Dwelling on Andrew with Delight

Two years ago today Andrew got my heart by showing me that he wanted to breastfeed. Now, for me, and possibly other mothers that have a baby born by Cesarean 7 weeks before the due date, that your body may be capable of all of the same things as when your child comes full term but there is a bit of a delay. So my milk, actually the initial milk called colostrum, was not available after he was born.

This broke my heart when I first pumped. Only a few drops were extracted.

They told me I would have to pump for a few days in order to get my milk flowing. So that's what I did. Every 3 hours, I pumped for 4 days without getting much each time. It was so saddening to me. I wanted to give him the added nutrients all of his siblings had had that were born.

On the 5th day after his, I was about ready to give up thinking that my body just wasn't going to do it. That I was wearing myself out for nothing. So I held him on the 23rd of 2010 and apologized because it seemed that I wouldn't be able to give him breastmilk even through his little tube that they had down his nose into his stomach. And NICU nurses said that he probably wouldn't nurse.

So I held him, the little 7 inch long bundled up body that his 20 inches was, and sang to him and enjoyed my snuggle time with him. He always nestled into me without hesitation as though that was always where he wanted to stay. It was so nice. He was much more of a cuddler than any of the kids have been, including Lynn.

Then he began to move his little head back and forth. It was 6:30 at night. I only remember because when I came to visit, the marker board recorded his vitals, last feeding time, the name of the nurse and Mark and I's contact info in case they needed to call us. It was a vital part of the communication and monitoring his health at a glance.

So anyway, somehow I remember it was 6:30, because the movement of his head became much more insistent. I looked up at the clock and saw that 7 was his next feeding. Now in NICU they have the babies on a VERY strict feeding schedule. We were told not to mess with it to make sure he adapted to it. So he's giving me the cues that he's wanting to eat and BAD and I look at the clock and see he has to wait another half hour.

But he keeps moving his head back and forth and making little grunting noises as he was getting upset at not getting any results. So, I looked at the clock again and decided, this is my little boy. He's telling me he's hungry so I can't deny him that. Especially since I did not get to be with him around the clock. The other boys needed me to spend time with them as well. It was so hard.

So I made the adjustments to get him into position and he latched on immediately. It was like he was a pro and the little tug and sound of his swallows warmed my heart. The little guy really was hungry. He really did want to nurse. And I felt tears well up in my eyes. My heart felt so full and I was so proud of him. Next to breathing at the moment he was born 7 weeks early and not having to depend upon life support, this was a wonderful accomplishment. So little and already doing so well.

He nursed for 5 maybe 10 minutes. I came to learn that that was his typical pattern. He didn't have enough energy to nurse for a full session.

Then he fell asleep all content. I just kept staring at him amazed letting him stay close to me. I relished this moment. I still cherish the memory if you can't tell.

The nurse came in at 7 to feed him and I told her what had happened. I was expecting a lecture on how I had messed up his schedule and I was fully prepared to tell her she could take his schedule and shove it at the moment. It was first time wanting to breastfeed and I thought that bonding and closeness was much more important than that.

Well she didn't scold me but said she was glad to hear that he had showed an interest in nursing. She took the feeding tube in his nose, attached a syringe and pulled out the contents he had drank. It was half of what he needed per his weight. It seemed so strange and cruel. So she pushed the colostrum back through his tube into his tummy. Then she filled up the syringe with the amount he needed to finish the feeding and I held it up so that he could complete his feeding.

They measured everything meticulously and tracked his weight with each feeding. It was amazing and sad. So many monitors hooked up to his little tiny body.

That's why I always held him the entire time I visited him. Whether it was a few hours or 12 hours (there were few such visits that were so long). It was so unfortunate. We'd talk. I'd sing. He'd snuggle in close. I'd kiss him often and marveled at the miracle he was to us.

What wonderful things to dwell on as we head into our second Christmas without him at home.