The worry is primal and comes gushing out of me in the form of wails and uncontrollable tears, which must be very confusing for Boof, who has seen me cry only a handful of times in our relationship.

But when your baby can’t take the breast without the aid of a silicon nipple, and the Dr says that his weight gain is a little on the low side, and the Lactation consultant refers you to an occupational therapist at Children’s Hospital because of his tongue thrust, the helplessness and overwhelm sets in and all I can do is cry. I stare down at this sweet cherub that I didn’t know I could love so much, and cry, because I feel so small and inadequate at this whole mom thing. 

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