Author: Linda Wright
(Linda is an African American woman and a graduate of UCB Psychology Department. She spent 7 years on the staff of Campus Crusade for Christ. She is the wife of one husband and mother of 3 teenagers, one son and two daughters. Linda is a storyteller, writer of unpublished children's books and a guidance aid for children with the Second Step program for elementary schools.)
What do you do when you’ve blown it as a mom? When guilt and shame tightly wraps around your trembling shoulders like a damp blanket of fog and creeps into the depth of your soul? It’s hard to shake it off. You feel tried, judged, and condemned by everyone but most deeply by self. I’ve been there. It hurts.
I should have realized something was wrong. How did I miss it? I already had two children ages three and five. At her two month check- up, my baby weighed less than at her birth weight of 6 pounds, 10 ounces. Now the doctor said she was 5 pounds and 10 ounces. How did a pound ease off her tiny body on my watch?
“Why I brought her in two weeks ago,” I protested. “The nurse practitioner said she was 8 pounds and 3 ounces. It’s impossible for her to drop from 8 pounds to 5 in two weeks! On that appointment, I had pointed out the hollows in her cheeks and chest and asked why her ribs clearly showed and the nurse practitioner said she looked perfectly fine to her.”
The Pediatrician quietly asked the nurse to bring in a bottle. I felt as if I was going to faint. As we talked the pediatrician gave my baby a bottle with 2 ounces of formula in it. It seemed she drank it empty in 2 seconds flat.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Wright, somehow the nurse practitioner made a big mistake. I think we got to your baby in time. Feed her 2 ounces every 2 hours around the clock. If you went home and pumped your milk you’ll get very little. Come back every two days for her weight to be checked.
I was devastated. I felt personally attacked in the core of my being – the very center of my womanhood and my ability to care for an infant. I burned with guilt and shame. Yet deep down inside of me I still wanted to nurse. I talked to the Pediatrician and to lactation consultants. I had heard that women, who never had been pregnant, can develop a limited milk supply for their adopted infants by using a rented hospital pump every 2 hours for a month.
Encouraged with this information, and armed with determination, I rented a hospital pump and used a supplemental nursing system (SNS) and formula to feed her. (Actually, the hospital paid for everything because it was one of their employees who weighed her wrong.) The doctor’s words were true. I had less than a teaspoon of milk after that first session with the pump. How could she survive on so little?
A SNS was a strange looking device that Moms hang around their neck and fill with formula or mother’s milk. Two tiny tubes taped to the breasts helps the baby nurse and keeps a steady flow of milk dripping into the corner of the baby’s mouth. It helps the infant stay interested in nursing at the same time making it simple to feed.
I loved and I hated that SNS. After three long days and nights, I was able to slow down the frequency of feedings, especially at night. My milk supply returned to normal after two weeks of pumping, but it took until she was 6 months old before she nursed without the SNS. I continued to use the pump because her sucking wasn’t strong enough to keep up my milk supply. It was a lot of work but it was so worth it. Every three hours, from 6 am to 9 pm, I pumped my milk. At night, it was the bottle. Thank God for bottles. Those feedings only took five minutes. Nursing took a good 20 minutes with that little girl.
My husband was a great encouragement to me. He never blamed me or acted like it was my problem. We were in this together. He took great care of our other two children. By this time our oldest was in kindergarten.
Daily, I meditated on verses in the Bible that talked about nursing. They became dear to my heart. Isaiah 66: 7-14 was my favorite, especially verse 11 – “That you may nurse and be satisfied with her comforting breasts, that you may suck and be delighted with her bountiful bosom.”
It did come to pass. At six months of age, my baby was able to nurse without the help of the SNS and bottles. She thrived and grew. She had academic problems from kindergarten through second grade that might have been due to her loss of weight and nutrition, but with help from the school’s resource center, good teachers, tutoring from Kumon Learning Center, and a well researched nutritional supplement, her academic achievements began to blossom in third grade. She also struggled with allergy problems and painful ears on airplanes. Even though she was hungry when she lost weight she was also happy. We called her the “happy to starve child”.
One La Leche League lactation consultant gave me a possible answer to our problem. Once she had one client with 6 children. Her first three nursed right after birth, but the rest had problems. After the fourth one had trouble nursing, she brought her SNS to the hospital for the last two births and used the hospital pump and the SNS for four months. She knew her last two babies would need the SNS right after birth. Her first three children had stretched her nipples until they were too large for newborns to latch onto. I received great comfort from this information.
Now I have compassion and real empathy for women who feel they have blown it with caring for their child. I understand their real feelings of remorse and pain. I am able to talk to them about overcoming their icky feelings. Jesus’ blood, shed on the cross, covers all our guilt and shame. He sets us free! In Romans 8: 1, I read “therefore there is now no condemnation for (Linda) who is in Christ Jesus.” It’s as if He said “I don’t condemn you, don’t condemn yourself. I have a purpose in all of this.”
Three and a half years later, I unpacked the SNS to let a friend borrow it. Her baby had an ear infection and didn’t want to nurse. But the SNS made nursing easy for screaming son. At age 3, my toddler saw me with it and said “that helped me get Nana.” She hadn’t seen it since she was 6 months old!
The following is a poem I wrote about my three children. Nana was our private nursing term.
Who Do I Nurse Next?
Here’s Emmanuel
After five days he latches on
It’s Nana time!
Here’s Kenya
Two to nurse as if they were twins
It’s Tandem Nursing Time!
Here’s Emmanuel
He is much older now
It’s weaning time!
Here’s Baby number three soon to be
Mama is too sore
Wow! Kenya understands!
Here’s Mama - free
Not one clinging to me
It’s no Nana time!
Here’s Karis
She can’t nurse,
It’s training time!
Here’s lost weight
A missing pound
Shame and guilt came sneaking around.
Here’s SNS, lactation consultants,
Tubes, tape and hospital pumps for
Four long months
Here’s weight gain
She nurses on her own!
Once again, it’s Nana time
Here comes Cookie Monster,
Dolls, Beanie babies and many more.
Karis declares “They must have Nana first!”
Here is one lucky Mom
Who learned to nurse and wean
One, two, three, and all!
Next Week's Author: Jennifer Patchin
