Worth the Wait
Margo T.-R.
CA USA
From NEW BEGINNINGS, Vol. 19 No. 1, January-February 2002, p. 15
The birth of my son was the
most beautiful and most terrifying event of my life rolled up into one.
It took three years and four pregnancies to have Liam, and his birth
was a much-anticipated event. I waited so long to have a baby. I had
a drug-free, doula-assisted hospital birth. Words cannot describe the
feeling I had when he was born and handed up to my waiting arms. Liam
was nine pounds, 12 ounces and 21 inches long. A big, healthy-looking
baby. I had pulled my gown away from my breast so that he could nurse
immediately. My birth had gone exactly as planned, but everything changed
once Liam arrived. He was not breathing and within minutes, the nurse
was rushing him from the room with my husband in close pursuit. I kept
asking the nurse to bring him in to me as soon as they had him breathing
well because I wanted to breastfeed him right away. It would be five
days before I would be able to put Liam to my breast.
About six hours after his
birth, Liam was airlifted to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at a nearby hospital that had more resources for his care.
I was discharged shortly after Liam was airlifted, and my husband and
I rushed home to unpack my hospital bag and repack it with clothes I
hoped would fit me for the two weeks we'd been told we'd be staying
at the hospital. During my pregnancy, I had purchased a double-electric
pump "just in case" and had been thinking that it had been
a waste of money since I didn't have any plans to work outside the home.
It has more than paid for itself. I spent a long time sitting at my
son's bedside holding him, with ventilator tubes and wires going everywhere.
I held him close to me, his skin against mine, and prayed that he would
feel close to me even though I couldn't nurse him. About 36 hours postpartum,
I finally got to meet up with a lactation consultant who took me into
a private room to show me how to work my pump. I was scared that I'd
waited too long and that I wouldn't produce anything. After a few minutes
on the pump, two small beads of colostrum came from each nipple and
slowly rolled down into the waiting bottles. I felt so elated and relieved
that my breasts were actually producing something. I didn't get very
much the first two days but it was enough to feed my son and when my
milk came in on the third day, there was an abundance of it.
On the evening of August
9th, Liam was removed from his ventilator. He was five days old; I had
waited what seemed like an eternity. An hour after they took Liam off
the ventilator, the nurse told me that Liam was able to nurse. They
called in the lactation consultant and she helped me get myself positioned.
Liam latched on perfectly, much to my relief, and began vigorously sucking.
Within minutes, though, he was sound asleep and it took quite a lot
of work and at least two people other than myself tickling his feet,
wetting his face with cold water, taking off his shirt, putting on his
shirt, doing anything we could think of to keep him alert enough to
nurse.
The first five days of breastfeeding
were frustrating. We had a different nurse each day, and each one had
something different to say about how, when, where, and why to breastfeed.
One made me top him up with pumped milk in a bottle when he didn't eat
the required amount in one sitting. He threw it up. They made me weigh
him before and after every feeding. They had a set amount he was expected
to eat, based on his weight. Since he was a big baby, he was expected
to eat a fair amount. Liam is like me; he eats a lot of little snacks
throughout the day. I had to get the doctor to write orders on his chart
for me to feed him on demand. My sister-in-law is a La Leche League
Leader in the San Diego area and she mailed me information about sleepy
babies, how to pump, and anything else she could think of that I might
have trouble with while learning to breastfeed in the NICU. If it were
not for my daily phone calls to her and the material she provided, I
would have gone mad trying to sort out what was true and what wasn't.
On August 15th, we took Liam
home. I had waited so long for the moment that we could get in the car
with our baby and drive home. It had been a grueling 10 days but Liam
was healthy, and he had been fed nothing but my milk.
I grieve for the fact that
I missed those first moments of breastfeeding right after delivery and
that my son was too tired and I was too stressed to enjoy our first
moments of breastfeeding in the hospital. My son is now a healthy, 28-pound,
nine-month-old who is exclusively breastfeeding. We've had our challenges.
Liam had heart surgery in
January so we had to deal with fasting before and nursing after the
operation. But it is worth it to hold my big, healthy boy in my arms
and look down at him as he nurses. His eyes roll back in his head and
he sighs. His little hand kneads my breast while he sucks. Things may
not have begun the way I planned, but things are going according to
plan now. My plan was to breastfeed and I am succeeding at that. It
was worth the wait.
Last updated Wednesday, October 11, 2006 by njb.
Page last edited Sun Oct 14 09:30:06 UTC 2007.
