paranoia

It's so hard to have a sick child. The Little Mister really is feeling better today, but still...I'm a paranoid new mommy with (in my mind, anyway) reason to be paranoid.

When the Little Mister was born, he was 7 pounds 7 ounces.

At his two week appointment, he was 6 pounds.

In two weeks he lost 18% of his birth weight...and I didn't notice.

I didn't notice.

How did I not notice??

I felt like the Worst Mommy Ever. Looking back, I'm guessing I didn't notice because I was barely conscious during the days, living in a haze of no sleep plus painkillers due to a very painful and damaging delivery. It was all I could do to nurse, change diapers, rock to sleep, feed myself... But hindsight doesn't make me feel any better. My baby got smaller instead of bigger, and I didn't notice.

We spent five days in the hospital. At first it was only observation: I kept careful track of exactly how long he nursed, and when, and I even weighed his diapers. He was a champion nurser; I had good let-down, his latch was perfect, and he ate until I was empty, on both sides.

After 48 hours with no growth, the doctor asked me to give the Little Mister a bottle. Part of me was heartbroken. I loved nursing. I loved that I could feed my child from my own body. But my baby wasn't growing. So I nursed for 20 minutes, and then offered him a bottle.

He inhaled that bottle.

My baby was starving. For two weeks he'd been hungry.

The Little Mister didn't grow a whole lot at first; he had a milk intolerance, so we switched to soy. And then the ounces started coming. When we left the hospital on the fifth day he was 6 pounds 12.6 ounces.

The final prognosis? I didn't make enough milk. Despite (according to my doctors) doing everything right, pumping practically every minute that I wasn't nursing or bottle feeding or sleeping, my milk supply never increased enough that I could feed the Little Mister without formula. About a week before he was three months old my milk just wasn't there anymore, dried up completely overnight. This is something I really don't like to talk (or even think) about, because it feels like I wasn't good enough. I know in my heart that isn't true, but it's still hard. Every day I am thankful for the quality of formula in the United States (we're in Germany but we use formula from the U.S.), but I still have twinges of guilt and, more often, sadness when I make a bottle.

But the other result of all this is that now I pay attention to everything. I worry when he takes longer naps, when he spits up more than usual, when his dirty diapers seem spaced too far apart, when he eats less or more than usual. We go to the clinic probably more than we should. My paranoia has paid off, because now we're treating his acid reflux instead of worrying about it, and we fixed his constipation by switching to a hypoallergenic formula. But when he started acting funny on Monday I just didn't know if I was being paranoid or if he really needed a doctor.

Thankfully, the Little Mister didn't need a doctor. We had a rough couple of days, but today he's happy and smiley and eating like he did on the weekend (and before that).

I'm still paranoid. I think that's going to last for awhile.