And it starts....

Molly's already being a troublesome teenage type. Since her birth, she has had a little trouble coordinating her suck-swallow-breathe pattern when she eats. In the last 48 hours, her trouble increased and she had noticeably increased distress with every feed. I tried everything: changing positions, bottle with a slow-flow nipple, more frequent feedings, burping more often, but nothing helped. Yesterday afternoon she had a really scary episode that got me reviewing infant CPR in my head so I called my pediatrician and after lots of phone tag, we came to the hospital. She wasn't going to be admitted until I opened my big mouth and said she had one blue spell about a week ago that she recovered from without any problems. That did it and we were sent to our temporary residence of room 6635. (Side note: this is the unit I work on. My friends are basically serving me. Weird.) Since we got here, Molly has cured herself. She had one minor episode of choking/gagging/coughing during her feed yesterday evening but since has been a perfect baby. She's doing better than she was when she was born. Apparently, she didn't believe my threat of going to the hospital and I had to prove I was serious. I AM the boss! Now, I'm faced with conflicting emotions: 1) I'm happy she's doing better. But 2) I feel like an idiot. I tell everyone who enters my room (friends/colleagues) that I swear I didn't make this up and this must be a different baby than I came here with. And to make matters worse, the doc wants us to stay another night just to be sure she's okay. Another night of sitting in a hospital room with Abby at a friend's house, watching Molly be okay. Can't wait.