Child of My Heart
Mary O.
ID USA
From: NEW BEGINNINGS, Vol. 16 No. 3, May-June 1999, pp. 71-72
We provide articles from our publications from previous years for reference for our Leaders and members. Readers are cautioned to remember that research and medical information change over time.
At the end of 1997, my husband,
John, and I made the decision to add a child to our family, but not
in the traditional way. We already had two girls and two boys, ours
by birth. This time our hearts were moved to adopt a baby from Korea.
We wanted to be mommy and daddy to a child who had none. So in January
we began the adoption process with great excitement. We filled out mountains
of paperwork, showed a social worker around our temporarily spotless
house, and went to the police station to have our fingerprints taken
for a criminal background check. It was an expectant period very unlike
and yet oddly similar to my pregnancies. Once we had jumped through
all the adoption hoops, all that was left was the waiting. This I had
done before: sewing diapers and tiny clothes, making lists of things
to get done before the baby came, daydreaming about this child I'd never
met—a little stranger whom I already loved. It had been that way with
all my children.
Out of all my expectant daydreams,
the best of all were those of blissful hours spent rocking and nursing.
Yes, the more I thought about this baby, the more I became convinced
that I wanted to nurse him, just like my other children. I had nursed
my four biological children for a combined total of eight years, so
I was an experienced breastfeeding mom. To me, nursing was almost synonymous
with motherhood.
I knew it was possible to
nurse an adopted baby using a supplemental nursing system, but nursing
this baby could be challenging. Most babies adopted from Korea are already
between four and seven months old when they come into their adoptive
families. That's four to seven months of bottle-feeding, and I was told
that many foster mothers in the area where our baby would be born feed
their babies well and often. All I could do was hope that the baby who
would join our family would be young enough and patient enough to learn
something new.
In early May we received
wonderful news. We were to adopt a little boy who had been born in March.
Getting his visa and completing the paperwork would take at least two
months, and it could be as long as five months before we could bring
him home. We named our little boy Joshua, talked about him non-stop,
and hoped and prayed that his paperwork would be done in record time.
Once I had a picture to look
at I began to prepare in earnest. I began using an electric breast pump
just a few days after we received the good news. I had heard that adoptive
mothers may not be able to stimulate much of a milk supply, but I had
always produced plenty of milk. I had weaned my three-year-old just
ten months before and was still able to express a drop or two of milk
now and then. I expected that with a little pumping I would soon he
producing enough milk to freeze and stockpile for Joshua when he arrived.
Even if he utterly refused the breast, I planned to use my milk in his
bottles.
For two weeks I pumped for
ten minutes four times a day. Unfortunately, I didn't see so much as
a mist in the bottles. I was discouraged and wondered if this was really
going to work. It was now early June. Joshua's paperwork was progressing
nicely, so it was possible he would come home to us in a month. I wanted
to find a way to increase my milk supply.
I spoke with a friend who
is a lactation consultant. She gave me some encouragement and told me
that one hundred minutes of pumping per day was the standard for mothers
who were separated from their babies. I wondered how I could find that
much time with four children under the age of ten. I reminded myself
that I would be spending that time nursing in a few weeks, and I found
the time.
I began to feel like a pumping
zealot. Yet the more time I invested, the more I feared that our baby
boy would utterly refuse to nurse. Even worse, after a week of pumping
diligently, my milk supply hadn't increased. I searched for information
about adoptive nursing on the Internet and found a wealth of information.
Most of it was geared toward adoptive mothers of newborns, but some
applied to older adopted babies, too.
On the LLLI Web site, I found
the story of Darillyn Starr, who had successfully breastfed five adopted
babies, although she had never been pregnant herself. One of her babies
was almost a year old before she began to nurse! I got in touch with
Darillyn, who told me not to worry about not seeing milk yet. /p>
Most women don't have much
milk until their babies arrive. She also told me that extensive pumping
before the baby's arrival does not increase the chances of a successful
breastfeeding experience. She told me to pump if I wanted to, but not
to feel that I had to. Well, I had invested too much time pumping just
to quit at that point and I soon became convinced that pumping was beginning
to pay off. My breasts were feeling a little fuller. By the time we
received permission to bring Joshua home by mid-July, I was able to
squeeze out a dozen or so drops of milk per day by hand. It was not
enough to stockpile, but it was enough to give me hope.
On July 10, John and I hugged
our precious kids goodbye and set out to meet their little brother.
Joshua was exactly four months old. On the way to Korea I reminded myself
repeatedly that breastfeeding was only part of being a mommy, but I
still harbored great hope.
Meeting Joshua for the first
time was more like giving birth than I expected. Between jetlag and
the fierce summer humidity in Korea, I was tired, sweaty, and ever so
eager to see and touch my child. It seemed to take forever for his foster
mother to put him in my arms, though in reality it was about ten seconds.
He was gorgeous, and the bond that had begun when I saw his picture
blossomed in his actual presence. I drank in the sight and feel of him.
Later his foster mother took him back and fed him a bottle. When she
turned his body in toward her and cradled him tummy to tummy in the
perfect nursing position, I was thrilled. That part at least would not
be new to him.
We didn't get to keep him
with us until we were ready to fly home the next day. On the plane,
not wanting to rush him, I fed him a bottle, but it was obvious that
he was a baby who liked to suck. He would nuzzle and suck at the back
of my hand. My hopes soared! I had planned to wait a couple of days
after getting home to try to nurse him, but I was so eager that within
an hour or so of walking in the door at home, I was in the bedroom with
him trying to nurse. He wailed and stiffened in frustration and who
could blame him? He didn't even know that I was his mommy. He had only
met me two days ago!
All the next day I bottle-fed
him in the nursing position. He was content, but I found it so awkward.
Breastfeeding leaves you with one hand free, and I'd never really realized
that bottle-feeding takes two hands! The next day I began to work on
the gradual transition to the breast. My first step was to thread the
tiny tube of the nursing supplementer through the same type of bottle
nipple he was used to. Then I placed the bottle nipple (without the
collar) over my breast for the feeding. This way Joshua got used to
being against my skin, while still sucking on his familiar bottle nipple.
His formula now flowed from the supplementer rather than the bottle
and to all outward appearances, he was breastfeeding.
He accepted this step quite
easily. The next day I tried a nipple shield over my breast, with the
supplementer tube threaded through the shield. He hated it, so we went
back to the bottle nipple, which calmed him right down.
In the wee hours of the next
morning, while fighting jetlag and getting acclimated to his strange
new world Joshua became really fussy. I walked him, fed him, jiggled
him, and gave him the pacifier, but he still cried. Finally, around
four o'clock in the morning, I tried what had always pacified my older
children. I put him to my bare breast, and he latched on! It was just
for a minute or two at the first attempt, longer at the next try. I
was so breathless with hope, I didn't dare move, and I was so thrilled
that I forgot how tired I was.
Although Joshua preferred
a quiet environment while nursing, over the next few days it became
easier and easier. Now he has been a nursing baby for half his life
and every day I look down at this sweet son of mine, born on the other
side of the world and yet nurtured at my breast. I can hardly believe
the joy of it.
At first I had very little
milk, especially since Joshua resisted changing breasts in the middle
of feedings at first. He would cry and the feeding would be cut short
abruptly. Once he became used to taking both sides at a feeding, my
supply really increased. Most adoptive mothers need to supplement throughout
their nursing experience, especially with a baby who is not a newborn.
Calculating Joshua's caloric needs by his weight and activity level
right now, he needs 40-42 ounces (1200-1260 ml) of milk or formula per
day to grow. He is only taking 20 ounces (1200 ml) per day from the
supplementer. That means I am producing about half of what he needs.
I am thrilled!
Even more important than
the nourishment that his body receives from my milk is the nurturing
his soul receives at my breast. When we settle into that rocking chair
to nurse and he reaches up to touch my face, or gives me a smile without
even letting go of my breast, there is no doubt on this earth that I
am Joshua's mommy and he is my baby. We both know it in the depths of
our souls.
Last updated Friday, November 3, 2006 by njb.
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