Don't cry...

You know that saying?  

I'm sure you do...  

Don't cry over spilled milk. 

I had lots of hopes and dreams with Hannah. I so wanted to breast feed this child. I knew she would most likely be my last biological child. I just longed to do all of those wonderful mommy baby things one last time. 

After I got into Anchorage from the village my OB sent me for an ultrasound. The radiologist was just estatic about how perfect she was. He kept looking at the heart and spine. Everything looked wonderful. 

When he switched to 3D her face just didn't look right to me. But he kept saying she was perfect- so I didn't bring it up. Because really- what mom wants to bring that up when the radiologist is just saying everything is wonderful?  

Well...  When I had Hannah she had slight low blood sugars. They were required to test that because I had gestational diabetes. And- even though she was only one or two points low, the nurse insisted she take a bottle. 

Well. That bottle didn't work. It went everywhere but where it was supposed to. Immediately I knew there was something wrong. I did notice she had a small jaw, but thought maybe it was just from being in the birth canal. Little did I know this would be a long journey with a baby who couldn't feed or breath properly. 

Little did I know I would never breast feed his child. 

Hannah ended up in NICU for two weeks before we were medivaked to Seattle Children's Hospital. While at Providence I had a really great lactation consultant. I got started on pumping right away- and I was diligent about it. There was also this "morher's milk money" that helped me get a nursing bra. Without those two things I am pretty sure I would have failed at pumping for Hannah.  I'm pretty sure that having my milk kept Hannah healthy while we were around so many contagious diseases in the hospitals. 

Little did I know that pumping would be my full time job for the next two months. There were times I couldn't even hold her... And pumping was the only tangible thing I could do to help my daughter. 

I remember one night in Seattle Children's. The nurse was having a hard night. We had to measure all of Hannah's feeds. So the breast milk went into vials, and poured into more viles and eventually into a bag that got delivered through her NG tube into her tummy. Well, the nurse was measuring the viles for her feed and accidentally dumped the milk everywhere. The milk I had taken hours to pump (pumping was not easy for me) was all over the floor. 

She looked at me as she desperately apologized. I just looked down at my baby who I happened to be able to hold at that moment because she was stable enough to be held. 

I looked back up, "It's ok. My baby is alive. She is breathing. Everything is fine". 

She just looked back. I knew she wanted to cry. I knew SHE knew how much time and effort it was taking me to pump. 

Don't cry over spilled milk. 

As costly as the milk was, my daughter was infinitely more dear to me. 

You see- it's funny how your perspective changes...  When you see what is truly important. 

It isn't things. 

It is people.