![\"Lucy](\"http:\/\/boydsnest.org\/news\/wp-content\/uploads\/2006\/06\/IMG_1463.jpg\")
<\/p>\nOne of the things I periodically prayed for during my pregnancy was for a baby who — besides being healthy and possessing four limbs in the right places — wouldn’t spit up much. For the first few weeks, I thought we successed in birthing a non-barfer. But in the past couple of days, Lucy’s gastric valves seem to be going in reverse more often than is strictly necessary. <\/p>\n
I would consider myself an only *mildly* squeamish person. I don’t like to dump out things that go moldy in the fridge, but I can do it. And I can handle Lucy’s poop pretty well, even when it gets on me. But for some reason I have a harder time with spit up. Let’s be honest, people: it is really *baby puke,* and it grosses me out. Lately when I pick Lucy up for a burp, I say cheerily, “Okay, Lucy, time to barf!” And out it comes. I think it makes me feel better to name it for what it is. And I continue to be thankful to not have a projectile-spit-up baby on my hands.<\/p>\n
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I was still in denial about the new reality on Saturday, when the spit-up pace really started picking up. That day I changed my shirt four times (although, to be fair, one of those times was because she peed on me). Since then, I’ve been more diligent about having a burp cloth on my shoulder. But even now my technique needs to improve. Lucy is such a delightfully active child that she often will entirely miss the burp cloth and spew her gift down my arm. Or, she will spit up onto the cloth and then joyfully rub her hands and face in it. She certainly doesn’t seem as ruded out as I am.<\/p>\n
The thing I like least about spit-up is the smell. It isn’t awful, but I’ve found myself racing to change Lucy’s onesie after nursing her and still smelling baby barf for twenty minutes. I’m beginning to consider sprinkling her with baking soda, or at least wearing some perfume (on myself) to mask the odor.<\/p>\n
But hey — stinky or not stinky, barf or no barf, she certainly is a cute little muffin. We’ll keep her, even if it means eight baths a day!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
One of the things I periodically prayed for during my pregnancy was for a baby who — besides being healthy and possessing four limbs in the right places — wouldn’t spit up much. For the first few weeks, I thought we successed in birthing a non-barfer. But in the past couple of days, Lucy’s gastric … <\/p>\n