Buster in the hospital sinkI think that the blogging really stopped in January--that's when everything came to a standstill for me. (I blame the Christmas Letter wherein I wrote that I was looking forward to a much easier year when 2011 rolled along.)
The holidays were super busy, as holidays tend to be, and we had to reschedule Buster's checkups a few times due to unexpected family events and illnesses. By the time we made it to the clinic it had been two months since his last appointment. He had not gained even an ounce in two months. Not one ounce.
The doctor took one look at him and called the hospital where he was born.
Diagnosis: failure to thrive and severe anemia and possession of the worst mother ever.
I drove him to the hospital where he was admitted and given a private room, as he was the only kid on the ward without RSV, and we lived there, on the fifth floor, for seven days, and that's when I kind of shut down.
I was in charge of his food, of making it, of the delivery system, of the waste retrieval--how had I missed this? Partly I know it was because we were always told "He is a preemie--he will be small for a while." But how was I to know that he was too small?
If I am being honest, there were whispers. Proddings and nudges to my spirit. And I dismissed them, mostly because of pride.
The ONE thing my body did correctly was make milk--and it made a boatload. So how could it not be enough? I would not entertain the idea, no matter how often it popped into my head, that it was not doing the job.
I needed to quantify that I was a good mother. And nursing did that for me. And starved my son in the process*.
And so we spent a week in the hospital fattening Buster up. Drying my supply with cabbage leaves. Teaching the boy to sit up and roll and smile and sleep for longer than 90 minutes at a stretch. (Apparently he was not fussy or sensitive, just hungry.) Teaching me to rely on the Holy Ghost again, and to listen and obey willingly and quickly. And one of the messages I heard loud and clear was "Focus on yourself and your home and your family and put away everything else."
And that's why I left the internets.
*I am absolutely not advocating giving up nursing or not ever breast feeding. Don't pull that crap.
Posts
8 comments:
Buster is adorable. Seriously. There is something about babies in bathroom sinks.
I'm not really sure I would have noticed if Ike weren't growing. Honestly. I don't own a scale, so he only gets weighed when he goes to the doctors, which isn't very often. If he was eating plenty and filling plenty of diapers, I would assume things were good.
So I don't think you're a bad mother. Of course, it's possible that that doesn't mean anything since I am quite possibly the worst mother on the planet.
I know you're not a bad mother. Au contraire.
I'm glad Buster is getting fat. And I'm sorry for the hard things.
I love your posts like these. I love all of them - but these just hit me here.
Between three months old and six months old Chloe actually lost three pounds. No joke. And I figured it was normal. We had a fantastic doctor who caught it. In the end the answer for me was formula--my milk supply was actually decreasing, no matter what I did.
Buster's doing well now. Don't beat yourself up--in a couple of years you'll look at those pictures and wonder how on earth you missed it, but be so grateful that he's healthy and causing all kinds of havoc in your home. And you'll know that's the important thing.
And, as always, I admire your courage--you were willing to follow the promptings of the spirit and do what was needed. You are awesome.
Are you saying I should quit breastfeeding? I don't even like cabbage.
Buster Boy, you have some 'splainin to do...
If it makes you feel any better, I might make rich milks but I do not make enough. With both of my kids I have had to supplement from almost day 1. That is my lot in life as a mother (amongst many other lots and travails) and though it doth suck greatly at times, many other things could suck a lot worse.
Welcome back. You're coming next week!
Ah honey, please do not say that about being a bad mom. I know the guilt one feels with a diagnosis of FTT--been there done that. And that kid is healthy and happy and one of my most grateful children. So please erase that thought from your mind right this instant.
Buster is great and he is blessed to have you as his mother.
Thanks so much for the shared experiences, all. Hearing that others have gone through things like this makes a huge difference--serio.
Post a Comment