But now, after just changing him, feeding him, and putting him into bed, I think I might just maybe have a few minutes to write.
Carson was born almost 4 months ago at 5 pounds 12 ounces, and 20.5 inches long. A little guy, for sure. Since then, he's been slowly but surely putting on weight. I knew he was little, but I really haven't been all that concerned. (Granted, I am me, so of course I worry and stress to an extent.) All in all, Carson gave me no real reason to be concerned. He's been a happy little boy, who just happens to take 1-2 hours to eat and who sleeps through the night.
No big deal, I thought. Actually, I thought it was awesome that he slept through the night, despite being awake most the day. Alex and I just figured he was happy and full and didn't have a reason to wake up during the night.
But his pediatrician has been concerned about his weight from the start. On Friday the 7th, Carson went in for one of his periodic weight checks. He had been sleeping before the appointment, so I didn't get the chance to feed him beforehand. So before the nurse weighed him, I asked if I could feed Carson. But Dr. Slette wanted his weight before and after he ate.
Before he ate, he was 11 pounds 1.9 ounces. The feeding was terrible because I was all stressed out about how much he would gain, and I was alone because Alex ended up having to work. Plus, the nurse kept coming in and asking if Carson was done yet. Gosh, pressure! So I know he didn't get very much milk. And on top of it, he had a giant poop.
So his post-feeding weight ended up being 11 pounds 1.3 ounces. Of course, I was freaking out, but then Dr. Slette came in and said his weight was really bad. She said that even with a bowel movement, Carson should have gained something from eating.
Absolute panic.
She told me I basically had two options: I could either go home and feed him every 2 hours from a bottle to determine his intake, or check him into the hospital. I wanted more than anything to be able to take him home, but Alex and I have tried countless times to get him to take a bottle and it hasn't worked. Dr. Slette said there was really only one option then.
I was spiraling. I cried like a baby while talking to her. I called Alex, completely freaked out. I called Macie, complete freaked out. And I poured out my soul to Heavenly Father, completely freaked out.
I took a couple hours to go home and think. No matter which way I was leaning, I felt sick to my stomach. Looking back on it, I realize that the reason I couldn't see any option as a good option was because I was blaming myself and beating myself up beyond belief.
"This is all my fault. I shouldn't have been so arrogant about feeling like a good mom. I should have been feeding Carson more. I shouldn't have ever let Carson sleep through the night. I shouldn't have let myself get so comfortable with breastfeeding, thinking that I was actually doing a good job. It's my fault Carson isn't where he should be weight-wise. And Dr. Slette thinks so, too. And she even said Carson may have developmental problems in the future because of it. And she said it could be because my milk isn't nutrient-rich enough."
That's all I could tell myself over and over and over. And because I'm the crazy, over-thinker that I am, I automatically connected all this to my eating disorder. If there wasn't a problem with milk transfer to Carson, and if it wasn't that Carson just has a really high metabolism, and if there wasn't another kind of explanation, Carson's low weight problems could very well be a result of me not eating adequately.. And that could be why my milk isn't nutritious enough for Carson to put on weight.. And it just brought on more tears because I've been trying so very hard to eat well.
So later on, Alex and I decided that the best thing to do for Carson was take him into the hospital. Ultimately, we just wanted what was best for Carson. After we made that decision, I felt so much peace and comfort, and I knew everything would be okay. I pleaded with my Father in heaven for strength, because even with feeling so much peace, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle everything without his help.
One of the most valuable things this experience taught me was that when I place faith in my Heavenly Father, he not only gives me the strength I wouldn't normally have on my own, but he also blesses me to not be so hard on myself. And that is huge for a person who's never gone a day without being mean to herself for something.
After talking to John and Terri, I not only felt greater peace with everything, but I also realized just how far I've come. A couple years ago, or even a year ago, I never would have been able to pull myself out of that panic mode. It really made me grateful for all the help I've had along the way and for the person I've become since then.
After arriving at the hospital, the nurses told me the game plan: for 24 hours, I would pump instead of breastfeed. That way, they could measure how much milk I produced and how much Carson drank. Carson would need to eat 3-4 ounces of milk (and formula, if needs be) every 2-3 hours.
Wow, overwhelming for sure. I pumped right away, and one of the nurses tried for a good solid 20 minutes to give Carson a bottle. The nurse tried different bottle nipples and different everything, but nothing worked. I honestly have never heard Carson cry so hard, and it was so difficult for me. I was really nervous that with all Carson's crying and then all the milk that wasn't getting in his belly, Carson would end up losing weight.
It got super ridiculous because since he wouldn't take the bottle, they had me "nurse" Carson (even though I had pumped completely) and attached a tube to my breast. They poured the pumped milk into the tube and sort of got Carson to take it that way. But then once they did the same thing with formula, he kept unlatching and crying ... and so we both got absolutely soaked with nasty smelling formula. We had to do that whole process for a few feedings, and ir was completely exhausting and draining.
But finally Courtney - one of my favorite nurses - somehow had the magical touch and got Carson to take a bottle. It was so exciting! It was amazing how it just all of a sudden clicked for Carson, but I was just so grateful it had!
At first, Carson wasn't able to drink more than 2 or so ounces. But as the frequent feedings continued, he sometimes drank as many as 6 or so ounces!
But Carson and I
Despite how tiring all this has been, there have been some really special bright spots in all of it. Carson's personality really came out over the weekend. Even though he was on a pretty intense feeding schedule, he learned to eat so fast instead of the 1-2 hour feedings he used to have. Even better than that, though, Carson really discovered his voice. After every feeding, he would just smile and coo and talk to me and the nurses. Needless to say all the nurses loved Carson and how interactive he was. :) Carson really got into grabbing his feet, too. There's something so ridiculously cute about that! And Carson finally will take a pacifier after this weekend! And obviously Carson being able to take a bottle now is just wonderful. :)
Carson was finally able to come home Monday, weighing in at 11 pounds 8.2 ounces. And hopefully he keeps putting it on!
I've been thinking a lot about how much this whole experience has taught me.. Alex's headaches were the worst they've been in a really long time over the weekend, so I spent a big chunk of time with Carson on my own. But I realized very quickly that I was only alone if I relied solely on myself instead of turning to my Savior and Heavenly Father. When I relied on them, my burdens and worries were lifted, and I was just ... genuinely happy and knew everything would work out.
I also discovered just how important it is for me to take care of myself too, not just Carson. I need to eat well and keep my eating disorder in line for both of us. And truth be told, even though I've been doing my best, it really probably hasn't been enough. But that's okay; that doesn't mean I need to beat myself up. It just means I need to work a little harder than I have in the past. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. I'm finding an eating disorder doesn't really just go away; it's a process to do continually better and not give up when you mess up along the way.
My dad asked me the other night how long I have to keep up with this whole 2-3 hour feeding routine, and I told him I wasn't sure but that all I can do is think about it and take it one day at a time. Because if I let my mind go to anywhere other than today and the moments right now, I begin to spiral all over again. So I'm just going to take all of this one day at a time. That's all we can ever really do, I suppose.
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