the littlest carscadden: 7 months: Tiny Dancer

For me, the last few days have been the most stressful since Miles was born. I've screamed at the top of my lungs to release tension, I've sobbed like a little baby, I've become teary-eyed at work. Miles still isn't gaining weight appropriately, falling to the 3rd percentile at his 7 month check up earlier this week. Our pediatrician is concerned enough that we need to follow up next week for another weight check up. In addition, big changes have occurred.

For this week only, I can't breastfeed him.

That alone nearly floored me. Breastfeeding is the way I nurture this child, the way I connect to him, the way I get in my intense-baby-closeness time because I'm away from him all day at work. It hurts not to be able to breastfeed him to sleep.

There's a good reason we're not breastfeeding, though. We're trying to quantify how many ounces he takes in during the day. So that means I pump 24/7 this week, we add formula to all our bottles of breast milk and we track how much he's taking in (and also, how much I'm producing).

He's supposed to be taking in 32 ounces plus food. On the first full day of this plan, he took in 23 ounces. I produced 26 ounces. On the second day, he took in 28 ounces and I produced 24. So, at least it looks like (with this small sample size) he's taking in more each day as we push him to drink more from the bottle. But, it might mean that I'm making less, because pumping doesn't send the same happy-baby-cuddly feelings to my brain that breastfeeding does, so my brain releases less hormone that stimulates milk production, and my milk production falls. What a bummer.

I think the most awful, stressful and complicated matter here is that he just doesn't want to eat. Our kid is not interested in food or bottles or breastfeeding. He wants to play and explore and work on standing. He doesn't want to take time out to do any of that feeding stuff. It is the WORST feeling to know that our kid is too small and that we should be making a concerted effort to help him eat more and he just pushes away from us and cries when we try to feed him more. I'm not even talking large quantities here. I'm talking 3-4 ounces every 3-4 hours.

Let's take a step back and get some perspective. This is not cancer. This is not a mental delay or a gross abnormality in his other developmental milestones. This is not a major disease process of any kind. There are far worse things we could have to worry about.

And on that note, Miles is fucking fantastic otherwise. He's gregarious and active, he's sweet and thoughtful, he's silly and wonderful.

And he's learning to stand up: