Our story this week comes from Kelsee. She always knew she would breastfeed, but after some unexpected events, that wouldn’t prove to be easy. Yet Kelsee pushed on and worked hard to provide for her daughter as best as she could!
I always knew I would breastfeed, even before I got pregnant. My mom nursed me and her mom nursed her. There is nothing like the feeling of feeding your baby with food produced by your own body. I didn’t think it was even a possibility that I wouldn’t get to have that. The breastfeeding and parenting journey I was embarking on would put to the test all of my capabilities.
At 41+3 weeks, I reluctantly went to the hospital for an induction, wishing I could have birthed naturally like I had planned. After my labor stalled and I experienced several drops in my baby’s heart rate, I needed to get a c-section. While I was terrified of getting surgery, I knew I had to be strong. I had no idea how strong I would have to be for the coming weeks ahead.
When they pulled her out of me, I didn’t hear her cry. It’s impossible to describe the feeling of that moment. True, guttural fear. All my worst anxieties while I was pregnant seemed to be coming true. I kept screaming for someone to tell me she was alive but no one would answer me. Either they didn’t know or they didn’t want to risk me doing something to endanger myself on the table. It felt like one of those nightmares where you keep screaming for help and everyone around you doesn’t seem to hear you, and you keep trying because that’s all you can do. After what felt like hours, they asked my husband if he wanted to see her and when he came back he told me they had resuscitated her and were keeping her alive with chest compressions. They took her away without letting me see her.
The first time seeing and touching her
After my mandatory hour in the recovery room, they took me to her room. She was blue, swollen, and breathing with the help of a ventilator. I reached out and touched her foot. Her toes were wonky just like mine and she smelled familiar. I could only stay for a few minutes but I named her in my head as soon as I saw her because I wasn’t sure if she was going to live and I needed her to have a name.
The beginning was a blur. My husband and I stayed with her in the hospital for the first nine days but time lost all meaning. We had no idea this would happen but we wouldn’t have been able to prepare ourselves even if we did. It was so hard to watch our child in pain and have no control over it. I didn’t feel like a mother. I wasn’t changing her diapers or feeding her. I could only hold her for a few minutes a day. I was helpless and lost. But I did have control over what she ate. So I decided I would do whatever it took to keep her on breastmilk and I hooked myself up to the pump.
I was recovering from surgery and barely sleeping or eating, but the stress from pumping was nothing compared to the stress of seeing my newborn hooked up to oxygen, monitors, IV’s, etc. So I pumped every 3 hours, night and day. She got tube fed every 3 hours and I needed to make sure I had enough for it each time, even as they were increasing her feeds day by day. Every single drop went to my baby, and when she was NPO (not being fed), I would freeze it. Thankfully, my husband was sleeping in the tiny hospital bed with me and would wash my pump parts for me each time. No one else felt the pain I was in like he did and so we continued each day as best we could together.
At some point a lactation consultant visited me and told me I needed to increase the intensity of the machine. It was so painful and I didn’t want to but I complied. My nipples were so chapped they were bleeding but I kept pumping. I had a clogged milk duct in one of my breast’s but I put a heating pad on and kept pumping. After a few days, my vision was blurring and I was incredibly weak. I thought it was because I wasn’t taking care of myself after my surgery, but I actually had lost too much blood. I got a blood transfusion and was stuck to my bed but still I kept pumping.
I was so terrified of what was happening to my daughter that I didn’t even realize or process what I was doing to myself in order to make enough milk for her. I was in a constant state of hypervigilance. I didn’t know if she was going to survive so this intense stress response inside of me never went away and even thinking about it puts me on high alert. Seeing my hard work in her bottle gave me a sliver of joy and satisfaction in an otherwise nightmare of an experience. My body was undergoing huge changes, mentally and physically, on top of the rollercoaster of emotions that comes with the NICU experience. Any normal mother has a chance of having postpartum depression or anxiety but as a NICU mother it’s almost a guarantee.
My milk supply finally became adequate enough for her feeds and I stopped threatening my health over it. I kept pumping and it was no longer painful. My nipples stopped bleeding and my milk duct became unclogged. She couldn’t feed by mouth, but at least she was getting my breastmilk.
A week or so after her heart surgery
We eventually transferred her to a different hospital with a more advanced NICU and care team that could fix her. After an attempted catheterization, one open heart surgery, a diaphragm plication, and more tests and pricks than I can count, we went home. We went home with an NG tube through her nose and she learned how to nurse but only for a few minutes. She had no stamina or instinct for feeding herself anymore so she had surgery for a more permanent option, a gastrostomy tube, where I can continue to give her breastmilk with a feeding pump. 7 months postpartum now and my milk supply has been dropping so we are having to supplement but I’m okay because I know I’ve done my absolute best. I know I should have been kinder to myself in the beginning but we’re here now and I’m proud of myself for being able to give her breastmilk even with everything we went through. It’s not the journey I had hoped for, but when you go through that kind of trauma, your perspective changes pretty dramatically. I am grateful every day that I was lucky enough to be able to take her home with me and that is enough.
How we eat now.
What do you think about Kelsee’s story? While she faced some pretty tough circumstances, we think she did an amazing job of providing for her daughter! Thanks for sharing Kelsee!
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