When people ask me how my newborn son of nine weeks is, I really don't know how to answer. Without having any other children, do I really know good from bad from ugly?
What I do know is, he is pretty happy most of the time. He cries 90% of the time because he is hungry, 5% because he wants to fart or poop and 5% because he thinks he is getting hungry. With that said, 95% of his unhappiness can quickly be soothed with some milk. His bedtime is at 10 PM and he usually wakes up to eat at 3 AM and 6 AM (though this only started two weeks ago) so overall, no real complaints.
Except... well, there is one thing.
You see... my son, well ... errr he's kinda sorta a boob guy. He absolutely loves eating and he loves getting his food - breakfast, lunch, linner, dinner, afternoon snack - all from mommy!
So of course the only real frustration so far has been his refusal to take a bottle (I am constantly amused at this given the lactation Nazi consultants who always instill fear in you about what if you give him the bottle and he refuses the breastmilk? but somehow, nobody ever talks about the what if he won't take the bottle? situation) It almost feels like this situation is taboo and that is why nobody ever warns you about it, just like hemorrhoids after birth (I know, nobody told me either but you push for hours upon hours so it only makes sense...)
We have now been through five different bottles (Avent, Playtex, Playtex flow with the bags, Medela, Tommy Tippy), six different nipples, attempts while he's not so hungry, starving, or somewhere in between, and along the way, I have lost count of all the different ways we have attempted to coax him into taking a bottle. I have researched it in depth (google counts..) and I know they can smell their mommies 20 feet away so I have to be out of the house, I know I can't be the person with the bottle because it'll confuse him and I know I am definitely NOT alone. Countless other women have dealt with the same issue today, yesterday and tomorrow.
Hopeless. Dejected. Rejected. Wanted. Needed. Trapped. Loved.
These are just some of the emotions I go through, and after a while, it's really not so bad. This may be the one time in my life Jordan needs and wants me more than anyone else (take that future wifey of my son!)
Gag. Puke. Grimace. Cry. Stare.
These are the motions Jordan goes through when we give him the bottle. And as of late - biting down on the nipple and staring at us until bottle is removed is his thing. At least he's smart, that much I'll give him credit for. I guess there's no way around it - my baby is definitely a boob guy. Typical male.
Fortunate for us, the power of prayer is really helping me stay calm and I know without a doubt that progress is on its way. In just a mere two days, my sincere prayers feel like they've been answered despite Jordan puking up one day and not taking more than .5 oz the next day. That's how I know prayer works... when there's not much improvement yet I feel good about it, like I can deal with it and it's not going to bring me down. And in a few weeks, I'm hoping that means he will take the bottle and I can be apart from Jordan for more than two hours at a time. Only time will tell.