When my son was born, he had problems regulating his blood sugar and I was told that I either needed to allow him to have a bottle of formula or he would be sent to the NICU. Of course, I wanted to keep him out of the NICU so he was given a bottle. When I was finally given the chance to nurse him a few hours later, he wouldn't latch. Every doctor, nurse, and lactation consultant told me that the reason he wouldn't latch to my breast is because I had given him a bottle and now he didn't want to work for my milk. I was never able to get him to latch, so for the first 2 months of his life, I exclusively pumped.
Unfortunately, he still struggled to eat. He would scream and gag and cry and throw up every single bottle. EVERY. SINGLE. BOTTLE. For 2 months straight, I watched my tiny little baby legitimately screaming in pain to do something as simple as eat. After countless trips to the pediatrician, he was finally diagnosed with acid reflux and put on zantac. Three weeks later, he hadn't gained a single ounce. This is when our pediatrician told me that he wasn't tolerating my breast milk and needed to be on formula for acid reflux. We made the switch and he was also put on prilosec in addition to the zantac.
He slowly started to gain weight, but would still cry and scream at every feeding. Everyone I talked to... Our pediatrician, my sisters, my own mother, made me feel guilty. "Babies cry. You're just being dramatic." They said. Every now and then I'd start to doubt my instincts and begin to think that maybe they were right. Maybe I was just a terrible mom who couldn't handle a little bit of crying.
But I'd snap out of that quickly, usually at the next bottle, as I watch my beautiful, innocent child gag and choke and wither in pain while he ate. His beautiful blue eyes looking into mine begging me to help him. I couldn't handle it anymore. At 4 months I switched pediatricians.
Our new pediatrician seemed much more concerned and sympathetic as I told her what was happening. She instantly maxed out his doses of zantac and prilosec. It actually helped, and by the next month, my little dude had a huge weight gain. The crying and struggling to eat was still happening, but not as intensely and not as often.
However, once he turned 6 months, it was like we were back at square one. He'd fight me through every bottle. He absolutely could not handle solids or purees. Again, my family, unintentionally, made me feel like it was my fault. "Kelly you hear you feed him purees, that's how he's going to learn to eat. He's so bad at it because you won't feed him." So I kept on trying. His evening meal (a 6 ounce bottle and a small plastic tub of some type of baby puree) would take about an hour and 45 minutes. About 45 minutes for the 6 ounce bottle, and another hour to TRY to get that baby food in his tummy. It wasn't that he didn't like the food. He seemed to love it. He'd open his sweet little mouth up wide every time that spoon got close. But as soon as the food went into his mouth, it would slowly leak out his lips.
Fast forward to two weeks ago. A very dear friend of mine, who's beautiful baby had been having some of the same symptoms as Harrison, took her daughter to a pediatric dentist who discovered and lasered her lips and tongue tie. After talking to her about it, I decided it wouldn't hurt to have Harrison checked out, so I called and made an appointment with one of the preferred providers.
Last Tuesday, almost a week ago, Harrison, at 7 months old, had his class 4 lip tie and class 3 posterior AND anterior tongue ties lasered. By that evening, our lives had changed. He is now drinking 8 ounce bottles in about 5 minutes. Not a single tear. Scream. Cry. Gag. Back arch. Choke. Vomit. Not once. 6 bottles a day. For 6 days now. 36 absolute perfect, beautiful, wonderful bottles. You can never realize how beautiful it is to watch your son eat painlessly unless you watched him struggle for 7 months before. It's more beautiful than any sunrise or sunset. More beautiful than any painting.
Last night, for the first time since the revision, Harrison had some pureed carrots. He ate them as tears heavily flowed down my face while I watched him take spoonful after spoonful, and easily swallow them down, with nothing spilling out of his perfect little lips, this time his eyes thanking me, instead of begging me for help.
~ Kelly Kulak
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