I apoligize if the story gets a little dry here. But, when I was going through all of this, I was dying to hear other mom’s stories of tongue-tied babies. So that’s why this chapter is here. Start the story here, Lactation Stories: Razorblades Arrives.
So I decided I wanted to have Elsa evaluated for a tongue-tie by someone who was not going to tell me that my toxic womb was the cause of all our problems. I called the guy (Cliff O’Callahan, M.D. in Middletown, CT) and requested an appointment, but they were booked for the next two weeks. I took what I could get, hung up the phone, and sobbed that we would have to wait so long – two weeks was an eternity with my little, squealing Razorblade. So we waited. And we nursed. And it hurt. We had reached a sort of status quo that I could only tolerate knowing that there was a possible solution on the horizon.
We got to Dr. O’Callahan’s office and he and a medical student evaluated Elsa while she was nursing, exclaiming that she actually had a great latch. “Ha!” I wanted to say to all those LC’s who had repeatedly chanted the mantra of, “If you have pain, there is a problem with the latch.” He was probably the nicest, most compassionate doctor I have ever met – a great listener (which is, sadly, SO rare in medicine), very observant, and thoughtful. He interviewed me about our problems and then examined inside Elsa’s mouth. He clearly explained the anatomy and physiology of nursing and demonstrated why a baby with a tongue-tie may have problems nursing. Briefly, a tongue-tie occurs when the little piece of skin (the frenulum) below your tongue tethers your tongue to the bottom of your mouth too tightly, affecting the tongue’s mobility. For a more detailed explanation, try this website. He also explained that Elsa’s tongue-tie was posterior (in the back) and not very visibly obvious. In fact, in another baby, it might not have caused any problems at all. The only real diagnostic criteria he could use was that, after excluding all other possibile causes, I was still in pain. There were a few other clues, including: Elsa’s frustration at the breast, angry wrestling matches with my nipples and my mastitis and recurrent plugged ducts (damn you crazy LC for being right!).
He offered to do the procedure, but told me that it was entirely my decision. He also explained that he is a salaried faculty member at the hospital and does not earn any extra money by doing the clipping procedure. I really appreciated this bit of information, because so many doctors get paid per procedure – thus giving them a financial incentive to do more procedures. I had sort of hoped he would say, “Oh yes – she has an obvious tongue-tie and must have this procedure done immediately.” Instead he said, “From what you have told me, it seems she probably has a tongue-tie. Now you must decide if we are going to do this procedure.”
I cried (yes, more crying). I told him that I felt guilty subjecting her to a painful procedure just because I was in pain. He explained that breastfeeding was the absolute best thing I can do for her and, if I am in persistent pain, I will probably end up weaning her prematurely. The tongue clipping was, in fact, the best thing for her because it would increase the amount of time that we breastfeed and, on top of that, would give her a happier mom. He insisted that I not feel guilty and told me that he would give me as much time as I needed to decide, whether it be minutes or days.
Oh Moooom. Please don't cut my tongue! I promise to put my razorblades away.
Knowing that I really couldn’t continue with the current situation, I asked him to do the procedure. The whole thing was so benign – I wish I hadn’t allowed myself to wait as long as I did. He brought us into the procedure room and had me hold her while she sucked a sugar solution off my finger (which made her seem a little drunk). He set up a sterile tray of instruments:
The two instruments used for the procedure
Then he swaddled Elsa in a blanket, which actually seemed to be the part she hated the most. He encourage me to stay in the room and I held her legs, which she was trying to flail out of her restraints. He opened her mouth with the bottom instrument from the picture above and slid her frenulum into the little slit in the instrument. He took the scissors and quickly snipped the skin. In an instant, he was already holding her upright in his arms and cooing to her while he held a little piece of gauze under her tongue. The moment he was holding her, she stopped crying and, within a minute, he took the piece of gauze away and showed me that there were only two small drops of blood. Start to finish, the whole thing took about 5 minutes. He handed her back to me and encouraged me to nurse her as soon as possible, which I did immediately once we got back to the exam room.
Heeeey! That wasn't so bad! And my tongue is so loose now - Look!
The doctor gave me me some post-procedure instructions and told me to email or call within a week to let him know the outcome. For a few days after the procedure, I swiped a clean finger under her tongue after every nursing, to help prevent scar tissue from forming. I would love to say that nursing improved immediately with that first nursing, but it didn’t. However, within 24 hours, my pain was down from an 8/10 to a 5/10. Within a week, I was down to a 2/10 – which was wonderous.
The incredible part of the story is: I went back to the Mother’s Group again! I was desperate for company and thought, perhaps, I could learn to like these women. The LC was there and briefly celebrated that Elsa had had her tongue clipped. Then, she observed another nursing session and gravely pronounced, “My God! She needs her tongue clipped again! She is still not emptying your breast! Did he clip her upper lip as well!? NO!? Well, if I had gone with you, I would have insisted he clip her upper lip as well. You MUST call him today and schedule another clipping.”
Seriously? No “Good job!”? No, “Finally, your troubles are over!”? Just and endless life of tongue clippings? It was baffling how intensely she preached an all-natural, chemical-free, raw foods only lifestyle while at the same time, she was totally obsessed with this invasive medical procedure. The only explanation was that she believes tongue-ties are a result of our toxic wombs – thus justifying the medical intervention necessary for returning us to our frenulum-free, natural state. I could literally go on for days about this woman and her many contradictions and the offensiveness of her self-righteousness.
In any event, I politely sat through the rest of the meeting, listening to how every woman in the group was transitioning to an entirely raw foods diet. The one woman who had been cautiously reapproaching tree nuts had come to her senses and was now avoiding all nuts AND watermelon. Another woman was increasing her babywearing time to 15 hours a day so that she could experience more connectedness with little Diwali Rain-Feather. I left furious and vowing never to return – and I didn’t. I was, however, added to their email listserv before I went to my last meeting. The women email daily about the most incredible self-righteous nonsense you could possibly imagine and it provides me with endless hours of entertainment.
My whole experience breastfeeding has inspired me to become a lactation consultant – something I will probably write about in the future as it becomes more of a reality. Today, I’m very happy to say that breastfeeding is a breeze. It’s not perfect (maybe she did need another clipping afterall . . . oy.) and her little tongue still feels a little like sandpaper occassionally. But we have gotten to a wonderful place where I love breastfeeding her and will be able to do it as long as we both want. She is healthy, happy, and huge (19lbs at 6 months).
So that is my Epic Lactation Story. I’ll just close with one of my most favorite things in the world: “Breastfeeding in the Land of Ghenghis Khan”
