at 4 months, i was told this little girl was in the 8th percentile.
not that i worried. she was healthy, and happy.
she was initially sleeping very well. like 9-11 hours at 2-ish months…
and somewhere around 3 or 3.5 months, she was a newborn again at night.
every time i heard her cries i debated what to do.
i would get up like a zombie, feed her,
and put her back to bed, knowing that i would be up again in the night.
side note on her older brother:
he slept through the night and progressively slept longer
until he reached 11 or 12 hours.
the day after he broke that pattern with a midnight feeding,
i busted out the solids. and he went right back to it.
show off.
so her doc said to add in some solids to bring her weight up,
and he said to try to get a bottle in her just to measure how much she was getting.
that was the problem:
she would not take a bottle.
out of sleepless tearful desperation,
i spent the greater part of christmas day/evening holding a bottle to her face.
i held out, and didn’t nurse her.
though her cries stab my heart
4 people came in to say,
“are you going to feed her?”
{nah, i think i’ll hold this bottle away from her so she starves…}
i got enough to trickle down her throat without her noticing and she eventually wore herself out crying and i put her back to bed to sleep.
eventually she took a bottle late that night.
it was a christmas miracle.
{slash, she was starving at that point and had no choice.}
i pumped the following day,
after feeding her a 5oz bottle that she chugged,
and got 2oz.
2 freakin ounces!
i drank tons of water,
i tried limiting soda,
i stressed about how my baby was just not getting enough,
and no matter what i did,
it wasn’t enough. 2 ounces was about all i could muster from the girls…
i tried nursing and then after she screamed for more,
i’d make up a bottle of formula…
and i would be mad about it.
she almost always took at least 3,
AFTER nursing.
it wasn’t worth it,
not the time,
not my anxiety.
she made it 5 months,
and that’s great.
i have to do what’s best for her.
and my boobs were starving her.
a note on nursing boobs:
yeah, those D+ girls that look purchased?
they really only last 3 months the second time around.
i was a little depressed about it for a few days.
i hate stopping.
but to thank me, every time she takes a bottle,
she clutches onto my arm or hand and stares at me.
often giggling through her eating.
it’s like she’s saying,
“calm down, mom. we’ll have lots of time to bond and all that.”
and she’s right.
by the time we came home from the vacation,
she was solely on a bottle,
rolling over,
and started sleeping on her tummy…
and i was dry as the desert.
it’s been an eventful month for this one!
