My little baby boy took to nursing the instant I helped him latch on. Although I felt like a clumsy fool, he seemed to know what he was doing better than I did. He fascinated me. He fulfilled that deepest desire I had to be needed, to be nurtured.
We seemed to fall into an easy rhythm with nursing. Ten minutes on the left, ten minutes on the right, and back to top off on the left. Then, Daddy took over to burp, diaper and put the little guy to bed. But before we made it to our first check-up, that nagging little fear that we all share crept into my head. Is he getting enough to eat?
It isn't like I can measure my output when he nurses. How can I tell how much he really is getting in ten or fifteen minutes? Especially in those first few days when all the baby drinks is colostrum.
Our lactation consultant assured us that although the baby only drank a few teaspoonfuls at each nursing, he was getting exactly what he needed. Loaded with nutrition and antibodies, it is extremely easy for him to digest. However, that doesn't mean his little tummy is immune to gas.
After my little guy was born, I was not worried so much about what I would eat, as much as I was about getting something into my grumbling stomach. How was I to know that if I had broccoli with my dinner, it would result in a very unhappy newborn? Why don't people tell me these kinds of things after I've just spent the majority of my New Year's Eve pushing out a 7 lb. 14 oz. baby?
Lucky for me, the nurses were just as enamored with my angel as I was, and they were pretty happy to play pass the baby until we got through the worst of his tummy troubles. It took a little longer than that for me to get over my guilt trouble. But, lesson learned.
Once my milk came in, I was amazed at the volume. At least it seemed like a lot of milk to me. I mean, I was just about bursting each time he demanded to be fed. Yet, he continued to only nurse in ten minute increments. Occasionally, I would have to pump some of the excess before nursing, just so I could avoid what we jokingly called the “geyser effect.” After accidentally shooting my little guy in the eye as he attempted to latch on, I made matters worse by laughing so hard that the “geyser effect” was born. I may have gotten the hang of nursing, but I never said I was perfect!
Our first well-baby visit was scheduled four days after the baby was born. I looked forward to that day with excitement as well as a little bit of anxious anticipation. Had he gotten longer? Was his belly button healing properly? Was everything working as it should? Was he having enough bowel movements? Was he getting enough to eat?
That morning, I packed the diaper bag, dressed the baby in his cutest pajamas (who wants layers when they just want the baby naked anyway?), and headed out the door. He snoozed in his carrier as we sat in the waiting room. I smiled at each of the other little ones, but my eyes always came back to my own little angel.
Then it was our turn, and I felt my stomach drop like a rock into the pit of my stomach. I desperately needed to know if I was providing enough sustenance for my baby, and yet I was suddenly very frightened to know the answer.
I stripped him down to his birthday suit and dutifully placed him on the scale, and started laughing. This time, the “geyser effect” had nothing to do with my milk production! The nurse and I sopped things up, and she assured me that it happens all the time. I was so busy smiling about the geyser that it barely registered when she told me the baby's new weight.
I barely remember my feet touching the ground as I walked out of the office that day. Not only had he put on weight in his first four days of life, he had exceeded his birth weight. I had found the answer to my biggest fear. Yes, he is getting enough to eat.
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