The first time I gave birth, our baby boy was born at a decent 8 pounds 9 ounces. At our two-day checkup after dismissal, he had gained weight. Despite the learning curve of breastfeeding, I thought that things were going well. I even did a facebook brag about his weight gain. (Come on. You’ve done it too….)
By one month of age, our little guy had lost weight and was “failure to thrive.” I was pumping on an hourly basis with weekly and sometimes twice weekly visits with lactation consultants. I was told that his latch was wrong, that I didn’t have enough milk, that I should continue breastfeeding as often as possible and pumping every time afterwards.
I pumped and fed on demand and on schedule, and always was attached to my nemesis…Medela. I read every book on breastfeeding there was at the time and sent a few “Help Me!” e-mails to La Leche League leaders.
Everything that everyone said boiled down to this: “Maybe there’s something wrong with you. Maybe your physical anatomy will not ever support breastfeeding your child.”
Shame and fatigue cloaked me on an hourly basis. We started supplementing with formula, but he still wouldn’t gain weight. At four months of age, our little guy was so emaciated and constantly fussy, that our family physician recommended we start him on solids early.
He bulked up and became a tubby baby. I continued to breastfeed him and supplement with formula until he was a year. By one year of age, physicians were recommending we put our baby on reduced calorie food items. Put our little guy on a diet?! After he starved four months of his life?
Right after his first birthday, our jolly little guy got his first few teeth. And he wailed. And wailed. And wailed some more. He’d never really cried like this, so we never had a good glimpse of the back of his throat.
It didn’t look normal. You know in the cartoons when characters are yelling and the camera zooms into the back of their mouth and there’s a little thing that dangles down and is vibrating? That’s a uvula. Our boy’s uvula was split in two. (He had something called a bifurcated uvula.) Immediately, things started to make sense. I e-mailed our family physician. After some medical tests, we were informed that our little guy had a cleft palate above the tissue layer in his palate that was outwardly undetectable. The reason he hadn’t been gaining weight was because he was unable to suck—even from a bottle. I was so sad for our baby, but I was also so relieved. (After I got done being angry about the scads of times I was told it was my fault.)
It WASN’T me! I can’t even explain how freeing that is. Our son’s weight has evened out, without aforementioned diet, and I’ve gone on to successfully breastfeed our 10-month-old daughter. I wanted to share this story because I know the horrendous guilt that mommies feel when their kids aren’t gaining enough weight.
Sometimes it’s just not you. Please believe me, if your child is struggling to gain weight, I know you’re doing your best. Eat another lactation cookie if it makes your heart feel better, but I want you to remember that you are more than your baby’s growth milestones. You are a valuable, loving woman, capable and intelligent. If you do have concerns about your child’s weight gain, by all means consult a physician or a lactation consultant. Do what you need to do. But go easy on yourself. Because sometimes it might take a year to realize that it wasn’t you at all.
