Force-Feeding and a Feeding Tube

As I mentioned in the previous post, Emma has had a lot of problems with eating. She has had bottles. Zachary had three bottles in his whole life.

Emma has fought me with eating. A lot. I mean, literally kicking and screaming and batting at the bottles.

Force feeding a baby a bottle can make your own insides hurt with empathy.

We have had lots of help learning how to feed her. We have held her in different positions and we have held her bottle in different positions. We’ve seen our feeding therapist many times, and had our friend, Melanie Ray, help us many times. I never knew teaching a baby to eat was something I would have to do.

I have tracked the amount she has eaten for more than half of her life. The other half I probably “should,” but I’m sick of it. Tracking the milliliters consumed has not been difficult, but rather sad. Seeing “suggested” volumes for babies and comparing those volumes to what Emma has consumed has been depressing.

Emma finally got a feeding tube on August 12. That’s right, a feeding tube. It’s one that I can put in. I just shove it up her nose and down her throat. It makes her gag when I do it. I hate doing it too. I feel bad for her.

She’s had the feeding tube so long that I think she looks so different when she doesn’t have it taped to her face. It’s like a person who wears glasses and takes them off. You’re just used to seeing the person with that apparatus on their face.

Someone—I don’t remember which health care professional—told me that babies who usually have a feeding tube this long usually get one “installed” through their tummy. I honestly won’t be surprised if the doctor we see on Monday suggests that type of feeding tube. I think I’m ready for it.