Returning home from the hospital on Friday, our journey with Jelly Bean took a challenging turn. His labour had been unexpectedly swift, a story I’ll delve into another time, leaving him congested with mucus. Despite immediate skin-to-skin contact and my efforts to nurse, he seemed disinterested, spending most of his first day in a deep slumber. I persistently tried to rouse him for feedings but to no avail. He simply wouldn’t wake. Acknowledging our struggles, the midwives suggested hand expressing my milk to syringe feed him, an arduous but necessary task.
Our struggles continued at home. Jelly Bean remained lethargic, barely interested in feeding, and struggled to latch on. More worryingly, his skin began to develop a noticeable tan. By Sunday, the physical pain of breastfeeding became unbearable. I resorted to expressing my milk for bottle feeding, but this led to a new ordeal – Jelly Bean started projectile vomiting. Trusting my maternal instincts, which loudly insisted something was amiss, I attempted numerous calls to the hospital without success. Ultimately, my husband and I decided to take Jelly Bean to the hospital ourselves.
Upon our arrival, a midwife immediately recognized the seriousness of Jelly Bean’s condition and swiftly escorted us to transitional care. There, a paediatrician assessed him, voicing concerns about jaundice and dehydration, especially given his poor feeding. Plans were made to insert a feeding tube through his nose and a cannula in his arm for blood tests and potential medication. Watching the preparations was heart-wrenching. Jelly Bean, who always disliked being undressed, became inconsolably upset during the examination, crying until exhaustion overtook him. In a bittersweet twist, his fatigue meant he slept through the insertion of the cannula, only stirring with a faint squeak as the needle pierced his skin. As night fell, we braced ourselves for the long hours ahead, anxiously awaiting the results of his blood tests…
Can’t imagine how you were feeling. Tom had a canula at 10wks and I was in pieces. So good that you followed your instincts. x
It was horrible, you never want to see your children ill or hurting but when they are just a few days old it’s heartbreaking. You know that they need the treatment but it’s horrible to see someone putting a needle in such a tiny little hand. Regardless of how I felt though, we knew we had made the right decision to take him back to hospital xx
Sabina!!! That makes me want to cry 🙁 Poor little Jelly Bean. Cannulas are bloody horrible things and he’s soooooooooo tiny!!!! Give him a big cuddle for me! xxxx
I know, I did cry, LOTS! But I made it up to him with oh-so-many cuddles whilst we were in hospital. The Doctor who inserted his cannula was absolutely brilliant though, she was so gentle – thank goodness. Hopefully I will catch up with you soon so you can give him a cuddle yourself xxx
Awwww – you feel so helpless at times like that eh. But you did EXACTLY the right thing, because no matter what age your children are I’ve always said that your instinct is worth its weight in gold! xxx
I’m with you, I always go with my instincts and I’m so pleased that I did on this occasion xxx
Hello! Congratulations – lovely news about Jelly Bean How fantastic he is here. My little one had a canula too and you’ve seen him – healthy and happy as can be, so no worries on that score. It’s heartbreaking at the time, though, I know. Hope the feeding is going well – I found using vaseline a tremendous help – no matter what anyone else says – I fed both mine for over a year with no problems because of it . Hope all continues to go well X