In the wee hours of Monday night/Tuesday morning Jason and I nearly lost it. Ian had been crying for 3 hours straight and was beginning to go hoarse. We were so worried since he had not eaten in over a day. Sure, he'd gotten a few drops here and there but nothing substantial.
By 3am we were so weary. Sitting together on the bed with a beet-red Ian we looked at each other and I uttered that F word: "Formula?"
Luckily, we were in instant agreement. Until I could get some help with breastfeeding, we were going to do whatever it took to feed our little guy.
(I was also extrememly miserable since my milk had come in several hours earlier and I was so engorged I thought my breasts would explode. Milk was literally leaking out in teaspoonfuls and there was nothing I could do about it since Ian wasn't taking any of it. I even tried to suck up the puddles of milk with a dropper and feeding him that way, but all it did was give him gas!)
So at a desperate 3am Jason headed to 7-11 to get some formula and I head straight to the kitchen to boil bottles and nipples. Once the bottle was prepared, Jason gave it to Ian and instant success! Ian drank and drank and drank, then slipped into a blissful sleep. We were so relieved and all feelings of shame and fear that we did the wrong thing disappeared. Still, we were insistent on getting breastfeeding help, but first: Sleep!
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