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Written by: Amanda (former patient)

When I was 23 weeks pregnant I was sent straight to the hospital from a routine appointment with my OB when she discovered my blood pressure had severely risen and I was showing symptoms of pre-eclampsia. I spent three weeks on the antenatal unit just hoping we could manage my blood pressure for long enough to give my baby a chance. At this point, I knew I would never make it to term, and started reading everything I could about premature babies. This was when I first learned that Ontario had a milk bank.

There was no question in my mind that I wanted my baby to have breastmilk. I had already read about all the benefits for a term baby, and now my reading showed that it was even more important for premature babies, even lifesaving, significantly reducing the risk of NEC, the leading cause of death in preemies. When I had a c-section on January 27th, 2014, at 26 weeks + 1 day gestation, I was asking staff for consent forms for donor milk right away, before they even had a chance to bring it up.

I was so worried about my milk coming in. I was still very sick, and couldn't start pumping right away. I saw only a brief glimpse of my son, who we named Cole, when he was born, and didn't see him again for more than a day. And when I finally met him, I could touch him in his incubator, but I couldn't take him out or hold him or do precious skin-to-skin time. (He was a month old when I first successfully held him.) Cole was very sick himself, being born so young and small, and that was a significant stressor for me too. I knew that all of those factors would make it more difficult for me to produce the milk he needed.

But because of the milk bank and kind donors, Cole got the milk he needed even when I couldn't produce it. I was lucky, and my milk came in within a few days. We needed donor milk only for a short period to cover the gap. But even that short period is so important. Cole weighed only 1lb 10oz when he was born - he was far too small to wait even that short period for my milk to come in. In my emotional state after his birth, I cried many times in relief at having received donor milk and when my own milk came in. This was not just a gift of milk - it was also a gift of community and caring, knowing that there were other mothers out there who would help my family and my baby, without even meeting us.

The first place I met other moms in the NICU was in the pump room. Pumping milk for our babies, we would chat, sharing stores and commiserating. Many of us struggled with supply. We were so stressed about our babies, and so stressed about having enough milk for them. Some mothers never produced enough milk, and the feeling of failing at one of the few things in your power to help your child was intense. Having donor milk for several weeks certainly eased the burden, knowing our babies got the best start possible.

I pumped 7-9 times a day during the first four months, and then dropped to 6-7 times a day. I joked that it was unfair - my son, being tube fed, could sleep through a feeding, and as he got older he often did. That meant he was sleeping for a 5-6 hour stretch at night and I was doing a maximum of three hours of sleep to get up and pump for him - lazy bones!

I loved when he started to grow and put on weight - chin first, with a Jabba the Hutt phase, slowly developing pudgy cheeks, little baby fat rolls on his arms and legs, dimples on his hands and feet, and finally even a round bum. We worked hard for every ounce. When the nurses found it hard to get an IV in, they didn't dare complain- it was an accomplishment on Cole's part that he was finally chubby enough to give them trouble.

Cole had no idea he was a sick baby. He didn't look or act sick, and we got treasured moments with a bright, happy, interactive, cuddly baby, who wanted nothing more than to snuggle in your arms and take a nap with Dad, or babble out a story to Mom. But he was very sick, and on July 11th, 2014, he died of complications from his premature birth.

I had a lot of milk frozen at the NICU, waiting for Cole. I couldn't imagine it going to waste, and I was very glad that I could donate it, and Cole's milk could go on to help another baby. The staff who did my intake were gentle and appreciative. Many of the moms I met in the NICU went on to 'pay it forward' and donated milk too.

After Cole died, and my milk had dried up, I was left with a few last bottles in my freezer at home. I was grieving, and arranging to deliver it or have it picked up was too much for me, and it really was just a few ounces. But I couldn't bear to throw it out. The value of that milk was so great in my mind that I simply couldn't let it go. It is expired now... but still sitting in my freezer, symbolically reminding me of my time in the NICU.

One day, I hope I have another child. And I hope this time I can deliver a healthy baby at term. But it is incredibly comforting to know that if I don't, if something goes wrong again, the Milk Bank will be there, ensuring my baby has every chance. And either way, I look forward to again donating milk - a mother's most precious gift.

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