It’s twenty-four hours after my daughter was born and our hospital room is filled with balloons, stuffed animals and well wishers coming to see that yes, I had finally managed to reproduce. As Annie basks in her new mother glory a nurse comes in and pulls me aside.

ā€œIā€™m really worried about Natalie,ā€ she says.

ā€œWhy?ā€ I say, surprised.

ā€œShe hasnā€™t eaten for several hours.ā€

While itā€™s true Annie isnā€™t producing much milk and Natalie’s been falling asleep at the breast, the hospitalā€™s lactation consultant told us the baby could go without eating for at least sixteen hours before there was cause for concern. I tell the nurse this.

ā€œIā€™d still like to take her into the nursery and check her out.ā€

Natalieā€™s whisked away and twenty minutes later I walk over to the nursery to see whatā€™s happening.

ā€œHer blood sugar is 31,ā€ the nurse tells me. ā€œIf itā€™s 30 she has to go into the ICU.ā€ For the first time parental terror grips my heart.

ā€œSee how her lipā€™s trembling?ā€ she says. ā€œThatā€™s from low blood sugar. Sheā€™s also dehydrated.ā€

ā€œSo whatā€™s the plan?ā€

ā€œWeā€™ll give her formula,ā€ the nurse says. ā€œGet her sugar and fluid volume back up.ā€

I go back to Annieā€™s room and deliver the news. As you might expect she gets upset. After the visitors suddenly fall into an awkward silence I politely kick everyone out, even the grandparents.

After taking care of AnnieĀ I go back to the nursery. Natalieā€™s polished off a bottle and her sugar is up to 41. It’s supposed to be over 60. ā€œWeā€™re going to give her another bottle,ā€ the nurse says. ā€œWeā€™ll keep her here for observation.ā€

ā€œCan you tell me why you waited until a crisis point before you intervened?ā€ I say.

ā€œWe didnā€™t want to worry you,ā€ the nurse replies.

I tamp down my fury. ā€œMy wife and I are rational and fairly well-educated adults,ā€ I say. ā€œWhen it comes to our child we want to know whatā€™s happening. Feel free to worry us. Now, why did you wait until this point before you acted?ā€ I also want to know why the lactation consultantā€™s advice turned out to be medically unsound.

ā€œIn the old days,ā€ the nurse says, shrugging ā€œIf a baby didnā€™t eat for four hours we gave them formula. Now with the family friendly policy it’s different.ā€

Ah, the family friendly concept. The hospital’s slick brochures proudly trumpet how they encourage “skin to skin” contact, moms rooming with newborns and breastfeeding from minute one. But Iā€™ve worked in health-care on and off for years and can read between the lines. ā€œSo thereā€™s tension between administration encouraging breastfeeding and what the nurses think should be done?ā€ I say. The nurse nods.

ā€œSounds like your family friendly policy is marketing,ā€ I say. ā€œI donā€™t care about marketing. I care about facts. I trust a blood sugar monitor. I do not trust bullshit. You have my permission to give my baby formula whenever you feel itā€™s warranted.ā€

ā€œYes, sir.ā€

ā€œGet a supervisor down here. Now.ā€

Half an hour later an administrator arrives. At this point Natalieā€™s out of the woods but Iā€™m still pissed. I calmly explain what happened. The administrator listens patiently.

ā€œYou do understand that if something happened to my child Iā€™d sue you for millions?ā€ I ask in a low even voice.

ā€œYes, sir,ā€ she says, taken aback.

For the first time in my life I mention all the media contacts Iā€™ve accumulated in my Rolodex and how I got them. ā€œYour family friendly policy sounds like marketing and not medically sound. If something happened to my baby I would not rest until someone lost his or her job. Understand?ā€

ā€œYes, sir.ā€

ā€œHereā€™s whatā€™s going to happen,ā€ I say. ā€œMy child will be under observation in the nursery tonight. Then I want a pediatrician to evaluate her prior to any talk of discharge. Someoneā€™s ass is going to be on the line for this kid. Do you understand?ā€

ā€œYes, sir.ā€

And that folks is how you become the most popular father on the maternity ward.

The evening passes without incident and Natalie is one-hundred percent.Ā  Early the next morning another nurse intercepts me in the hallway. Ā ā€œIā€™m glad you spoke up,ā€ she says. ā€œWe were all talking about your case this morning.ā€ Then she tells me that the nursing staff has serious problems with the hospitalā€™s family friendly policy and its emphasis on breastfeeding and how children are not getting enough food at times. She tells me they have had conflicts with the lactation consultants. ā€œYouā€™re not the first parents to run into this problem,ā€ she says. ā€œWeā€™re going to have a meeting with administration and voice our concerns.ā€

So there you have it. A hospitalā€™s policy put my kid at risk.

Now Iā€™m sure that wasnā€™t the hospitalā€™s plan. My mother told me horror stories of how nurses used to rule maternity wards like guilt tripping dictators so family friendly policies are probably a good change. But working in mental health showed me how even the most well-meaning plans can be full of unforeseen holes. And when hospital administrators, who often operate like feudal lords, put agendas that look good on paper over real world medical concerns, problems will arise.

A quick perusal of the Internet showed me all I ever wanted to know about the lactivists, Nipple Nazis and the breast-feeding war being waged in America. I donā€™t really give a shit. While Iā€™m all for breastfeeding and recognize itā€™s benefits, itā€™s a function of nature and not an ideology. If a new mom is not making enough milk or the babyā€™s not latching on; giving a baby formula is not the end of the world. It will not wreck their chance of getting into Harvard. Of course every baby is different and every parentā€™s experience and needs will be different ā€“ but Iā€™m talking about my baby here. This nerve wracking episode showed me you have to protect your child from day one. Even from the people who are supposed to know better.

Later that day the nurse who sounded the alarm tearfully apologizes to my wife, saying she would never again let her nursing judgment be influenced by hospital politics. I thank the nurse for speaking up and express our gratitude to her and the entire staff for taking care of Natalie.

ā€œSounds like you started something,ā€ my wife says after the nurse leaves.

I look at my daughter as she sleeps in my wifeā€™s arms. My outward demeanor is calm but a protective fire is raging within.

ā€œNobody fucks with us,ā€ I whisper, stroking my daughterā€™s hair. ā€œNobody.ā€

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