Why I'm Probably Going to Be Breast-Feeding a Teenager

June 14, 2007. It is the day that I broke my precious baby girl. My shoe caught in a sidewalk crack and I fell forward onto a set of concrete steps while holding my then eight-month-old daughter. I heard a loud crack and instantly assumed I had fractured her skull. She began screaming and blood was pouring from her mouth. An ambulance ride took us to the emergency room and a CT Scan an hour later showed her jaw broken in two places. We were sent home with instructions not to breast-feed or give her a bottle or sippy cup. Spoon feeding only. She wasn't allowed to cry, laugh, or move around for fear of dislocating the fractures. She had no teeth so wiring her mouth shut would have been an extremely invasive and seldom tried option. Since she was so young the hope was in her ability to heal quickly.

The next four weeks passed in a blur. Annie was very unhappy when she was denied the breast. I spent long hours at night carrying her around, playing pat-a-cake or singing until she finally gave up and slept for an hour if it was a good night. She would invariably wake up screaming and the whole nighttime routine of walking and singing began again. I also had to squeeze in time for my other four children, cooking, pumping milk to spoon feed to Annie and pretending my house wasn't really the disaster area I was seeing. I'm sure I only slept a total of three hours during that month.

Annie healed. Babies have a remarkable ability to do so. Five and a half weeks after the accident, we were given the OK to resume breast-feeding. I was sure Annie would want nothing to do with it but instead she nursed as instinctively as she breathed including while she slept. Any attempt by me to break her latch and lay her down resulted in a full fledged temper tantrum. I was carrying an enormous guilt complex so I let her nurse at will.