Supplementing the baby's diet?! No, I relied completely on breastfeeding
The fact is that it's not always sunshine and roses with kids
Like all other moms, I too hoped that a manual would somehow land on the doormat. Because Mae can be difficult at times too. For me, these insecurities started during my pregnancy and early in the feeding process. The trigger for insecurity often came from professionals who crossed our path and expressed their concerns. Especially in that delicate initial period with that small dependent being and a body full of hormones, there's a high chance that in such situations, you'll push your maternal instincts to the second, third, or maybe even tenth place.
My baby's size in my womb was often scrutinized because she might have a too small head or later too short legs. Now I know that my maternal instinct was already shouting back then: "Seriously? Have you seen my short legs and small head? And uh, my partner doesn't wear women's sunglasses for nothing!" (Shh... I didn't say that out loud!). But at that moment, it still makes you insecure and you start to doubt. They are the professionals and must know what they're doing. Imagine if there really was something wrong. Fortunately, it was my second pregnancy and after a few hospital visits with perfectly fine results, I knew to draw the line and stand by my maternal feelings.
Mae came into the world after a great delivery with a beautiful, perfect little body
A good weight and a nice small head. Big enough, I especially thought during the delivery! We started our breastfeeding journey with determination. That beautiful (really not too) small head in my arms searching for a nipple. The scent of mother's milk had reached her! There were moments of feeding, many, in various emotions. Sometimes painful or intense, but always full of motivation.
Until that visit to the child health clinic. You guessed it: Mae's head wasn't growing properly. "Growing properly with what?", I thought? Oh yes, with that curve of an average baby that I saw when I looked up from Mae who was smiling at me as if she thought it was all a big joke. To top it all off, the lady from the clinic also thought her weight fluctuated too much. Are you still exclusively breastfeeding, the woman behind the desk asked. With what I considered an unnecessary emphasis on "exclusively". "Absolutely", I replied. This time deliberately putting too much emphasis on "absolutely". This answer was followed by the advice to come in every week for weighing and measuring. "Let's get a clearer picture of her weight and make the line more concrete", was the thought of the attending lady. If it didn't steadily increase, then I would have to start supplementing. PERIOD. There, she said it. Supplementing. It hit me as if she said it through a megaphone, but it was also gone immediately. For a while. She didn't ask me anything else. Not about the way of feeding, how Mae was developing, how often she urinated or had bowel movements... Nothing at all! This was the advice, based on a big question mark for me, and that was that. Mae was still smiling from ear to ear. We walked together towards the changing table. Her innocent look and the little arm she had wrapped around my neck at that moment gave me fear. If only she knew what had just been discussed. If only she knew that our lovely breastfeeding moments were at risk. But on the other hand, her look also made me realize that I needed to let this conversation sink in. I dressed her, took her outside, and put her on the bike. We cycled along the water. It was full of boats at that time and I felt the fresh wind through our hair. My happy girl in front. Just when my thoughts were no longer shooting in all directions, I suddenly felt a huge resistance. Initially to the weekly weighing, to the words "steady increase", but especially to the thought of supplementing! Don't get me wrong: I am absolutely not against formula feeding. But I felt in everything within me that things were going well with Mae, with me, and with this way of feeding. She was getting exactly what nature intended for her. Together we ensured that every day and night. Secretly, she was already tasting the different flavors that food contains. A more watery form when it was hot. A fatty form when (threatened with) illness, full of antibodies. She was active, cheerful, urinated and defecated really enough, was alert and eager to learn, and rarely not completely fit, let alone really sick. Yet I decided to drive to the clinic every week for a month, to weigh Mae and have her head measured. I even listened attentively to the advice. I really listened, I absorbed them, and I even tried to understand them. Yet I simply couldn't do anything with them. My mother's instinct was stronger! Thank God. Because look at her now. My girl is stronger, bigger, happier, and healthier than ever. Of all the flavors she tastes, she knows exactly what she likes and what she doesn't. Tomorrow that might change again, it's precisely that journey of discovery she undergoes like no other. The best part of all? The way she enjoys food makes others enjoy her, and that's worth its weight in gold!
DIMITRA
