Hitting the Bottle (Finally)

When Clay was about six weeks old, we decided it was time to try him on the bottle -- to make sure he would take it. After a little bit of fighting, he was willing to drink from the bottle. So we thought everything was copacetic and we didn't give him a bottle for weeks. Big mistake. Huge mistake.

When we tried to go out for the first time, we left my poor, unsuspecting parents alone with him. When it came time to feed, all they had was a very angry baby and a full bottle. Even help from Mary, our next-door neighbor and mother of two young children, did little to convince him to go back on the bottle. By the time we got home that evening, he was starving -- and I'm not sure who was more exhausted: Clay or poor Oma and Opa.

After a few more abortive attempts, we just gave up on the bottle, promising to do better next time. And that's how things were left for several months.Until a few weeks ago.

Either in blissful ignorance or impressive optimism, Grandma and Grandpa Hagen gave Clay a bottle of formula while he and Lisa were visiting in Florida. And he drank it. And then he drank again, and again, and a corner was turned.

This evening during small group, Clay was getting fussy so Lisa put together a 6oz bottle and he guzzled it. How nice it is to be able to feed him with a bottle instead of Lisa needing to either decamp to another room to feed -- or cover herself up in a tent while he kicks and fiddles under the drapery. And a baby with 6oz of warm formula in his stomach is a quiet and content baby -- which is a good thing to be during the middle of a bible study.

The bottle is definitely more than half-full at this point.