Freebirth Story on New Years Day!

*There is some nudity in these videos of my birth, but not very graphic*

On New Years Day 2019, I gave birth to my 5th baby! My 4th daughter, and 2nd freebirth/unassisted birth. I was 40 weeks exactly, she was actually born on her guess date. I had contractions from my 2nd trimester, which became increasingly frequent and strong in the week or so leading up to her birth. I felt a certain change in the strength of them in the 24 hours before labor began. I woke up around 4am on 1/1 and watched a show on Netflix. I went to my rocking chair in the living room and put up my swollen feet. I felt my belly getting stronger contractions but still slept in between them.

My husband woke up around 7am and asked me if he should call out of work. I told him to ask me again soon and I would tell him. I was not certain that I would have the baby yet by then, but while he got ready I decided that even if I didn’t give birth that day, I would need his help with the kids regardless.

Things picked up really fast after this. We were in the kitchen together as the kids woke up, and my husband noticed my contractions were awfully close together. He was keeping an eye on the clock and told me they were about 5 minutes apart. He was surprised by how close they were, and I was feeling certain that baby was coming now.

I called my mom and told her to come get the kids around 8:30am. By 9am, I had sequestered myself in the bathroom where I held onto the sink for dear life as the contractions rocked me. I could not deal with being by the kids, so I called my mom and basically told her HURRY UP BABY IS COMING.

She flew over here and grabbed the kids for me. As my husband put our son into her car, she pushed on my hips for me but then she said, “how do you know the contractions are actually doing anything?” “have you had any bloody show?” I remembered then why she can’t be my birth support with a UC, she means well but her questions were not helpful. I only ever had bloody show or a mucus plug with my 4th baby by the way. I had no obvious signs of cervical dilation, neither was I concerned at all about checking myself, but I simply could feel their power and knew they were doing their job.

She left with the kids and finally my husband Fernando could come in and help me. I had him give me counter pressure on my lower back for a few contractions, then I asked him to run the shower and get in with me. It was very nice to have the hot water on my back and to be close to him physically. He stood in front of me and I leaned into him. He saw I was anxious, because of how fast I went from “maybe labor” to “holy moly this hurts”. He reminded me over and over that I was capable, and strong, and that my body knew how to have the baby. He also reminded me to BREATH. I took some deep breaths and calmed down.

When I felt ready to leave the shower soon I told him to come out and get stuff ready for me. I was having many contractions now, and occasional breaks of a few minutes or so. Those breaks were like heaven for me. In my head I was thinking about escaping the pain, but I would talk back to myself “that is because the baby is almost here, your almost done”. I left the bathroom with a towel around me, and stood by the living room table. I had a pillow on the table that I leaned on, as Fernando pushed on my lower back and reached around me so I could squeeze his hands. It was around 10am and I KNEW I was in transition and baby was coming shortly. I was also resisting a bit, because I had no time to mentally go there.

I was not zen like at this point. I banged on the table, threw a bottle of water, and cursed through contractions. I also did not care one iota. I just wanted to get through this and I kept picturing myself resting with my baby as motivation.

I felt things shift and pressure building. I moved to my previous births “birth spot”, on my knees and leaning over my bed with pillows. I had my husband do something that I never imagined before, but it just kind of happened and felt perfect. He came behind me on his knees, and he leaned over me in a bear-hug type position. The pressure of his weight against my hips and lower back felt awesome and being surrounded by his body and holding his hands was perfect. It actually felt very sensual despite the pain I was in, and it was not the first time I felt sensual towards him during this labor. It was not sexual exactly, but very sensual.

I was being totally consumed by the contractions and the pressure was very intense. My body was bearing down, and my belly was squeezing baby down very hard. My water was still intact. I took out a hand-held mirror and watched my vagina to try and distract myself. I never bothered to watch before, it was a good distraction. I thought I saw the baby’s head and got excited, but it was my own tissues being pushed from the pressure. I knew baby was right there though.

Sure enough, the next contraction came, and I felt her deep in my birth canal. I was in a lot of pain but breathing through it. I put my hand down there so I could feel for the head, again, as a nice motivation and distraction. That is when everything let loose. My water exploded, poop came out, and my vuvla was opening up for baby’s head. I felt the head right there, almost out. My husband was still behind me and I knew all those fluids were getting all over him, but I thought “well, I have to give birth so he can handle that” lol

Next came baby’s head, and then the body just slipped right out! I was SO RELIEVED to have given birth. It was right about 11am.

Right away I noticed it was a GIRL, and we both laughed so hard because I swore the whole pregnancy it was a boy. She was crying immediately, and her cord was very short. I asked for a towel because she was so slippery, I could hardly hold her. She sounded like she had some gunk in her and we considered sucking it out with out mouth, but it didn’t seem too bad, so we just waited, and she was fine.

I was sitting in a pool of blood and bodily fluids, everything was everywhere. But I was so excited to have my baby! She was beat up from her quick exit, but we realized she looked like me! Finally, after the other 4 being my husbands twin.

Fernando helped me move into a reclining sitting position. I was in a bit of pain still, so I didn’t want to sit directly on my butt. I got to know this little person who I carried for 40 weeks. She nursed, and her latch was perfect. She was wide awake and taking it all in.

I decided to try and move into a better position to birth the placenta after about half an hour of needed rest. It just didn’t come, but I was still bleeding a lot. I felt healthy, so I was not concerned. It was about an hour after birth when I stood up for a while and told Fer to cut the cord, so I could focus on birthing the placenta. But, I had a feeling that it was an emotional block. As he went to gather supplies for the cord, I put my hand over my belly and told the placenta to let go, it was ok to let go. I realized I was holding onto the placenta with my fears, because birthing the baby hurt so much. As soon as that fear released, the placenta detached, and I felt it coming out. Just in time, Fernando caught it in a chux pad for me.

I felt incredible for it all to be over! We wondered over our newest daughter and laughed and kissed. We cut her cord after about two hours and I showered off. I was bleeding quite a bit, but I decided to just keep an eye on it and it slowed down later to a normal level. I ate a banana and drank some juice and felt overall very healthy and strong and happy.

So, the birth was fantastic as far as health and autonomy. I love being in my own home, and I love birthing with only my husband. It was a very difficult birth as far as pain levels, and my guess on that is because it was my fastest birth by far. Typically, I have hours to get my game face on and prepare. But this was go time from the start. I learned a lot about my strength, and it was a way to grow closer to my husband because I relied on him so much. I wouldn’t change it for anything, and I am so happy to add her to our family.

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Grieving My Aunts Sudden Death, Right Before Giving Birth

I received a text message from my mother before I had gotten out of bed, “Call me when you’re up. It’s important.”

I immediately got out of bed, my heart beating faster. I knew something very bad had happened, because there is no way she should ever text me like that otherwise. I tried to prepare my still sleepy mind for terrible news. Somebody I love must be badly hurt, or dead. I just didn’t know who. Part of me did not want to know, but delaying the phone call would not change anything.

I went into the bathroom and quietly called her. There were no typical pleasantries. We both knew there was only one reason for this phone call. There was no way to sugar coat the news, “Aunt Cookie is dead”.

Then, silence on my end. My head swimming with the abrupt finality of those words. Injured, or sick leaves room for hope. Death is unforgiving, leaving no space for second chances.

How? When? What on earth happened?

Not so many details yet. She was at a friend’s house. She overdosed on her medications. No one knows if it was intentional, or accidental.

She was hospitalized recently for suicidal depression. She had battled depression her entire life, but she had lost over 100lbs in recent years and seemed to be doing better. Did she do it intentionally? Then again, she was known to occasionally abuse her medications. In an attempt to get relief from her mental stress, she would take too many benzos or opiates. That is an easy way to accidentally overdose, and given her age and health status, it would be even easier.

Either situation leaves us in sudden grief. A poor decision made in haste, clouded by depression. She is gone. There is no way to bring her back to us. My cousins, and second cousins have lost their mother and grandmother. My mother and aunts have lost their sister. I have lost my aunt.

And I am nearly 40 weeks pregnant.

How do I manage death and new life simultaneously? How does my family embrace, and celebrate a new addition; while saying goodbye to another loved one?

And then, the practical concerns that plague those coping with death. The Funeral. The wake. What if I go into labor at the same time as the funeral service? How could I possibly miss it? How could I ask my mother to help me, support me, watch my children during labor if she is supposed to be saying goodbye to her sister?

All of this is sitting inside of me, eating me up.

We describe deep sadness as our “heart breaking”, or “soul crushing”. It is a not just a figure of speech, it literally feels as if my heart is breaking and my soul is being crushed. There is a physical element to emotional pain that is undeniable, and it is with me all day today. I am carrying that heaviness, just as real as my toddler on my hip and heavy baby in my womb.

I didn’t have a way to prepare for this. Life is often interrupted by a series of uncontrollable events. We are really not in control of many things, despite pretending otherwise.

As a believer, this is a time for me to get grounded in the Word. To remember that He is in control, and knows all things. He is our comforter, our healer, and our refuge in times of need. I have to trust in Him, to continue to guide this pregnancy until birth. I have to trust him, even in the face of death and loss. I am reminded of my mortality as well. We are not promised tomorrow, so let’s make the best of today. And remember to tell our loved ones how much we value them in our lives, because you may not have another chance.

Shalom.

My Unassisted Baby Turns 1 Years Old Today!

One year ago today, at exactly this time, I was in intense labor. I held my husbands hands, as he sat in front of me. I leaned my sweaty head into his chest and moaned “oooooOOOOOOOooooo”. I breathed, I swayed, I moved around. I cried. I was brave. And then, he was here. I can close my eyes and smell his birth, and feel his wet head against my chest. I was elated! My son! My only son! My fourth baby.My husband and I were in awe over this tiny being we made and brought into the world together. His three big sisters came with Nana to meet him the next day, and he has been their loved baby brother every since. We became a family of six! 86220161013_191005

 

We went through 2 difficult months of colic, then he blossomed into a baby who wanted to see the world around him. He always wanted to be held facing outward, never wanting to miss any action.

He learned to roll over, and crawl with his sisters encouragement. He started playing with toys and interacting with his sisters.

Now, he is 1 and his two front teeth on the top and bottom popped out just this week after months of teething! He starting to take steps on his own, and will soon be walking (then, I am sure, RUNNING) after his sisters.

Markos Lorenzo, my first freebirth and my first baby boy; you are so loved! I cherish you with my whole heart, and so does Daddy and your sisters. I look forward to our many adventures and learning together as you grow.

Love,

Momma

The Wide Open Heart of a Mother

I think it may be the prenatal hormones that are kicking in. I am getting close to my due date (about 6-8 weeks away) and the baby is moving a lot, our connection has grown a lot already as I prepare myself physically and mentally for his arrival. It could be that, I don’t know. All I know is that I have found myself really contemplating and feeling the vastness of my love for my children.

My oldest is 5 and she will start kindergarten homeschooling within weeks. I am in awe of this little thinking person she has become. I miss her babyhood, yet I adore the child she is and look forward to the years ahead that we have of learning together. She is strongly empathetic and caring, her spirit is one that naturally wants to help others. My hips have been in so much pain lately from SPD (a condition of loose ligaments during pregnancy), and she has taken to rubbing my hips gently to sooth it. I never showed her how to do that, nor did I ask her to do it. She just knew. She just sensed what I needed and desired to help ease my pain. She is also strong, which is good because she is so sensitive. She hurts easily; but I see inside of her the strength of my mother and my grandmother and great-grandmother. Women whose blood runs in her veins; women who are and were strong. She is beautiful in so many ways, my little girl. My mother heart feels physically full to think of her.

And then there is my second, 3.5 year old Liora. She is fiery. She is powerful, all sinewy strength and muscle. She takes a lot of time, attention, and sometimes leaves me questioning my ability as a mother. Yet, she is tiny physically (all that solid muscle in a short petite frame). She is in some ways even softer and more easily damaged than her big sister is. She needs my love in a way that is fierce and terrifying for her. She will rage and tantrum if she is scared of losing it. Recently, she hurt her sister (again) and I was upset. She was all fury; fists, teeth, knees and jabs. But then, she broke down. She wept, and looked up at me with those amazing brown eyes filed with tears and said “mommy, you don’t love me anymore?” My heart broke. Shattered. I pulled her into me and assured with a thousand words and kisses that my love was still there, and would always be there. I spent time this week just holding her. She requires physical touch, and verbal affirmation. She will be a force to be reckoned with in this world, my little Li. A wonderful, loving, fiery force.

My current “baby”, my third daughter Zipporah. She is 2 years old and ready to do everything her big sisters do. They are her world, especially Liora. I labored for a day with Z, and fought hard for her after she was born and the hospital tried to keep her from me. She came home with me with a head full of dark hair and the fullest cheeks. I was a confident mother with her. I knew that I was her mother, and therefore all she needed as a babe. I nursed her, slept with her, and carried her everywhere. Yet, she was always my most independent baby. She rarely ever cried. She enjoyed the chaos around her formed by her big sisters, and as soon as possible she joined in. We called her “free-range baby” because she would just crawl around, then toddle around after her sisters. Momma is still important, but if big sisters are there than she feels safe and ready for adventure. When she says to me “mom mom” my heart is a puddle and she gets whatever she wants. She has an incredible vocabulary for a 2 year old, and she is still my easy going one although the toddler in her does protest when she wants. She adores babies. All babies. Any baby. Just give her a baby and she is in love. Also, food. She loves to eat. She is tall (unlike Liora), and sturdy. Her face reveals her family from Colombia, a beautiful mixture of daddy and me. I am relishing this stage of her life. I love the 2 year old age, despite the tantrums, because of the wonder they have and how every single thing she does is just cute.

And now, my baby boy. My first and only unborn son. I have yet to hold him in my arms but I have carried him and nurtured him for the last several months. Our bodies are connected, almost one. He moves inside of me, and I have learned when he is active and when he sleeps. He reacts to what I eat, and how I am feeling. He is my “healing baby”. He came to us at the close of a horrible, horrible year. He gave me hope. He gave me a reason to change (more of a reason) from the path I was going down. I cannot wait to see what his birth teaches me, and to hold him in my arms and at my breast.

Yes, my mother heart is full. It is full, yet it expands with every child. My mothers heart is wide and open.

 

 

 

The Birds and The Bees; How I Told My 5 year old, and What I Learned.

Today I had the first of what will be many conversations about sex, with my five-year-old daughter. Yes, the birds and the bees. More specifically, how babies are made. I had been trying so hard to avoid this conversation with her. You see, I am pregnant with her baby brother and she really wanted to know how on earth that happened!

My daughter, Noemi, is a bright little girl. She is a critical thinker. She wants real answers, and she wants to know “how” and “why” for everything; including how babies are made. The first time she asked me the question, “THE Question”, my heart jumped into my throat. She’s just a little preschooler! Surely I must avoid actually explaining this to her! I refuse to lie to my children, so I settled on a vague but essentially true explanation. It went something like this;

*Deep Breath*

“Well, sweetheart…a man has a..a seed. Yes, a seed.
And, well, you see…uhhh…this seed goes into the mommy’s belly and..
Uhhh…it meets the egg from the mommy and…well..a baby is made
And grows inside the mommy’s tummy.”

There. I said it. I stared into her big brown eyes and hoped my explanation would satisfy her. My mother gave me basically the same story around her age and I remember being really confused. A seed? I imagined that when a boy reached a certain age, his father would solemnly hand the boy a box, and inside that box laid the baby seed. The boy would give the seed to his wife, who would of course swallow it because that’s how anything gets into your tummy, and a baby would grow. This is obviously wildly incorrect, and hilarious, yet I chose the same story for my own child. I am my mother now. That’s another story.

Anyway..

Noemi was not satisfied with this crazy answer. She wanted to know “but how does the seed get into the mommy?” At that point I realized I was totally unprepared for these questions and so I deflected them. I told her “well, you know…lets buy a book and discuss another time. Ok sweetheart?”

Except, I didn’t buy the book. I did research some, but I never purchased any, and I hoped deep inside that she would forget and never ask me again until sometime close to her wedding day.

As my belly swelled, and the presence of this baby brother became more pronounced, the questions from my daughter continued. She did not forget. She was not satisfied with my “men and women fit together like a puzzle and that’s how we make a baby” explanation. Which is too bad because I thought it was pretty clever.

Then, tonight she asked me questions about her baby brother and she wanted to know if he had a seed, like daddy, to make a baby one day. I told her that no, he didn’t yet, but one day when he was older his body would make a seed to create his own baby. This lead into “THE Questions” again. But this time, I knew I could no longer ignore her.

She asked me with sincerity, with genuine curiosity, and she really wanted to understand. I came to realize that I was making this an issue. I would cause her to feel that this was some mystery that she dare not discover, or even worse, something to be scared of or ashamed to hear about. I decided on the spot that today I would not distract her. I would not lie. I would give her the answers to her questions the best I could.

So, I began with where we started. The seed. The puzzle. Her questions continued, direct questions I could no longer avoid. She is only five years old! I felt that somehow this was a point of no return that I wasn’t ready to cross yet. I didn’t want her to know. But why? If she was old enough to have the question, then I ought to answer it. So, I did.

I allowed her to lead the questions, offering no more information than she herself requested to know. I clarified which body parts exactly-a penis and a vagina- were involved. I told her that yes, they fit together, and that is how the seed enters the mothers body. She thought the penis would detach, and I had to stifle a big laugh, until I explained that the penis stays on the man’s body. She said some other funny things, but other than her eyes widening in surprise for a moment (at which we both laughed at how “crazy” this sounds!) she was not greatly affected.

She didn’t fall apart from the most basic knowledge of sexual intercourse and procreation. She did not morph into a teenager before my eyes. She is still innocent. She is still my baby girl. But now, I hope with everything in me, she will trust me to answer her questions about her body and sex and babies. I realized tonight that this was not the end of our conversation, it was only the very beginning. I am grateful to have gotten over my own hang-ups and insecurities and fears, in order to offer to what she deserves; honest answers to her questions.

I am sure her idea of what sex looks like is still pretty far off from what it actually is. That’s OK. She is finally satisfied, for now. As she gets older, it is my prayer that she will come to me with more questions. It is my prayer that she will trust me not to shrink away from the truth. It is my prayer that she will come to see her sexuality as a gift from her Creator, to be used within the parameters he has given to us in the Scriptures. There is nothing perverted or dirty or bad about sex and making new life. I hope she honors and respects this great gift. I pray that one day, long from now, she will come into her marriage bed feeling open and beautiful and free. I pray she has the knowledge necessary and the confidence to begin her sexual life in a healthy (physically, emotionally, spiritually) way; and that I can feel blessed to have been a part of that learning.

May we ALL be granted the wisdom to speak with our children about their bodies and sex in a godly and truthful manner. May we ALL see it from our Creator’s point of view, and not shame our children for asking sincere questions. May we show them the gift this is, and explain the importance of respecting it and ourselves.

May it be so. Amen.

Shalom.

Journey to Breastfeeding- Part 2

Baby Liora was about 1.5 weeks old. I threw out the rest of those tiny bottles of formula. I didn’t want them tempting me and taunting me as I tried to nurse my baby. I began to feel as if I was never wearing a shirt. I was always topless and putting her to the breast. As difficult as that was, I started to feel as if we were making progress. My nipples never hurt or bled like they did with my oldest, her latch was perfect again!

And then, the growth spurt!

Now listen, when you say you want to breastfeed your baby the hospital will hand you a packet of information about it. I remember reading and being told that the baby will nurse approximately 10 minutes on each breast every 2-3 hours. My baby wanted to nurse much longer than that, and it was rare she would go 2 hours between feedings! I felt as if she was nursing 24/7.

The packet told me 10 minutes on each breast! And every 2-3 hours! Surely something must be wrong, because all of a sudden at around the same time every evening she latched on and refused to latch off. I sat on the couch, after three hours of nursing, and cried heartily. What’s wrong with me? I can’t do this! I can’t live like this! This is awful!

That is when I stumbled upon a website called kellymom.com, and it quite possibly saved my breastfeeding relationship. Apparently, you should take that handy packet they give you and throw it in your recycle bin or create a bon fire with it. It is useless, and inaccurate.

First of all, newborns love to nurse. They need to nurse! This is how your supply increases. This is also how they are comforted. Remember in my first post I discussed ditching the pacifier, well our breasts are natures real pacifiers! We pacify our babies at the breast, and we keep our supply regular as well.

Second of all, there was no mention of growth spurts! I was caught off guard completely when Li went hours on end nursing. I thought my supply must be gone. I must be starving my baby! Nope. She was just growing. She was just doing what babies do. It can be frustrating, but I promise it does not last forever. It is usually only a few days of extra nursing, and then your back on track.

I was thankful to know that she wasn’t suddenly starving, and also that this would not last forever; because let’s face it, 3 hours of nursing non-stop wasn’t very fun.

One major benefit was nighttime! Now I know often you hear that formula helps a baby sleep, but I really disagree with that. I formula fed my oldest and this is basically how it went….

  • Feed her a bottle before nighttime, rock her sleep and place her next to me in her co-sleeper.
  • Wake up two hours later with her screaming blood murder.
  • Slowly drag myself out of bed, and hold her in one arm as I shhhh shhhh her and make a bottle.
  • Warm the bottle. While she screams.
  • Take screaming newborn to my rocking chair and give her the bottle.
  • Burp her. Get formula puke on my shoulder.
  • Stand up and walk her around the room, patting her back, get her back to sleep.
  • Lay down in bed.
  • Wake up an hour or two later with her screaming bloody murder.
  • Repeat. ALL NIGHT LONG.

Yeah, not very relaxing or conducive for good sleep!

With my Liora, my first breastfed baby, I had her sleep in my bed with me (yes, it absolutely IS safe when done correctly) and this is how our nights went….

  • Nurse baby in my rocking chair before bed.
  • Baby falls asleep at my breast. Awe, so cute!
  • Read a little bit.
  • Go to bed with baby.
  • Baby starts to stir and make little noises.
  • Latch baby to breast while not moving from sleep position, or fully waking up.
  • Go back to sleep while baby feeds herself at my breast.

Guess which situation gave me better sleep?

So here we were, moving right along in our nursing journey.

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Nursing newborn Liora with big sis Noemi next to me

Things were starting to improve a lot. By the time she was 1 month old the days of struggling to latch her were long gone. Now, I had my toddler in the front seat of my grocery cart, and the baby under one arm nursing, while I pushed the cart with the other arm and finished my food shopping! NO joke, I really did this.

I was feeling a pro, finally. But there was still one problem left unresolved. I would keep saying “I am trying to breastfeed”, I still didn’t trust my body. Until one day, I was sitting at the edge of my bed nursing Liora when it dawned on me, “Wait…I AM NURSING!”

It sounds like a simple thing, but in that moment I realized that I had won. My body had not failed me. My baby did not need formula or bottles or pacifiers. All she needed, for the next five months of her life was ME. That’s it. Just me. I was enough. I was feeding her!

Those chubby thighs? My milk did that. Those adorable chubby checks? Yep, my milk again. I looked at my baby contentedly nursing and almost said out-loud to myself “I AM A BREASTFEEDING MOTHER!”

And the journey continued…

Journey to Breastfeeding- Part 1

*Warning: I do post a single picture of my baby at my chest and my breast is visible*

When I think about my second born child, another little baby girl, something that comes to mind immediately is our closeness. I am close to all my children, but I think of our closeness as something solid and physical. I can feel her body and mine together in a way that is very tangible and real. She was my first breastfed baby.

I did try to nurse Noemi, my oldest daughter, only 18 months before Liora was born. I was a new mother, and like many new mothers I experienced significant road blocks to success. Sadly, I was not able to navigate them, and I nursed her for only 2 weeks exclusively.

But Liora, I did things differently with her. First I went with midwives rather than sticking it out with an abusive OB (Noemi’s birth story, I will share soon). They supported me in a natural birth, which helps begin breastfeeding more easily. They believed in my body’s ability to produce milk to feed my baby. This made a huge difference in how we started our journey together.

During pregnancy, I was not convinced of my body’s ability to sustain my baby solely on my milk alone. I kept saying “I am going to try to breastfeed” or “I really hope I can breastfeed”, as if it were a matter of luck or chance. There are a very small percentage of women who have physical problems (IGT, hormonal problems, etc.) but it is quite rare and

I had no reason to suspect any of these. Yet, the memories of my first born screaming constantly, the bloody and painful nipples, and nights crying my eyes out on the front porch had left me feeling rather inadequate and suspicious of my breasts actually working.

The day of her birth came, and as soon as she entered the world she was placed on my chest. She was wide awake, unlike Noemi who was born drugged. She looked right at me, and gently I brought her near my nipple. She latched on right away, perfectly and peacefully. I almost wept with joy! Maybe, just maybe, this could really work.

I was being pressured heavily by the nurses on the ward to give Liora a pacifier. The main reason why my breastfeeding relationship with my oldest was destroyed was due to “nipple confusion”; she nursed as if she was using an artificial nipple, and this caused painful bleeding nipples and low milk supply. The nurses all assured me that it was a “myth” (I hear this often, it angers me so!) and they even gave her pacifiers without my consent on multiple occasions.

Pacifiers do what the name implies, they pacify the crying baby. I took her home using a pacifier, I hated to hear her cry, and it was such an easy solution. I told myself that perhaps I was wrong, perhaps it wouldn’t cause any problems.

Well, it did. Her latch began to become noticeably uncomfortable and she was struggling to get it right. I knew the culprit was the pacifier, but I was being told by everyone around me not to take it away completely. I ignored them, and finally did what I knew I needed to do—get rid of the thing!

I threw out every single pacifier in our home, and within 24 hours her latch was once again perfect. There was only one problem….

Jaundice!

Liora was only a about 5 days old at this point, but I had been taking her to the pediatrician for blood samples due to her looking rather yellow. Almost as soon as I arrived home after our last appointment, they called me back and essentially told me to rush her to the hospital because her levels were dangerously high.

I was still a tired, hormonal mess and our nursing relationship was just getting started. I was so scared for her! I was also worried that once again my milk was not enough. My mother drove us to the hospital while my husband stayed home with our oldest, who I missed badly after days on the maternity ward. I had never been separated from our first child before the birth of her sibling, who was now sick, and I just wanted to crawl into a ball and cry forever.

After getting settled into our hospital room, the nurses put Liora under the lamps to reduce her bilirubin levels. They seemed quite concerned about her but they helped me understand what everything was for, and how to take her out to nurse her.

I sat there staring at my little baby, with these silly goggles on and I could only touch her through a door in the plastic box she was in. I cried. I cried a lot. I stroked her little arms, and I thought about how hard this was and how badly I wanted to bring her home so we could all be a family.

This may sound a bit dramatic, but remember I had just given birth!

I pumped like crazy while she was sleeping, desperate to keep my milk supply going. I did not trust my body, and I felt as if I would surely dry up like a hot desert valley if I didn’t keep on pumping! But man, I hated that contraption! Also, my body just didn’t respond very well to it. I kept taking her out whenever possible and nursing her, but the nurses really discouraged me from doing so because she needed to be under the lights.

I was pressured into giving her a little formula. They kept telling me dire warnings of what could happen if she didn’t eat enough. I was reminded that excreting the bilirubin was the best way to get rid of it. I relented and gave her tiny bottles of formula after putting her to my breast.

I felt almost defeated. I was so happy that we addressed her latch problem, but now here I was giving her formula. My heart was heavy as I considered the possibility that this just wouldn’t work. I would fail again.

But then, the next day, they released her! I was overjoyed to be going back home with my little baby, to join her big sister and daddy. I wanted to stay home with them forever, and just enjoy being together.

The nurse gave me a bag of formula before I left….