Be Careful What You Wish For

Throughout my pregnancy with John, I was looking forward to holding a little baby. Not just a baby, but a little baby. I kept imagining holding a tiny little being in my arms, so small and delicate. I knew that in time he'd grow to be larger, but I'd get to cradle something so fragile, if not for only a little while. At 8lbs 09oz, he was anything but small. From day one he was large. I remember holding him for the first time thinking how heavy he was. It was a workout just to hold and carry him. And he grew rapidly too. There were rolls on his rolls by the time he was a few months old. I was saddened that he never was my little baby. Then I got pregnant again.

This time I knew that there was no hopes of me ever having a little baby. It was confirmed near the end of my pregnancy that this was going to be a "monster" baby, easily weighing 9 or 10 pounds. There were even talks of his shoulders being too large to birth him vaginally. After Mason was born, and he was laying on my chest, I thought he felt lighter. I figured this was only because I was used to carrying a 30-some pound toddler around. When they called out his stats, I figured I had heard wrong when they said he was 7lbs 06oz, but it was so. I couldn't believe it - I had a little baby! He was so light, so little, so delicate, so perfect. But it wasn't meant to stay that way.

At first I thought he was colicky. At night he'd scream and scream and scream. I leaked whenever it was time for him to eat, and never once thought that I wasn't producing enough milk. At a month old, he weighed 8lbs 10oz. I was so happy as I was unable to breastfeed John. The second month wasn't as good. He started to scream more, and when I started to pump, I couldn't get a lot. He had a horrible latch and would pull off all the time screaming. Anytime I fed him with the bottle, he'd eat a lot - at least triple what I could pump at a session - and then he'd be happy. Happy? My screaming ball of madness was happy? I started testing my theory and decided that he was starving. He was so light, so little, so delicate, so... not perfect. I begged my husband to let me feed him formula, but he was convinced that he was doing fine. Finally I couldn't stand it any longer and fed him his first bottle of formula at 8 weeks old. Two weeks later we had him weighed at the doctor's office - 9lbs 04oz. That was not good.

Now my days are filled of me measuring his bottles, trying to get him to drink as much as he can, even though I know it's not enough. I can only hope that at his weigh in next week that he'll have gained at least 4oz, the minimum that a normal baby would gain in a week's time. I think he is lip-tied, though this has not been confirmed with the doctor yet, and that it's making it harder for him to latch onto the bottle to eat properly. 

I guess the saying really is true, be careful what you wish for because you may end up getting just that.

John at 8 weeks old

Mason at 8 weeks old