I remember saying “why us?”

I remember sitting in that waiting room thinking, “Why us? Why him?”

Why was my 10-week-old baby being taken into surgery when all I wanted was to hold him through it… or maybe I just needed someone to hold me.

I’d had two healthy, thriving babies before my son. Then came this little boy who struggled to do one of the most basic things we’re born to do: breathe.

One ENT looked at him and said,

“Classic laryngomalacia. He’ll grow out of it by 24 months.”

Another walked in, 6 weeks later and within two minutes said he absolutely needed surgery.

Six more weeks passed between the first and second visit.
Three more before they could get him into the OR.
Nine weeks of watching every breath and wondering if we were missing something.

When I look back at the videos of Lochlan just minutes after he was lifted from my uterus, I can hear it now so clearly—the struggle.

The nurses kept suctioning him to “get it out,” but there was nothing there. He was blue from the waist down because he couldn’t oxygenate well. Special Care was called twice and both times said, “He’s fine.”

Eventually he pinked up, and everyone seemed relieved. He slept a lot, which is “normal” for newborns… except this was different. He had never breathed air through his nose before, and already it was a fight.

Five days after his birth, my mentor and IBCLC, Kira Kim, came over. She took one listen and immediately knew.

I had just assumed my sweet boy was a loud breather—his sister was, too, so it felt normal. Kira urged me to see an ENT. It didn’t fully land until his pediatrician said the same… and the look on her face told me this was more serious than I wanted to believe.

His breathing became both a conversation starter and a conversation stopper.

He sounded like a goose. Every. Single. Breath.

People would rush over thinking he was choking while I tried to laugh it off, even though inside I was absolutely terrified.

This is where my love for collaborative care was born.

We had:

• an IBCLC

• a pediatrician

• an ENT

• an infant chiropractor

• an occupational therapist

All trying to help this tiny human breathe and eat.

We had a plan for almost everything. Yet one day he breastfed 27 times. He’d latch, eat a few minutes, then pass out—he was using so much energy just to breathe that there was almost nothing left for feeding.

There were hospital admissions. Episodes of him turning blue. So many “watch and wait” moments.

Because of his condition, he actually breathed easier when he was on his belly. So we did something that terrified me: we had him sleep prone.

I was scared someone would “find out” and judge me or worse. But I also knew my baby needed to breathe. I listened to every breath. I barely slept.

The surgery ended up being one of the best decisions we ever made—and my only regret is not doing it sooner.

The change was immediate. He was quieter, yes, but more than that:

He finally had the energy to wake and eat.

Between weeks 8–10, he had been sleeping these long 6-hour stretches. I thought I had hit the newborn jackpot.
After surgery, he woke every 2.5–3 hours to nurse.

That’s when it hit me: he hadn’t been sleeping so long because he was an “easy baby.” He was too exhausted from working to breathe and eat to even wake up.

Cue the mom guilt.

Within 4 months, Lochlan went from the 40th percentile in weight to the 75th. His growth took off. I could finally exhale.

So why am I telling you this?

Because I want you to TRUST. YOUR. GUT.

I knew something was wrong, but I let that first ENT’s reassurance quiet my instincts.
If we had found our second ENT sooner, maybe our story would have looked a little different.

Today, Lochlan is 2 years and 10 months old. He’s still a loud breather, but right now it isn’t affecting his quality of life, so no additional surgery yet. That may change someday—and if it does, we’ll face it then.

If you take anything from our story, let it be this:

✨ Follow your intuition.
✨ Listen to that mom or dad voice that won’t quiet down.
✨ Get the second opinion. And the third, if you need it.
✨ Don’t apologize for advocating for your child.

You know your baby better than anyone else in the room.