A Mother's View: Amy

Feeding Challenges:

Hannah always had a difficult time with feeding. I had been unable to breast feed my son and I made up my mind that this time I was going to make it work. Hannah and I tried in the hospital with minimal success. The only time I could get her to latch was if the lactation consultant did all the work for me. I was a fumbling mess, and Hannah was so weak that she grew tired quickly. Once we got home it got even worse. We would both end up sobbing by then end of each attempted feed, and I finally resorted to just pumping and giving her my milk in a bottle. She preferred this new arrangement, as it meant she didn’t have to work as hard. We went out and rented the hospital grade pump, as well as a fancy portable one. I went to the lactation meetings and even had a few private sessions to figure out what I was doing wrong, but she just wouldn’t latch on and stay there for anything. She got tired, or gagged on my milk once it did start coming. After about 8 weeks, my milk supply started decreasing. I took supplements and ate oatmeal for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but nothing worked. By the 12^th week I was averaging about 4 oz a day, which was barely enough for one good feed. We were already supplementing with formula by this time, and I was growing disappointed at my lack of output. I made the decision to just give up on my dream of breast feeding, and focus on other ways to bond.

If only switching to the bottle could have fixed all her feeding challenges. At about 2 months, Hannah started to get really picky on who could feed her. If anyone other than mommy tried to feed her, she would scream and gag and refuse the bottle. We tried to hire a baby sitter to help out for a few hours and eventually take over when I went back to school, but everyone we interviewed had a hard time getting her to eat. One day I had left for 8 hours and she didn’t eat anything all day. I worried every time I had to leave her because I didn’t know if she would be able to eat without me there to feed her. Her weight gain slowed until she was only maintaining. We had to count every little ounce of formula that went into her to make sure that she was getting enough. Some days she would only get 15-18 oz of formula all day. This became her normal intake, and I was at the pediatrician’s every week trying to figure out what I could do. We started to have to “force feed” her the bottles, despite her crying and turning her head away from the bottle, we had to keep making her take it until she got something in her tiny little belly.

One night, I was trying to get her to take her last bottle before bed. She was crying hysterically and refusing to drink it. Singing and rocking wasn’t working, and even after I stopped trying to feed her she was still inconsolable. She wailed and sobbed until she choked on her own saliva, and in between each frantic gasp for air her larynx collapsed and blocked her next breath. I watched helplessly as her red flushed skin drained to a pale white and her cries became weaker until all she had left in her was a whimper and a choked sigh. I was also in tears at this point, and all I could do was check to make sure she was still breathing and try to hold myself together. I held her until I was certain that she was okay, and then I placed her in her crib. I stepped into the hallway and fell to the floor in my own tears. I had never felt so helpless, to watch my 2 month old daughter struggling for air and there wasn’t anything I could do for her. I felt guilty for trying to make her eat, and guilty for her only getting 12 oz of formula that day. I didn’t know how I was going to help her thrive, if the very act of feeding her could make her struggle to breathe.