Asher's Milk

Have you ever had anyone do something for you that you could never repay the favor? I have been in that predicament for the last year. I am so thankful that I can’t even express my gratitude.

My last baby, Asher, was born the end of October of 2010. One thing that I had looked forward to the most was breastfeeding my son.













My first time feeding Asher Oliver in the NICU.




















Uriah, his brother, died 10 months before that. One of the most difficult aspects of his death was that I was never able to feed him. I had pumped colostrum for him, but he was never able to use it. Not only did I go through the grief of losing my son, but then I had to suffer the physical pain of “drying up.” I remember at his funeral that I was in so much pain from this I couldn’t think.

Anyway, I was truly looking forward to feeding my next baby. He was a preemie so I was not able to breastfeed him until he was a week old. I had been pumping up to that point but, as I found out later, not often enough. I should have been pumping every couple of hours. Instead, if someone came to visit I didn’t want to be rude and leave for ½ hour. So I would wait for them to leave, and then the nurses would tell me that the doctors would soon be making their rounds and I wouldn’t want to miss that so I would put it off. I had no clue this would affect my supply. After being in the hospital a week we headed home. He was nursing very well. I was so excited.

After being home a couple of days I could tell he wasn’t getting enough. He wanted to nurse all the time. He wouldn’t even wait 15 minutes between feeds. If I tried to express my milk there was none. I had nursed my first son 11 years prior. He had also ALWAYS been hungry so I supplemented with formula. I also worked full time back then with quite a bit of overtime. I was too nervous to take my pump to work (State Prison) so I would just wait until I got home to try to pump. Every time I tried to pump I couldn’t get a drop. Even after working 16 hours straight I would get nothing. He still loved to nurse, but I honestly don’t believe he ever got much of mommy’s milk. When he was 4 months old I gave up.

So here I was 11 years later with a bit more knowledge of the importance of nursing. Asher LOVED to eat, but was eating practically around the clock. At 2 weeks of age he went in for his first doctor’s visit. He had not gained an ounce. I knew then that we had a problem. My hubby and I had done quite a bit of reading on how bad formula can be for a baby. I felt absolutely awful. Why couldn’t I feed my baby? I read all of the books, websites, and talked to multiple lactation consultants. No matter what I did I couldn’t build my supply. I even tried a prescription…to no avail.

When we left the NICU he weighed 5#. A week later he still weighed 5#.

I had heard some staff members at the hospital talking about donated milk. I can only imagine the look on my face when I overheard this. Seriously? People actually use other moms’ milk? The thought of this totally grossed me out. After getting home from the doctor’s office that day I decided to do a bit more research on this. There was a local milk bank, but they charged $9 an ounce. Eek! I found a lady on Facebook from Canada, Emma Kwasnica, who had started a type of “Meals on Wheels” for babies. It was actually called “Eats on Feets” at the time. There was so much wonderful information on this site and I seriously started considering it. My hubby and I ended up calling Emma in Canada…a rather expensive phone call, by the way. She was crazy helpful. She not only explained the benefits of the milk, but the benefits of continuing to breastfeed. So Jesse went out and bought us a supplemental nursing system (SNS). The SNS ended up bringing me to tears so many times that I gave up after a few weeks. It was so funny…there is a breastfeeding center at our local hospital. I called them in tears over the SNS once and they had me come in. Of course, for that feeding Asher latched on EVERY single time without a single solitary problem. I went home all excited. Started the next feeding and he refused….yet again.

I immediately hooked up with two wonderful milk mommies. I sit here crying at my computer just thinking about what they sacrificed to feed my son. We have had over 15 milk mommies who donated. Some moms lived so close we were able to use the milk before it was frozen. Some moms I couldn’t get a ton of info on so we would pasteurize their milk. I remember getting up in the night to pasteurize milk. Yes, I would much rather just have rolled over and nursed my son, but sometimes we don’t always get what we want. Instead I would nurse him for a total of 40 minutes and then pasteurize and then feed him his bottle. This was every 2 hours around the clock for many, many weeks.

He burped like a pro. His brother was so proud!

At his following appointments he was always in the 50th percentile for weight.

My son was able to use, almost exclusively, breast milk for the first 14 months of life. To me that is an absolute miracle. He has tons of antibodies he would have never gotten. He has tasted a variety of foods. By the way the old wives tale of babies not being able to tolerate certain foods was totally proven false to me through this experience. He never once had a single tummy ache from someone’s milk. He’s been protected from illnesses, infections, allergies, obesity, and so much more. We have traveled all over Michigan, and even Indiana to get milk. We even received milk from a lady from California, when she visited family in Michigan.

Here I am all these months later not having a clue how to thank these moms. Not only did they sit and feed their own babies, but they also sat and pumped for mine. Can you even imagine the amount of time this took? Every single one of these ladies was a stranger, except for one. They didn’t know me or my baby from Adam. Yet, they were willing to bring nourishment and love to my son. Isn’t that amazing?

I’m praying with all my heart that I will be able to feed my own baby next time, but if not I’ll know what to do. Thank you milk mommies for your sacrifice, your empathy, and mostly for loving my son!

A couple of my awesome milk moms.

Uriah...year 2

I can’t believe two years have passed since you’ve been in my arms.
It seems like only yesterday we turned off those alarms.

You felt so warm and heavy as you nestled in real near.
I knew the end was coming fast; my heart was full of fear.
I’d thought so often, for 40 weeks, about what you’d be like.
I figured you’d look like your dad, and act like mom for spite.

You did look like your daddy how you act we still don’t know,
but I suspect you’re full of spunk and put on quite the show.

We miss you more than words can say, and wish that you were here.
It seems there’s something missing and that something’s you my Dear.

I try to think about what you’d be like on earth.
Walking, talking, running too, and filling us with mirth.

Your sister’s an adult now and a beautiful young woman.
Your brother Abner’s growing tall and always full of fun.

Your little brother, Asher, has been a healing balm.
The Lord knew what we needed to feel a peaceful calm.

I wish with all my heart I could hold you on my knee,
and make you giggle, sing you songs, and fill your heart with glee.

I know you’re happy where you are and I won’t take that from you.
It’s just I miss you baby boy, and wish I were there too.

The time will come someday I know and we will be together.
The giggles, songs, and silliness will then last for forever.

I love you Uriah my little boy you’ll always be.
You’ll never know the peace and love that you have given me.

Remembering Uriah

Throughout the day today I have thought back to what was happening at that particular time 2 years ago. Waking up feeling little Uriah have strange hiccups. I remember the contractions starting, the epidural, giving birth, and the silence when Uriah was delivered. Oh how I hate remembering the silence. It’s not that I needed someone to say anything, or that I needed to talk. I needed to hear my baby cry. It never happened though.

I remember going into shock and my body shaking uncontrollably for 2 hours straight. I remember being wheeled into the NICU to see my son. I remember the sounds of the monitors, the hush of the staff working with him, how he smelled, and how he needed to be cleaned up. I asked the nurse if I could clean him. She told me it would be too much stimulation. She said I could touch him, but not to rub or pat him…again, too much stimuli. He felt so cold. I remember pulling my hand away. The nurse explained that they were lowering his body temperature in hopes of bringing back some brain activity. I remember the silence of the nurse when I asked if I should pump milk for him. Her silence told me the truth of what was really happening. I remember being scared, I remember wanting to run. I wanted to run far, far away. I didn’t want to be in that room with that cold baby. I asked to be taken to my room.

My room…not what I had envisioned. As they wheeled me into the room I saw what looked like a postcard on my door. The picture was of a green leaf with a teardrop in the middle. I didn’t know what it meant. I learned later it meant that I had a baby that had either died or was going to die. I remember the silence of my room. I could hear people talking and sniffling in other rooms, but no babies. I couldn’t hear the squeaky cries of a newborn. I remember the sadness. At that time I decided I wouldn’t go back. I couldn’t bear to see my baby that way. I wanted to remember him as I had dreamt about him, not as he was. Not with tubes and wires and needles. Not with dried gunk all over his body. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong. Why was this happening? This was not what I was supposed to be feeling.

My friend came to encourage me. She unfortunately understood how I was feeling. She knew what I NEEDED to do. She hauled my rear-end back to that NICU. I will never be able to thank her enough. She told me I needed to make memories…she was right. By the time I went to bed that night I was one hopeful mommy. I had pumped milk for my baby. I had prayed for my baby. I knew my God was the Great Physician. I KNEW he could heal Uriah. I went to bed with hope in my heart.

When I pray I try to always say, “Lord I only want this if this is what You want.” It’s a very difficult thing to say and mean. That day 2 years ago was the most difficult it had ever been.

Have you ever looked through a keyhole in an old house? Imagine for a minute peering through that hole. Can you see that huge king size bed with silk sheets and draperies hanging from the four huge bedposts? What about that ginormous garden tub in the corner surrounded by plants and candles? The little reading nook in the back is so unique. There are pillows everywhere and books lining the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The sunshine streaming through the windows makes you wonder if you want to take a nap in its warmth or read a book by its light. Isn’t it beautiful? I could spend a month in there without ever wanting to leave…especially if my favorite foods were delivered. ;o) The problem lies in our view. It’s only through that stinkin’ keyhole.

God looks from above and can see the bedbugs lying in wait for a warm body. He sees the mold under the paint that will cause our lungs to burn. He hears the rats as they run through the walls. He knows this is not the room for us. He loves us too much to give us a room like that. So he steers us away. Some of us cling to that doorknob as if our life depends on it. Some of us look back longingly. Some of us follow reluctantly. Some of us run to follow Him. I will admit right now. I didn’t run to follow Him, but I knew whatever He decided was what was best for me. Why? Because He loves me completely. I don’t know what Uriah’s future on earth may have been. What if it was full of pain? I would much rather he was safely in heaven with my Savior waiting for me, than to have him suffer at all on this earth. Why? Because I love him completely. The best thing in all of this is I get to spend eternity with him. Not only that, but I now have another little boy that would have NEVER been had Uriah lived. Oh, Asher is such a joy! Yes, he is a typical 1 year old that makes me want to pull my hair out at times, but he is exactly what I needed. He is exactly what my Father wanted me to have. He is my hope.

Sorry I needed to vent!!!!!

I have to vent.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of not getting answers.

I’m tired of people not caring.

I’m tired of my poor daughter being in pain.

I’m tired of the medical field not doing anything to change this.

What do I need to do?

With whom do I need to talk?

I will not give up.

I will find a way to help her get better.

Tonight my friend and neighbor stopped by to give me a gift. I also babysit for her two days a week. She is a nurse at the hospital Phebe was in this last week. She worked Thursday and would stop by Phebe’s room to check on her, and then would text me to let me know how Phebe was doing. Adrienne is an absolute angel. She knew I couldn’t get up to see Phebe so she wanted to keep me informed. After she left this evening Phebe said, “I know dat voice. She da nice lady.”

I said, “Yes, Adrienne IS very nice. We love her.”

Phebe replied, “She da only one who nice to me when you not there in hopital.”

My daughter has the mind of a 2 year old. Yes, she is in the body of an 18 year old, but that doesn’t change the fact that her mind isn’t. Can someone please explain to me why you wouldn’t treat her kindly? Three of the four days she was there she couldn’t even lift her head. It wasn’t until the last day that she was able to sit up and start talking again. So why not just treat her kindly? She wasn’t hurting anyone. She wasn’t being abusive. She wasn’t swearing or throwing things. She just had a hard time moving and couldn’t talk clearly.

She has been in pain for months. Her blood clots very strangely. Her tongue looks like white fur. She is now getting blisters all over her body for the second time. These blisters are huge and VERY painful. She can only swallow liquids and struggles with that. Sometimes when her skin gets wet it falls off. If she has a cut on her body it won’t heal or it takes months to heal. The doctors tell me there’s nothing wrong with her. It’s all in her head. The last time she was covered with blisters the doctor told me she was burning herself. Really???

I want to go to one of these doctors’ homes with my daughter and drop her off. I’ll pin a note to her saying to please return her when she is whole. I have been trying for 8 months to fix her and I am failing big time.

It isn’t fair.

It isn’t right.

The saddest part in all of this is that I adopted her from Haiti in hopes of making her life better. I feel like she would have been better off never coming to America.

I feel like I have failed her.

I feel like an awful mom.

This all needs to change and now!

Someone please help me help my daughter.

Book review for Heaven is for Real for Kids

I was recently given the opportunity to review Heaven is for Real for Kids. This is a very good book. I had already read the adult version and couldn’t wait to get my hands on this one. This book is written as if little Colton is telling the story. He is very clear and excited about what he remembers from his visit to heaven.

I wanted this book for my daughter. She is 18 years old but has regressed back to a small child. Heaven and God really fascinate her right now so when I showed her this book she was thrilled. I read it to her and all throughout the book she would point things out or ask a question. She learned many new things from this book. At the end of the book there is a FAQ section that answered a lot of her questions. I personally loved the art work in the book, but she didn’t care for it. She said she would rather see things drawn more clearly.

I also loved the book…probably just as much as my daughter. As a mother I think it is very important to show our children how wonderful heaven will be. So many times my children have said that heaven sounds boring and they aren’t sure they will enjoy it once they get there. After reading this book I highly doubt that will be the case!

I received a copy of “Heaven is for Real for Kids” from Booksneeze.com

One Proud Momma!!

Today I will write about something that many people will attempt to judge. I really truly couldn’t care less. Judge away my friends…oh wait…If you’re judging you are no friend of mine!

I am sooooooooooooooo proud of my son Abner. I MUST tell as many people as possible. He has always had a special place in my heart. I had decided to abort him when I found out I was pregnant with him, but at the last minute changed my mind. He is the first person I have ever met that is a blood relative of mine. He is not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, he causes me to sigh and holler many times throughout the day. He also has made me laugh every day since he has been born. He is only 12 years old, but he has saved the lives of 3 different people as of today. So often I hear people ask what their purpose in life might be. This is a question Abner will never need to ask himself!

So this is where you will really have an opportunity to judge…ready?

When Abner was a baby I went through a very deep depression. I was so depressed I couldn’t think of a single solitary reason in the world to live any longer. I planned how I would end my life many times. When he was barely 2 I had decided that day was the last day I would be on this earth. I put him and his 8 year old sister to bed. I waited until about 3 o’clock in the morning and I went to the kitchen and found one of my favorite bowls. I then went and got every pill in the house. I poured those pills quietly into the bowl. Then I went and filled a glass full of ice water. I walked down the hall and checked to make sure both kids were still sound asleep. ..they were. I then went to the kitchen and told myself this was the best thing for everyone. I took a handful of pills and grabbed the water. I then heard a sound behind me. It was Abner. He said, “Momma what doing?”

I said, “Nothing Honey…why are you up? You are supposed to be sleeping. Come on, let momma tuck you back into your bed.”

He said, “Momma, I not gonna sleep in my bed…I sleep in momma’s bed.”


“Abner Joseph, you WILL sleep in your bed. Now get moving!”

“NO!”

Now let me explain a little something here. I have NEVER allowed my children to tell me “no.” He knew this was cause for a spanking. “Abner, Mommy is not kidding…GO!”


“NO!”

So I caved. I crawled into my bed with my little boy and fell asleep. My plan was to wait until he was asleep and go and finish what I had started. I never woke up until my daughter woke me up so she could go to school the following morning. I must now admit that I was very angry with Abner, but soon was very grateful! That little boy saved my life. He has never one time since that night told me “no” again. :o)

When Abner was 5 we went as a family to some friend’s house to go swimming and have a cookout. Abner quickly went down to the pool. There were a few other families there, and one that had a little boy about 8 years old. The two boys were all alone. The 8 year old was in the pool and Abner was walking around the pool. I looked down to check on Abner and noticed the other boy was drowning. I screamed, “He’s drowning!” Two of the men started running down the steps of the deck to get to the pool. Abner turned and walked to grab the pool skimmer. He went down the steps on the deep end of the pool and held the skimmer out to the boy and pulled him to the edge of the pool. He had saved the boy before the adults had even reached the pool. He was so calm and acted as if he had taken some sort of lifeguard training in preschool. I was so proud of him!

Today he did it again. My daughter Phebe has had some odd and very strange problems this year. As of late, she sometimes doesn’t know who she is or who any of us are. Today was one of those days. She woke from a nap not having a clue who any of us were. She somehow got outside even though we generally lock the house down. I did everything I could think of to get her in the house. I finally called for Abner and had him go hide behind a tree so that if she darted towards the busy road he could grab her. Praise the Lord I thought of this. It wasn’t 10 minutes later and she was running. I screamed for Abner to tackle her. She was running as fast as she could into the road completely unaware there was a car going at least 55 miles per hour less than a quarter block from her. He got her down only to have her get free and start running again. I looked and there was another car coming from the other direction going even faster. I knew she was going to die. I screamed, “ABNER YOU HAVE TO TACKLE HER!” I was running but felt as if I was running in slow motion. He tried to grab her shirt and missed. I heard him let out this sound of fear and defeat. He also knew his sister was going to die in about 4 seconds. I screamed “ABNER PLEASE!” it was as if his speed almost doubled and he was suddenly on top of her. I soon was on top of both of them. It took us another hour to convince her to go in the house, but Abner had done it yet again.

I will never ever ever be able to tell Abner how much I love him, nor how proud I am of him. I had planned on having an abortion when I found out I was pregnant with him. Can you imagine?

Thank you Lord for your hand of protection and for giving me a son that I needed more than I even realized!



Yes he is walking on the ceiling.

Being a goof...as usual!

Yes he got in trouble for this!

Simple Woman's Daybook 10-10-11

Outside my window…is a beautiful quiet darkness.

I am thinking…that heaven seems sweeter and sweeter each day.

I am thankful...for the Indian summer we’ve been enjoying.

From the kitchen...was homemade split pea soup and yeast rolls.

I am wearing...a heavy heart.

I am remembering...what my dad’s voice sounded like.

I am going...to visit my dad in the hospital tomorrow. He just suffered a stroke.

I am praying…my younger siblings as they hold down the fort.

On my mind…is how I wish I would have called my dad Saturday.

I am hearing...the whirl of the fan in the window.

Around the house...are lots of pieces of Cheerios.

Noticing that….I love my life!

Pondering these words…"I love you more”

One of my favorite things...the beautiful colors God gives us in the fall.

A picture thought…I received this card in the mail from my dad 2 days before his stroke. It’s probably the last thing he wrote me in his old handwriting.