Sophie has been going through stretches of symptoms that I have chalked up to teething. And, finally, after nearly two months of these bouts, a tooth did begin poking through the skin about four days ago.
In addition, she is in the everything-is-more-interesting-to-me-than-eating phase. Any sound, especially that of her brother, has her whipping her head around to investigate. I try to feed her right after she wakes, in the relative quiet of her room, but even that has only been sporadically successful.
So there was a trend. But nothing prepared me for last Wednesday. After her morning feeding she literally would not eat at the breast for the rest of the day. Sure, she had quite a large breakfast of rice cereal, bananas, and sweet potatoes. She does this sometimes: eats a lot of solids and then doesn’t breastfeed for anywhere from four to six hours. It always puts me into a panic, mostly because Eli never went more than three hours between feedings.
This was different. Every time I thought she was hungry and attempted to feed her, she would turn her head away, arch her back, and scream bloody murder.
It’s hard not to take this personally.
After eight hours with no feeding at the breast I had to pump. An hour later, immediately after waking from her nap, I got her to eat for maybe three minutes. It wasn’t much, but I felt immense relief. Then the rest of the day: nothing.
At dinner I had Vinny give her a bottle of expressed breast milk. She wolfed it down. This was maybe the fifth or sixth bottle we’ve ever given her. I was happy she still wanted my milk, but wounded that she didn’t seem to want me.
Were I not so ding-dang sleep deprived perhaps this wouldn’t be so difficult. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
That night I didn’t fare much better. There was screaming, but I did get her to eventually eat both times she woke up. Once morning arrived she was back on the no-eating-train. My confidence was shot, I was so tired, and every attempt to feed her resulted in: her not eating, me in tears.
After getting everyone to bed that evening I decided it was time to put Google to use. A simple search for “refusing the breast at 5 months” brought link upon link of people writing on this very topic. Well. I had a place to start.
It only took a couple minutes of surfing before it became apparent that Sophie is on a “nursing strike.” Excuse me? They can do that?
This discovery was met first with intense relief (okay, I’m not the only one this has ever happened to … why does it make me feel so good when I know someone else has shared my struggle?), and then a general sense of annoyance.
What is a nursing strike? Exactly what it sounds like. A babe refusing to nurse. The reasons this may happen are numerous (teething, ear infection, cold, slow letdown, change in mom’s diet, hormones, etc.), but even more exasperating is the fact that quite often, there is no reason.
Worst of all, though there are a couple “pointers” given (most of these are common sense type things you’re probably already trying), you’re simply supposed to ride it out in relative calm as to not upset your babe or your milk supply. Huh.
I did take Sophie to the pediatrician to rule out an ear infection. Eli’s never had one, and from my understanding sometimes babes don’t do anything that would indicate they even have one.
She was quickly determined to not have an ear infection (although she had the beginnings of a small cold). I pressed the doctor (not our regular): How long of her not eating before I should be really concerned? I then told him I was already really concerned.
He dismissed my fears: “She won’t intentionally dehydrate herself. You know, she’s eating solids, she’s distracted, she’s just going to eat less. Weigh her once in awhile and make sure she’s gaining.”
I stared at him, waiting. Yes, I wanted to scream, but what can I DO in the meantime? How can I tempt her back into eating? How can I keep my sanity? My confidence? My cool? What if I’m not pumping enough to maintain my milk supply (so easy to forget to pump with the thousand other things going on each day)? What if…?
Sigh. Why do our minds so quickly turn into a whirlwind of doubt, anxiety, panic? It escalates, so quickly, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it (see: sleep deprivation).
We are now on day five of the nursing strike. Some days are better than others. Some days I can actually get her to nurse four or five times. Other days it’s three times, tops. In the meantime, I am loading up her rice cereal with as much moo as I can, and manage to squeeze an extra four to five ounces into her that way.
And I have to say, for all the irritation and hurt feelings this is causing me, she’s her usual self (well, other than when I try to get her to eat and she doesn’t want to). She doesn’t seem to be plotting against me, she certainly isn’t starving, she still smiles at me all the time.
I guess she still likes me.
Each time I attempt to feed her, I silently wish that the strike has passed, that we can both get back to the good work of giving and receiving, nourishing, bonding without speedbumps. So far, no go. I try to keep a positive attitude and hold the worries at bay. As is so often true, this is easier said than done.
