The Frustration and Fear of Feeding Time

So, feeding your baby seems like it should be an easy, natural, peaceful moment. And most of the time for us, it is. But sometimes it isn't. I am not sure how it is with full-term babies, but with preemies, in particular mine, it can be a huge source of anxiety and frustration.

I really wanted to breastfeed, knowing all the benefits, especially for preemies. Unfortunately, it just never happened for us. Whether it was from the stress of our situation, being separated from him while he was in the NICU for 6 week ( I was there 12 hours a day but it's not the same) I just couldn't keep up with what he needed, and I tried everything. Tea, supplements, everything that is suggested to help production I did - it just didn't work out. So the bottle and formula it was.

Like a lot of preemies, Wyatt has acid reflux. We found this out in the NICU, when he was about 35 weeks old. He had been eating from the bottle for about 2 weeks, and had some great skill at it! Then one day out of the blue, he started to spit up, and it just didn't stop. Every feeding got worse and worse, until eventually he decided that spitting up wasn't worth it, and went on a hunger strike. He was put on Zantac, and things seemed to get better, but not completely. 

He fights, struggles, arches his back, and cries in pain while eating at times when his reflux is acting up. And for an almost 7 lb pound baby, he is surprisingly strong! He makes little gremlin noises if laid down too soon after eating, so he can't just go to sleep right away or we risk him losing his lunch (or dinner or snack or whatever). We learned a few important lessons in the NICU regarding feeding him. Those nurses are true treasures and you can really learn a lot from them during your time there, if you have a teachable spirit and want to learn. 

Rule 1: Feeding your baby is not cuddle time, it's a job.

A nurse told me this when she saw me feeding Wyatt in the time honored way that you see depicted in every photo, the baby nestled gently in the crook of your arm, eating peacefully from his bottle. This is not our reality. Instead, we feed him in an upright position, either braced against our bent knees, or sitting up straight while we hold him with our hands bracing his neck and head safely. It is not the most comfortable or convenient way to feed your child, but you do it if you need to, and we need to. Then we need to hold him upright for at least 30 minutes after he eats. It's not really a hardship to hold your warm and contented baby for 30 minutes though, except maybe at 3 am and you just want to get back to bed. 

Rule 2: Never give up on the burp.

Probably one of the best pieces of advice we were given by a nurse. I would pat and pat and pat and pat to no avail, and then assume that Wyatt didn't need to burp. I was wrong, which he proved to me by urping up his food all over me, sometimes in great quantities. I still have to really work on burping the boy, he doesn't give them up easily. I work on it sometimes until my arm feels like it is going to fall off, but I don't give up! And just think, this happens every three hours.

I dread these moments of reflux. No one wants to hear their baby crying from being fed, or having them fight you to avoid eating. It is unpleasant and scary and sad. Most of the time, his medicine helps, but there are those occasions when it just doesn't. And with Wyatt, every feeding counts. He needs to gain weight and grow, to catch up. It is just that much harder when eating can be so hard for him.

I have heard that babies grow out of their reflux, and I can only hope that Wyatt's time is coming. I just want him to be able to eat without pain, so that he can eat more, and grow big and strong even faster.

How about you? Any reflux stories or advice?

My first Mother's Day

It began with an early morning poopy diaper. Bleary eyed, I tried to calm my son at an hour I hadn't seen since college, way before having a baby. My movements hampered by sleep deprivation, my coordination and skills were all off, making cleaning him up and keeping the mess from spreading everywhere difficult. But we made it through and I was rewarded by bright eyes and a contented boy, who was also getting a bit hungry. I laid him back down while I went in search of his next bottle. Out of our premade formula, I opened the canister to find that there was not enough left to make another batch. Since my husband had stayed up longer with our son to give me a few more hours of sleep, I didn't want to wake him for a trip to the store too. So that left me. After pulling on some random clothes from my bedroom floor, and running a brush through my crazy mop of messy hair, which only made it worse, I ran up to the CVS on the corner. I was surprised by the amount of men there, especially at this early hour - then I remembered it was Mother's Day. The greetings cards and candy in the hands of the other patrons was a big tip. 

My day fell into a gentle rhythm. Church with my mom and aunt, a nice ride around a pretty island with my husband and baby, followed by a ride through the park while rain fell around us. It felt cozy in that car, with the gentle rain shower splashing onto the windows, the three of us in the car together, safe and warm. It was like time could stand still, as we looked out the windows at the birds, the yellow fields of dandelions, families barbecuing despite the weather. Billy gave me a beautiful necklace, with Wyatt's birthstone on it, along with an etched leaf with a "W" for Wyatt, which I love. But it was his gift of time spent with me that meant the most. Just us, no agenda, nothing which had to be done except enjoy the day slowly. Our lives are so busy most of the time now, squeezing in chores between feedings, doing all of the important business of living in rushed hours, but not really taking the time to enjoy what we are doing and who we are doing them with. My Mother's Day gave me that time, to enjoy my small family, my boys. To remind me that every dirty diaper exists because my son does, when we never thought that we would have a child.  My Mother's Day might not have begun like a commercial holiday, with breakfast in bed, flowers,  a clean kitchen. But it was real. Every dirty diaper, every last minute trip to the store, every minute of lost sleep are moments I rejoice in, for this boy is now in my life, and all that comes with him.