As many of you know, I had a lot of trouble trying to breastfeed Cordy. She was given a bottle in the hospital because of low blood sugar, and after that she was never interested in the breast when she could have a bottle that required far less effort. That’s my girl – doing only the minimum to get by. I pumped and made her try feeding at the breast each time, but she got less than half of her early nutrition from me. By four months I had given up entirely.

Mira has been far more interested. She was a breastfeeding pro from her first hour in the world. It took us over a month and buying one of every bottle made to convince her to take a bottle of pumped milk occasionally. Hitting the six month mark for breastfeeding was a huge accomplishment for me.

Then in December, Cordy was kind enough to bring home from school a gastrointestinal virus with her art projects and letter tracings. I had nothing to eat or drink for nearly two days, resulting in a decrease in milk. Afterwards, I drank lots of water and thought that my milk supply would bounce back without any problem.

Mira started to get really fussy in December. OK, she’s always been fussy and cranky, but it seemed like December was even worse than normal. I chalked it up to teething as she was putting her hands in her mouth and crying all. the. time. She woke up twice a night on average, and her naps were short and restless. I’d give her Motrin on the really bad nights and put her back to sleep fussy. She would often have to cry it out, since otherwise neither of us would sleep at all.

My mother said to me over and over, “You need to feed her more! I think she’s fussy because she’s hungry.” But I breastfed on demand and gave her three or more jars of solid foods a day. She had to be full!

Turns out my mom knows my child better than me.

I checked her weight about a week ago, and was surprised to learn she weighed exactly the same as she weighed at her six month check up. In a month and a half, she gained nothing. How? I’ve been breastfeeding around the clock, and the daylight hours are filled with spoonfuls of yogurt, oatmeal, and pureed fruits and veggies.

“Give her one bottle of formula and see how she does,” my mom urged. I didn’t want to. I was proud of breastfeeding this long – I could produce what she needed to grow! Only she doesn’t seem to be growing now, so I reluctantly agreed to give it a try.

Mira went to sleep without any crying after that bottle and slept through the night for the first time ever.

I tried it again right before a nap: she slept three hours for that nap and woke up happy. A bottle at bedtime again resulted in another undisturbed night.

Turns out, I was starving my child. I feel like shit just typing that out.

No wonder she’s been crying so much lately. She was hungry and I totally misread the cues. It wasn’t teething, it wasn’t reflux, and it wasn’t a result of her being a crabby baby. She cried and fussed from hunger. She slept poorly because her growling stomach was waking her. And she cried herself to sleep at night because she wanted to eat, not go to sleep.

The one problem with breastfeeding is that it’s hard to tell how much milk is actually being produced. It’s not like we have ounce markers on our breasts. I thought I was still producing plenty, but a quick pumping session revealed that my supply is a lot less than it used to be. It’s no wonder she wasn’t gaining any weight.

I feel so dumb for not figuring this out sooner and putting my infant through a month and a half of hunger as a result. Shouldn’t I have had some kind of motherly instinct to guide me to this solution? My mom figured it out before me, and she hasn’t had a baby in 31 years.

Mira is still breastfeeding, but I’m now adding in two bottles a day to satisfy her hunger. She’s already sleeping better at night and taking longer naps. She’s happier during the day, too – smiling, playing, content. I’m thrilled to see her in a better mood, but part of me still feels like I’ve failed. It’s crazy – my logical brain says this is no big deal, formula isn’t poison and you raised your first on it with no problems, but my big, mushy, emotional heart hates to concede that I can’t make enough milk to feed my child properly. I would have been less upset had Mira simply decided to wean early.

I need to remind myself of my own philosophy that I’ve shared with others so many times: do whatever works. I’ve never been someone who stuck to rigid parenting rules, instead choosing to believe that if it’s working and no one is getting hurt, it’s all good. In this case, formula and breastmilk together work for Mira, and that’s what needs to be done.

Still…I feel incompetent.