Magic Words

I’m knocking on wood as I type this, but…Lucia has stopped screaming before breast-feeding. She is now eagerly latching on and nursing peacefully. By Friday of last week, Andrew and I were both exhausted and frustrated, and we were eagerly anticipating our appointment with our pediatrician. He didn’t have any solutions—I was hoping he’d say immediately it was reflux and give us some medicine in a dropper—and suggested a week of formula to gauge her reaction to that. I wasn’t about to do that, however (we’ve come so far with breast-feeding, and I feel strongly it’s the right thing for us), and I continued to explain what was happening. I told him I’d started trying to feed her every hour and a half to stave off any hunger-related hysteria. “Don’t do that,” he said immediately. “Just watch her. Let her eat only when she wants to.” He told me to stop waking her up to eat. It seemed like such obvious advice…

…and yet the magic words worked. Friday, I started watching the baby, not the clock, and only fed her when she gave clear signals of being hungry. Knock on wood—we have been great all weekend. Was it really so ridiculously simple? Was I really just letting my Italian mama side get out of control—“Eat something! Eat!”—and force-feeding my baby? Feed her when she’s hungry—it’s so obvious, and something I knew but somehow forgot in my frantic determination to feed the baby. I was trying to impose my will on her instead of letting her communicate to me what she needs. Indeed, perhaps she was communicating via her screams: I’M NOT HUNGRY. LEAVE ME ALONE, FOOD-PUSHING MOMMY. I WAS SLEEPING.

Every day, a new lesson. But who knows. I could post this, and she could start screaming again. For now, however, we’ve reached a feeding peace.