I don't smell that great
am covered in stinky milk
good problem to have
The doctors here on the regular floor are obsessed with Ike-a-saurus getting fortified breastmilk. Because he was a preemie they want him to have extra calories. And, initially, instead of listening to me, they were filling his belly with formula-fortified expressed breastmilk, via gavage through his nose, all night long. They wanted me to give him bottles at night, even after I explained he is not so much a fan of bottles, even less a fan of the gnarly Neosure formula they're fortifying the ebm with, and even less of a fan of being woken up and force fed. So when he refused the bottles – like I knew he would, everyone freaked and put the tube back down his nose. Actually, I got to drop the tube, in case he has to come home with it.
Ever done that? Ever snaked a tube down your infant's nose and into his stomach? Not fun.
So last night I said no tube. I asked them to give me a chance to breastfeed at night like we do at home. They could measure his weight in the morning and see if there was any big deal. They said OK to the no tube, but they still wanted me to do the fortified bottles despite my protests.
Well, we tried. A kick ass nurse got us a bed to share, so that helped with the breastfeeding, but because of doctor's orders (so many different doctors with different orders here – ugh), the night nurse had to wake us up every two and a half hours so that I could try to get my sleeping infant to take a bottle of fortified milk. Milk that he hates even when awake and starving. That was fun. And – surprise – he lost a little bit of weight. Maybe because after being constantly woken up he was too tired to eat. Sigh.
I also tried a supplemental nursing system, which was hilarious and messy and worked fairly well – but I tested it with non-fortified pumped milk because I didn't want him to suddenly start associating the yucky milk with my boobs. That would cause a whole new world of terrible.
They are going to make us bring him home with the NG tube I think. And that makes me crazy. This whole milk fortifying thing doesn't even have anything to do with the trach, it's just because he was a preemie. We've been going through this since the NICU – where they gave him my hindmilk instead of fortified milk because he tolerated it better.He has always followed his own curve with his weight gain – a curve that has pleased his pediatrician and never caused a problem. I would also like to ntoe that even though he has lost negligible amounts of weight pver the past three nights, he still WEIGHS MORE than he did when he came to the hospital. So there's that.
I could go on and on ranting and raving about this, but the more worked up I get, the sillier I feel. This is a problem I want to have. This is a problem I would have climbed mountains for 22 days ago when he was sedated and paralyzed in the ICU, with an extremely critical airway and plummeting vital signs.
This is a good problem to have. It is a welcome problem. I still want to punch some people in the face, but that's OK. I think for the next, well, forever, I might have some short-tempered anger issues to go along with my PTSD and anxiety. I will worry about that all later. Right now I need to worry about filling a tiny belly with as much mommy milk as it can take. I also have to worry about making enough milk to do that. (The domperidone seems to be helping, by the way.)
Having well-meaning doctors turn every night into an Amazing Race eating challenge for Ike-a-saurus is my main worry, though. Gonna have to get them to stop that. Otherwise I might jump on the them, put a trach in their throats, force feed them Neosure and see how much THEY like it.