At her six-week appointment, my pediatrician announced that my daughter wasn’t eating enough. My lower lip trembled while I tried to muster any strength I had in my exhausted state. The pediatrician droned on and pointed to a growth chart. Below the natural curve and lines was a lone dot showing where my rainbow baby was on the weight chart. The pediatrician began to use phrases like “failure to thrive.” He pulled out a syringe and suggested I start using it to feed my daughter more. All I could do was shake my head as I tried to process his words.
Now that my daughter was having issues feeding, I really could have used a support system.
I didn’t understand. My daughter was constantly moving when awake, probably burning more calories than most babies. But she wasn’t crying for more food. Despite being skinny, I thought she was hitting all her other milestones. And yet, when I heard that she was “failing to thrive,” I couldn’t help but feel like I was failing as a mom. I was a first-time mom in a basically new town, having moved to Erie, Colorado, from California about halfway through my pregnancy. If I took out a personal ad, “loneliness in motherhood” would have been a catchy but honest tagline. And now that my daughter was having issues feeding, I really could have used a support system.
Despite giving birth a week past my due date, my milk never fully came in. The hospital provided donated milk in the meantime, yet no amount of pumping, mother’s milk tea, or lactation cookies seemed to help my production levels. On top of low production, my daughter took a long time to feed, often having trouble staying attached to my breasts.
Just as I’d created a birth plan with my OB, I had created a health plan for my daughter’s first year of life that I had shared with her pediatrician. I had my heart set on breastfeeding my daughter for her first year for the health benefits. This was something we discussed at the first appointment and subsequent meetings. But at this six-week appointment, the pediatrician just suggested that maybe it was time to begin formula. He didn’t mention the option of seeing a lactation consultant.
When I arrived at my first group meeting, it felt like a lifesaver. I saw a room full of women navigating parenthood and breastfeeding with the same concerns, worries, and hardships as me.
I felt deflated leaving the pediatrician’s office. But as I was leaving the hospital building, a flyer on the wall caught my attention: Breastfeeding Moms Group. Connect with other mothers and get advice from lactation professionals. Free and no pre-registration required. I knew vaguely about lactation consultants from breastfeeding and childbirth classes I’d taken in preparation for my daughter’s arrival. The instructor had reminded us of the additional resources out there to support our breastfeeding journey, including lactation consultants, noting that they can often be the link in helping mothers be successful with breastfeeding their children. I was optimistic that they could be my missing link. I took out my phone and snapped a quick picture of the flyer. This group sounded like something I needed.
When I arrived at my first group meeting, it felt like a lifesaver. I saw a room full of women navigating parenthood and breastfeeding with the same concerns, worries, and hardships as me. The breastfeeding moms group met every Tuesday for one hour in the morning or afternoon at a local hospital. The meetup was free for attendees, provided by the nonprofit Family and Education Support Services. The group was dedicated to bringing breastfeeding moms together to teach techniques, help moms and babies socialize, and help moms track baby feeding times and weight gain or loss. I remember taking a deep breath as I entered the room for the first time. I was nervous, but with this many moms in the room, I had a good feeling that I wasn’t the only one learning the new role of stay-at-home mom.
A few mothers were at the back of the conference room weighing their children, with a lactation specialist on hand. A folder helped them keep track of the weigh-ins from week to week.
Another specialist circled a small group of women, helping them position their babies for proper latching. She offered tips, made slight adjustments, and gave positive reinforcement. She pulled out a plastic nipple from her bag of tricks and began to explain to a mom how a nipple shield works.
Timidly, I walked over to the group, eager for this much-needed guidance. As I got situated in a chair, my daughter in hand, I unsnapped my breastfeeding tank. Another mom silently gave me support through a quick thumbs-up.
When the specialist came to me, she lifted my daughter a bit higher for better alignment. She watched as my daughter latched and unlatched often during the breastfeeding process. Luckily that day’s group was small, allowing her to give me a bit more focused attention than usual. A series of questions followed about whether my daughter’s behavior while breastfeeding was typical of what she was demonstrating during other breastfeeding sessions.
We didn’t have major trouble with positioning, so I could tell the lactation consultant was trying to dig deeper into the cause of my daughter’s breastfeeding struggles. After getting in a few ounces of milk, we both could see how exhausted my daughter was. I also mentioned my concern with production levels. She said that my daughter’s difficulties latching affected my milk production. With her years of experience, the lactation consultant noted that my daughter might have an overactive tongue, meaning that her tongue movements were causing her mouth to unlatch from the nipple while feeding. This was something a lactation consultant could not help with through one-on-one sessions, so she suggested I see an occupational therapist. I was grateful for the advice.
Some weeks at the group, different professionals presented on topics including baby chiropractic care and new mom self-care. Moms could also ask for advice and discuss success stories within the sharing circle. No topic was off-limits, and what was shared remained confidential. If there was anywhere a mom could feel comfortable sharing without judgment, this was the place.
For the first time since walking out of the hospital with my daughter, I didn’t feel alone in motherhood.
I decided to share the story of my interactions with my pediatrician. I couldn’t get the full story out before I felt a hand reaching out for mine. I could feel the support—20 or so moms telling me it was going to be OK. For the first time since walking out of the hospital with my daughter, I didn’t feel alone in motherhood. I felt welcome, and I felt like I had a support system. I left the group with a plethora of hugs and with the names of several new pediatricians.
I took the lactation consultant’s advice and began seeing an OT weekly to help my daughter strengthen her tongue muscles for more control of her oral motor movements. But even as I did that, I continued to attend the weekly breastfeeding group for support. I was so grateful for the attention the specialist was able to give me that first visit—something you would typically only get from a one-on-one session with a consultant. I appreciated the ability to weigh my daughter weekly, socialize with other moms, and be there to help other moms in their journey. As my daughter’s weight increased along with my production levels, I was able to celebrate with the consultants. My self-esteem grew with each victory.
Eventually my daughter gave up on breastfeeding, and I stopped attending the group when she was about six months old. Although I didn’t meet my mom tribe at this weekly meetup, this group gave me the courage to seek out other (and more local) mom groups, from baby story time at my local library to parent-and-baby classes at a nearby gym.
Nonetheless, I’m eternally grateful for having found that breastfeeding moms group. Motherhood can be isolating. With those ladies at my side, the ups and downs of parenting a newborn and infant went from a mountain to a molehill. Even if it was only for one hour a week for the first six months of my daughter’s life, this breastfeeding group was a lifeline.
And, I’m happy to report that my daughter is now closer to the 60th percentile for weight and is a happy, energetic, and amazing six-year-old!
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