Not such a great loss this week, but still a loss. It snowed over the weekend, unbelievably, which put paid to my walking trips with Owen, and I think that's what's done it.
Plus the pizza I ate on Saturday. Heh heh. :)
Owen's healing nicely still and I've discovered new ways to make him laugh, so I spend most of my days attempting to do just that. He doesn't laugh like other babies, but instead of that making me sad, it makes me proud of him. He probably doesn't have the same understanding and intelligence as other children (although that's just a theory at this point), so for him to understand that a soft toy Eeyore kissing him on the nose is funny... well... that's pretty mega. I don't know whether he recognises that the toy has a face and characteristics, or if it's just the sensation of the fur tickling his nose, but he gets a kick out of it nonetheless. I do think it's the former though, because I started just approaching his nose and he'd start giggling. He was also facing away from me, so I know it wasn't me he was laughing at. Either way, it's a wonderful thing to hear his little laugh and to know he's interacting with his world.
His PT thinks he may skip crawling altogether, which doesn't surprise me. She reckons he'll figure out walking "soon" (in Owen terms that could mean another six to twelve months), so I'm trying to not feel heartbroken that he's not going to crawl. Little heartbreaks. Every day.
Things were pretty bad over the weekend, being trapped inside by the snow and getting frustrated that we'd eaten all the healthy food we had in the house and there was nothing left but pre-diet crap. Mike and I had several rows and finally started talking about Big Issues on Sunday. I won't air my dirty laundry here, but we got to a place I never thought we'd see. It made me realise that I'm not over my depression, and how it's manifesting itself is affecting Mike far more than I thought. He asked me what I needed to be happy, and after a long, long think, I decided that I need him to be the strong one for a change. I can take care of Owen if he takes care of me. In addition, I made an appointment to see a doctor for the first time since the birth to try and get to the bottom of several complaints, including this unshakable black cloud. It irritated me the way the receptionist wanted to know why I needed to see the doctor (to enter into their "system"), so I told her it was because I'm concerned about my iron levels. I am, but that's not the reason I'm going in, and quite frankly the truth is none of her goddam business.
He'll probably tell me I'm overweight. Sigh.