So I decided to throw caution to the wind and test whether Lucy does in fact have a milk allergy.
I went to Trader Joes and bought cheese, milk, yogurt (drinkable and greek) and....
Gelato. Mmmmm. Gelato!
Then the gelato wasn't very good, so I sent Dyami out for Chunky Monkey. Mmmmmm. I had about half of a pint last night. I hadn't had ice cream since before Lucy was born, seven months ago.
Dairy Fest started yesterday at noon, and today at noon I had a smaller bowl of Chunky Monkey and concluded the festivities. Then I waited for the other shoe to drop.
And, shockingly, everything seemed fine. Lucy's poop seemed normal, if slightly more green, but nothing really awful-looking like we've seen before. Nothing terribly diarrhea-like.
I was dreaming about Cold Stone. If I could have dairy, there are actually places I could eat out! Maybe only dessert places, but still! I could have treats!
Then I tried to put her to bed tonight
Normal, for the first 20 minute nurse-to-sleep. Then the second one took an hour. And she kept waking up. Arching her back. Crying. She'd re-settle, and just when I thought she was out, she'd wake back up.
Then I noticed that her nose was running for the first time in months. Her breathing sounded like Darth Vader's. And I remembered how she kept coughing before bedtime--then, I had wondered if she'd gotten something past my vigilant choking-hazard watch.
Wait a second, I thought, nursing her to sleep. That was phlegm she was coughing up. Argh!
She's asleep now, in her bed.
Pray for us. I have a bad feeling tonight may not be super restful. I'm trying not to be too anxious. In my head I know I'll survive, but I just hate not getting decent sleep. (Decent meaning several hours in a row).
Oh, Chunky Monkey. How I loved thee.
It was good while it lasted.