Playing the Weighting Game


When I look back at being a first time Mum, and a second time Mum, I think that I was probably, quite relaxed about things. Not about everything, and not to say that I didn’t worry constantly about this life that I had responsibility for, but there were some things that I didn’t worry about. Either time.

For instance, I didn’t get my son weighed after the first couple of months, and I didn’t get my daughter weighed after the first month. I knew they were putting on weight and were healthy, so I just got on with things. I imagined I would be the same this time.

Which is why I find it so strange to be constantly worrying about our new baby’s weight.  To be, eleven weeks into this new life, still tracking his weight weekly.  I would never have imagined we would be doing that.  But we are. And with good cause.

His weight gain is still so tentative.  He makes huge gains one week and then drops the next. Or make good gains one next and then gains a little, but not enough to keep up the growth curve. Which is where we are now.

When I last had him weighed, he had gained 2 oz. But that wasn’t great news. He’s still on formula supplements and he’s on them to make sure he gains sufficient weight each week. So when he doesn’t, it feels like a slap in the face. It feels like all the effort I’ve made to keep up breastfeeding has been for nothing. It hurts.

So thank goodness for my HV, who chatted with me, gauged how I was feeling, helped me put a plan in place. And, when I suggested that plan should be to give in and switch to formula completely, told me off, and told me we hadn’t come this far to give up now. Not that she was bullying, but because she knows me. She was my HV for each of the other two, and she knows how important breastfeeding is to me. So she knew that when I said I might just give up, I was being petulant, and she knew I just needed a bit of a rant,and then a little kick up the bum to put a proper plan in place.

But still. I’m sick of this game. I’m sick of worrying like this. It shouldn’t be this hard.  And I can’t help but think it wouldn’t have been this hard if the NHS had enough people trained to notice and treat posterior tongue tie. Without that issue, we would have been breastfeeding properly from the start. With that issue, we had problems that do not have a quick fix. No-one in our County is trained to release posterior tongue tie. I think we were lucky that there was someone we had access to who recognised it.  It shouldn’t be that way, and I want to do something about it. I don’t know what yet, but watch this space.

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2 comments on “Playing the Weighting Game

  1. When I was pregnant with Olive we were monitored the whole pregnancy and she defied the odds to not only go full term but be 2 weeks late due to umbilical cord and placenta issues! I was desperate for her to be born but knew that the added time inside would be so beneficial to her weight. We knew for definite she had IUGR and thus would be small but we didn’t know what other problems she would have. Luckily she is fine other than the IUGR. When she was born a combination of the speedy delivery and IUGR caused her to go into shock from low sugar levels and she was taken away to give fluids. Combined with being 5lbs, so under the 5lbs 3 required to go home and the sugar low we were admitted onto the ward – full of prem babies. When we finally received her back I was shocked to find a feeding tube in her nose. They had ask if they could feed her but I hadn’t expected that. In the early days she lost weight and was eventually 4lbs 5oz until I managed to persuade a midwife that the feeding issues were being caused by them feeding Olive through a tube every time I tried to feed her she was full or didn’t know what to do as for her food was poured down her throat. She said I could have 24 hours to feed her myself no formula no tube and see what happened. OMG the relief when she put on 1oz in that 24 hours was immense and we were told we could go home!

    But like you I have spent the last nearly 2 years constantly battling with midwifes/health visitors/consultants and most of all myself!! Weekly weighins are a nightmare and a great way to make you feel crap. Olive is now 22mths she is on the 9th percentile for weight and when they make comment about this I now say “that’s ace she was born on the 1st and for the 1st year was only on the 2nd – 9th is fab 🙂 ” then I go home and bawl my eyes out! For the past year Olive has had “toddler diarrhoea” – no diets or tests have been able to sort this and I’d got to the point where I was exhausted.

    We were in Asda a few weeks back with my mum and Olive was running up the aisle – an old lady said wow she gets around well – how old is she? Mum said nearly 2 and she looked at mum and said (a total stranger remember) Oh what’s wrong with her. Mum picked her up and walked off. There’s nothing wrong with Olive – unless being tiny and wearing 6-9mths old clothing at 2 is considered a disability .. then more-fool society.

    Sorry for my rant … but I know how you feel when all you want is for your child to gain weight and they don’t – Olive used to go weeks and gain 1 oz. I could “see” she was making healthy development – sometimes we get too caught up on averages and forget about individuality. I hope that you and Sid can come to a happy medium where you both start to enjoy each other instead of fretting. I feed Olive until she was 1 but there were many points where I felt I couldn’t take the pressure – especially as I felt like I couldn’t grow her properly inside and now I couldn’t do it outside. But I stopped feeding Megan at 4 months and she and I have a lovely relationship and she’s super healthy (and only on the 9th percentile)

    Be happy lovely 🙂 here if you want to chat xxx
    Joanne recently posted..Can ANYONE be a writer?My Profile

    • Thanks for your comments Joanne. I need to remember, he will be OK – he is OK, but it is frustrating. I’m getting to the point where I can almost forget about it except on weighing days, and now he’s got to the stage where he grins like mad and gurgles and kicks and flails his arms about, which of course, makes it very easy to enjoy him.

      Didn’t help that the other day, at the supermarket checkout, the cashier peered into the sling to look at him, asked how old he is and said “ooh, he’s a tiny one for 12 weeks isn’t he?” Grrrrr.

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