From the moment she graced this world with her presence I knew she was different. Her beautiful tiny features, so frail and yet so solid, stood out to me. Her arms did the typical new baby flail when she was startled. Her face winced when they poked her for the mandatory heel stick. She nursed and ate with this perfect little latch that said “I know what I am doing.” and yet, something was different than my two previous children.
I knew that we would both be tired, so I did not fuss when she wouldn’t eat after that first feeding. I had problems with anemia and the induction and blood loss took much out of me. The exhaustion could also have been contributed to the fact that I was in labor with her the entire day and into the evening before we decided it was time to finish with a huge push. Needing sleep sounded like it was the right course of action to me.
Then it struck me, she had not eaten in several hours. The nurses assured me that I might not be doing the “holds” correctly, or that the baby was tired. She was born a wonderful 7 lbs and 2 oz. Apgar had been perfect and she did latch wonderfully right after birth. They said we were awesome.
The next morning I decided to call for some back up. The baby had not eaten since that first feed and she was coming up on her 24th hour, this was not normal. She WANTED to eat, and I KNEW I had milk, there was something wrong. The LLL staff came in and asked me what kinds of holds I had tried. Here I was, a third time mother, and I had no idea that holding a baby could be so tricky! We went over the football hold, and finally she ate. I had figured she was finally so hungry she just didn’t really care HOW she was being fed, she just wanted to eat!
We were released, without much fanfare. Normal delivery tends to get a normal discharge from a hospital. Bags and coupons and advice and diapers and baby and me… The ride home was uneventful, as long as you call sitting on a swollen bottom and being bumped along on horrible streets that need repaving. ;)
Then it started. The baby would not eat. Long stretches of time would go by and we could not figure out what the problem was. Finally I figured it was the fact that I was touching her. She didn’t want me to actually physically be in contact with her while she ate. We fought for a week before we figured this out and so for three weeks after I ended up struggling to meet her needs. Leaning over her, on all fours, with only by breast in her face, making sure to not touch her, she ate. It was not fun for her, nor for me.
We switched to the bottle and she would allow us to have her in our lap, or resting on top of our crooked arms and eat. This seemed like I could bond with her better. I could look at her and she could look at me. I could touch her and she could see me while I was touching her. Old habits with my first two would cause her to stop feeding and not want to start up for a few hours. All I wanted to do was play with her tiny baby feet while she ate.
As we learned, through much trial and error, it was the physical sensation, and the auditory stimulation, and visual stimulation that would cause her to stop eating. Eventually we had to switch her to an infant seat with the bottle propped. Weeks dragged on and we would carry her on a pillow instead of holding her body, and only feed her in a dark room, alone, with the bottle propped and me peering in at her silently. As long as she ate the entire bottle, I would have installed cameras and stood outside.
We were being harassed from the doctors, and from WIC because she was born a good healthy weight and this good size baby slowly dwindled. She was diagnosed as failure to thrive and I know that everyone was looking to me, asking if I was feeding her enough. Was I tending to her baby needs or was I letting her go by the way side because I had a 5 and 6 yr old that was taking up too much of my time?I tried to explain that she was different, no one seemed to believe me.
It wasn’t until many years later that I realized, I did right by her. My first born daughter was diagnosed with Sensory Integration Disorder after I had come across the book The Out Of Sync Child. My pediatrician had no clue as to what I was talking about, but my insistance paid off and he sent me to a specialist. Several specialists and several neurologist and psychologist visits later we had an official answer.
My daughter kept me on my toes and because I listened to her, and not just pushed things by the way side, we have worked with her into becoming an integrated member of society. She still has challenging days, but I am very proud to say she has come so far from that small harsh start. My DD that has Sensory Integration Disorder is going to be turning 9 years old and I couldn’t imagine my life if I hadn’t been blessed with her wisdom.
