panicked about it as I left the hospital. Where I went not wanting him to have dietary issue as I walked through those doors today, suddenly eating non-dairy for the rest of his life seemed like a great trade off. I was in a cloud as I walked from the hospital hoping that Bob and my complete lack of genetic issues thus far would work in Robbie's favor.

Than, I saw a woman carrying a little girl, about three or four years old. They were kissing each other's faces. The little girl had no hair and they were walking toward the cancer center wing of the hospital.

Things can always be worse. Right now, it's failure to thrive. It's a very happy, energetic, burning-calories-like-crazy baby who is just a bit skinny and short. Ok, a lot skinny and short.

But it's not cancer. And I'm optimistic that it won't be cystic fibrosis.

And at the end of the day, maybe it will just be what the dietitian whispered to me through my tears at the end of our visit today:

"The doctors would get mad at me for saying this, but sometimes, they do the tests and it just turns out you have a skinny baby with a high metabolism."

Let's hope.