A few days after this photo was taken, my 8-day-old daughter lay helpless in a paediatric medical crib, with long thin white tubes snaking into her tiny, perfectly formed mouth.
Eva was born by emergency caesarean section after a traumatic 52 hour labour. Weighing 9lbs 7oz, she fitted into her age 0-3 month baby grows perfectly – but with little room at the toes. By day eight she had dropped almost 20% of her body weight and was down to 8lb. A safe weight to drop to is considered to be 7-10% of body weight.
How had we got to this? The torment rocked through me as I questioned what I had done wrong? I had followed everything the midwives had told me to do. I was doing the best for her. Persevering with breast feeding and not offering her formula milk – because that would distort her tummy and make her less likely to want the breast milk.
They had said she was doing well only two days before. Seeing her then, her beautiful form laying so still and lifeless, eyes shut tight with not even enough energy to make a fuss made my heart ache with shock, guilt and hurt combined.
They told me that her salt levels were so low that they were surprised she had not started fitting. That that was the reason she was sleeping so much. She was preserving her energy. Desperately clinging to life whilst I, her own mother starved her of milk without even knowing it. They said that it was so lucky that I had made my way to the breast-feeding clinic that morning, and that the counsellor had spotted the signs of dehydration and hypoglycaemia. And now we were here, with nurses getting formula milk straight to her stomach with the intention of getting her to take milk from the bottle.
My little girl did not get enough milk from me – not because I was breast feeding wrongly, or because she wasn’t latching properly. But because my body was not physically making enough milk for her size and body weight. I had no idea this could even be a possibility. The NCT and antenatal group leads had persisted that breast was best and we needed to persevere, health visitors had failed to bring scales to weigh my baby in the vital days following her birth, and after being admitted and fed successfully, we were discharged. The help and support we had received was all practical and we were so grateful. But was it enough? No.
At no point was I asked ‘how are you?’. If I had been asked that, I think I would have fallen in a heap on the floor. But at least the pain and guilt would have been addressed instead of swallowed and internalised, and might not have haunted me all these years.
My daughter is sixteen now and I still take immense pleasure in seeing her eat. She loves her food and I am certain that it’s not just coincidence. In those instances that my mind wanders back to that Children’s Ward and the vision of white tubes reduces me to tears, I urge myself to remember what I absolutely know. And that is that I always do my best for her. She knows that too. I need to put the past to rest.
Far more support is needed in motherhood for mental and emotional wellbeing. We go through a dramatic shift in identity, and face challenge upon challenge as we protect and raise little people, whilst being encouraged to look outside of ourselves for the answers. Instead, we need to receive help and support to: be guided by our inner compass; maintain a healthy and fulfilling connection with ourselves; and strengthen that special bond with our baby.