A Tale of Two Babies

I was awoken at 3 am by another pretty strong contraction. I had decided to start timing them, and they were steadily 8 minutes apart. The OB had told me to call and head to the hospital if that happened, because the last thing they want from a liability standpoint is a woman who has had five C sections in five years laboring. But, we had to go into the hospital in two hours anyway to have the section, so I decided to wait it out and just make some last minute preparations. Disclaimer: I do not recommend this and it was really stupid, but in my (weak) defense, I was really exhausted.

Two years-worth of exhausted, to be exact. Since our fateful 20 week scan with my fifth child, Regina, my life had been an agonizing blur of biophysical profiles, non-stress tests, fifth C section, NICU for a month, feeding tubes, more specialists’ appointments, physical therapy, feeding therapy, heart failure, open heart surgery, open heart surgery recovery, more therapies, more feeding tubes, constant projectile vomiting, and finally, feeding tube weaning. I had exclusively pumped breastmilk for my medically fragile baby for nine months because I knew she desperately needed the antibodies and because I had been harboring the delusional hope that some day she would latch and nurse. But, every time I offered her the breast she would retch, even after her open heart surgery. As my supply slowly dwindled down to nothing because I just couldn’t dedicate enough time to pumping, I had to let go of my dream of some day nursing her. Some babies with Down syndrome simply cannot or will not nurse. It is not a fact that the Down syndrome community likes to advertise, but it is true nonetheless.

I was ecstatic that I had miraculously weaned Regina off of the feeding tube, but I also felt completely drained. The past year had been a year from hell. And even though Regina was thriving and the most delightful and loving child, the trauma from it all rankled. The very mention of a breast pump sent me spiraling down into many painful memories. I felt I could not emotionally handle any more children.

Enter the second baby of my tale: The Impossible Baby. I have never been so shocked by a positive pregnancy test. For those of you who speak NFP, this pregnancy was a nine day pre peak baby. Nine. Days. And this was following perfect protocol and double checking it was a true peak with progesterone strips on the correct day there would be a progesterone rise and everything. And ultrasound dating confirmed it. By all conventional wisdom, this baby shouldn’t exist! But there it was, on the sonogram as clear as day. I shook my fist at heaven and could not figure out why. Why on Earth now, God?! I just finished the worst year of my life! I have had five C sections and my OB just retired! I don’t even know if any OB would take me on as a patient at this point!

But a dear friend helped me find an OB who not only agreed to take me, but is also a very skilled surgeon. And when it came time for the 20 week scan, I was so anxious, I was tearing my hair out. After Regina’s disastrous 20 week scan, I felt like all of the excitement of seeing the baby on ultrasound was forever robbed from me. I prayed the rosary nonstop and desperately hoped that there wasn’t anything terribly wrong. And, miracle of miracles, the baby looked perfectly healthy. And an even greater miracle: after five girls, this baby is a boy. I left that appointment walking on air. I couldn’t believe God had shown me some mercy. I felt like I didn’t even deserve it.

Anyway, I finally headed to the hospital at the scheduled time to have my sixth C section to deliver the Impossible Baby. By the time I arrived, my contractions were anywhere from 8-4 minutes apart, but not regular, so I wasn’t concerned. They gave me some fantastic pain medicine through my IV to slow down labor, and after I was done with surgery prep, it was time to meet this Impossible Baby. We decided to name him Christopher Rex, after Christ the King. The same Christ who calmed the storm after his Apostles desperately appealed to him to wake up because they were terrified the storm would take them all.

After a mercifully successful and uneventful C section, I was waiting in recovery and still had yet to hold and nurse (!) my baby. I had been dying to nurse him since I first found out I was pregnant. It was my chance at redemption. First, they told me he was grunting while breathing, so I couldn’t nurse him. Then, they told me that he had low blood sugars and needed an IV. Then, they told me they would send him to the NICU. I resisted the rising panic and dread and asked to hold him. They reiterated that I could not nurse him, let me hold him briefly, and then whisked him away again.

After six hours of waiting and stressing, and asking for my baby, a NICU nurse (our favorite one from Regina’s stay) finally wheeled him in and I was finally able to nurse him. She told me they fed him a bottle already, after telling me all day he was not permitted nurse! And most egregiously, without asking my permission. My baby’s first meal was formula from a stranger. “Shake it off, Sylvia,” I told myself. At least he was with his mama now and nursing like a champ.

Later on, a lactation consultant came into my hospital room with a breast pump. The very sight of it made me feel ill. She told me that the baby had lost a few ounces so I would have to start pumping after every nursing session to force my milk to come in. Keep in mind this was Day 3 after his birth. She was lucky I couldn’t get out of bed or lift anything heavier than my newborn, because I wanted nothing more than to remove her bodily from the room. I informed her I would do no such thing. She retreated immediately after watching me nurse him, mumbling something about the ounces were probably lost after a big poop or something. I was relieved to be finally left alone to enjoy my new baby.

But my relief was short-lived. The next day, they informed me his bilirubin levels were too high, and yet again he was torn from my arms to spend time under the lights. I could feel the panic rising again, and yet again I fought it as irrational, and felt guilty for even feeling that way. It’s just a little jaundice. It’s not like it is heart failure and a refusal to feed. They placed him in his little tanning bed and put him next to my bed, while I listened to him scream. There was nothing I could do to soothe him. I couldn’t even get out of bed, as I was freshly post major surgery. I was in a lot of pain and discomfort. With my baby’s cries and my helplessness, all I could hear echoing in my head were the cries of the babies in the NICU and CICU (cardiac intensive care unit), and something inside of me snapped. I lost it. The culmination of all these events finally led to a nervous breakdown. They quickly took my baby to the nursery, Scott stood by my side and a nurse held my hand and we all weathered through it.

I’m not supermom. In fact, I’m nothing special at all. If you wonder how I manage it all, well, I do too. The only answer is by the grace of God. I’m the worst pick for mother of many, one with complex medical needs, and yet here I am. I can only trust and have faith in God’s Will for my life, even if it seems crazy to me.

But I can tell you that joy comes in the morning. I have six children. There was a time when I thought we wouldn’t have one. Regina is alive and well, and when she tightly wraps her chubby little arms around my neck in one of her famous hugs, it gives me life. Also, God gave me another chance at breastfeeding. Furthermore, I offered up all of my suffering for a special intention, which yielded fruit! And from all these trials and tribulations, I’ve gained perspective. I’m not owed a healthy baby. I’m not owed a breastfeeding baby. Everything we have is a gift. God gives many gifts, some of them sweet and some of them bitter. And though the bitter gifts are not as enjoyable as the sweet, they bring you closer to God in ways that the sweet gifts never could.

24 thoughts on “A Tale of Two Babies

  1. Katie

    I just found out about your blog thanks to This Ain’t the Lyceum. I’m recently married and also living in the Atlanta area. We don’t have children yet, but I still look forward to reading more!

    Reply
    1. sylvia.hobgood@gmail.com Post author

      No way!! Thank you so much for reading, maybe some day we’ll bump into each other!!

      Reply
  2. Mary Elizabeth Stone

    Love hearing all the details, and love your words of encouragement about the bitter and sweet gifts. All can draw us to the Lord and all hold beauty. Those pictures are THE BEST! Love you and you are the perfect mama for your tribe. Thank God He doesn’t choose the equipped but equips those He chooses. I am right there with you!!

    Reply
  3. mbmom11

    This was amazing to read. Thank you.
    PS – My girl with DS never nursed either. She would look at me puzzled when I offered – but the bottle worked so I pumped for about 7 months. The next pregnancy (which is when my supply tanked) was supposed to be my pregnancy to make up for the chaos of the birth of my daughter with DS . It was my most anxiety ridden pregnancy ever – PSTD from the chaos I guess. And then the little stinker was a rotten nurser. And his bilirubin went up. So I gave him formula for a day, pumped like crazy, and he thrived but never really nursed well. So pumping and bottles for 10 months follow. But we survived and he’s wonderful so I guess I should accept these gifts as given and not mourn what wasn’t to be.

    Reply
  4. Shannon

    You are such an incredible witness! Your children have been so blessed by God to have you as a mother. Thank you so much for sharing this. I’ve just come through the first year of my second child’s life, and while her medical condition was not as scary as Regina’s, I feel traumatized and scared about getting pregnant again. I know God’s plan is way better than mine though, and your story and your life are inspiring to me. Thank you! God bless you and Scott and your babies.

    Reply
    1. sylvia.hobgood@gmail.com Post author

      I know exactly how you feel! Prayers for your comfort and peace! And I have heard therapy/counseling greatly helps with our PTSD (extremely common with us medical mamas). I have been meaning to take advantage of it myself. 😬

      Reply
  5. Mary Haseltine

    This is so beautiful. I’m so angry for you on how things went at the hospital and wish it had gone differently. I wish they had at least let you try to nurse or at least be together because sometimes that skin to skin can actually regulate baby’s breathing all on its own. I asked a few nurse friends and they said that formula should not have been an option in that situation either and if it was, then nursing would have been just as acceptable. I’m so sorry. But I’m so so happy that he’s here and that things are going well now. Your attitude and grace are so inspiring and such an example to me <3

    Reply
    1. sylvia.hobgood@gmail.com Post author

      Thank you, Mary! I think I’m going back to that hospital just to hand everyone your book. Their maternal care is great from a medical standpoint, but atrocious from a mama/baby standpoint, if that makes any sense. It’s like we’re not human to them. Like they are fixing cars or something.

      Reply
  6. Cindy Frye

    Oh Sylvia!!! I cried as I read this post. Your honesty and heartfelt thoughts made me think how blessed I am. I’m a child of the King; and he can see us through all things! Bless you for the encouragement to keep pushing forward. I am in awe of your strength and faithfulness! You could never know how many people you have touched, encouraged, and given hope that it will all work out! God bless you and your beautiful family!

    Reply

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