Mount Saint Little Angel

The little angel is what my pediatrician's nurse calls "a spitter." She spits up constantly, sometimes going through six bibs a day. She spits up when you jostle her, when you put her in or pull her out of her new, baby-sofa convertible car seat, when you change her diaper, when you burp her, when you don't burp her and sometimes for absolutely no reason at all. I wasn't concerned with this until recently, when many, many people started commenting that she is awfully old to be spitting up so much. Now, the strangers were probably confused by her size - she is almost 18 pounds at five months - so she looks older than she really is - but people who know her well are also surprised by this. So I started to worry a little.

Of course, if you are worried, the last thing you want to do is call the pediatrician. Not only does the act of calling add credence to your fears in the first place, waiting for the dang nurse to call you back six hours later is pretty much just torture. Especially when they say something like "well, maybe you are feeding her too much." This is how my conversation with the nurse went yesterday:

Me: "I'm a little concerned that my five-month-old is spitting up too much."
Nurse Ratched: "Well, how much does she spit up?"
Me: "Oh, I don't know. Sometimes not much, sometimes five or six times a day."
NR: "You say she's spitting up more than she used to?"
Me: "No, not more, just not less. I thought it would drop off as she got older."
NR: "You say it's getting worse?"
Me: "No, not worse. Just not better. She's awfully big, so I don't know if I'm feeding her too much?"
NR: "How much does she weigh?"
Me: "Oh, she was 17 pounds, 10 ounces at her four month check-up."
NR: "She's HUGE! Maybe you are overfeeding her. You could be making her tummy hurt by forcing too much food, then she spits up." (Subtext: This is all your fault, you naive ho.)
Me: (panicked) "Oh my goodness! How do you know if you're feeding a baby too much?"
NR: "You don't. Some just keep eating forever, like horses. They'll eat until their stomachs explode. Or you could just have a spitter. You say it's getting worse?"
Me: whimper
NR: "You'd better bring her in for a weight check."
Me: "I'm worried about starting solids."
NR: "Well, she certainly doesn't sound like she needs more food. Bring her in."

So, now I'm concerned I've been stuffing my baby like a Thanksgiving turkey, have set her up for diabetes and obesity and will never be able to give her real food. She'll be on a liquid diet for the rest of her life, toting around a little mini-blender in her Superwoman lunch pail. She'll never know the joy of a cheeseburger, all because I, foolish new mother, FED HER UNTIL SHE PUKED.

I hate not knowing what I'm doing....