We all know the popular stories of how long chickens can run around without their heads or how frogs can keep kicking after being killed, but have you heard about the mother who lasted 2 years without a heart? She didn’t believe it was possible either, but here she is 730 days later, still waking up and pushing through the days, despite the gaping hole in her chest. A medical mystery.
There are so many parts of me that died with Greyson that day, two years ago. Parts that I will never get back. And one of those parts, feels to be my heart. The gruesome ripping of my heart out of my chest the moment I heard the words, “no heart beat” to the following days where each cell and nerve were slowly severed one by one with a dull, rusty and serrated knife, couldn’t have possibly left me with anything else to work with. Only, I’ve heard the saying before, that grief is just immense love with no where to go. So, is it possible to love without a heart? There have been many moments where someone is talking to me about their miniscule problem, as if it matters, while I am screaming in my head, “WHO FUCKING CARES?! I LOST MY SON, NONE OF YOUR PROBLEMS COMPARE!!”, and I feel like the old Janet, the one with the big heart, no longer lives here anymore. I remember telling my mom about these feelings, and she told me not to let my grief destroy my empathy. To not let this hurt overcome my heart for others. I didn’t have it in me to tell her the truth. I had in fact lost my heart. It died alongside my son. Things don’t make me cry like they used to. I don’t stress as much as I used to. And I no longer fear death. I already died on November 7th, 2021. The rest of this shell that is wandering around the earth, is just waiting to be reunited with my heart, my son.
So, put me in the Guinness books and put me on display. A medical mystery. The woman who lives without a heart.
The conversation was quick and felt unimportant. But it wasn’t. It was one of the most important things another human would say to me. “Your breasts will get engorged. Just wear a tight bra and use ice packs.” That was the end of the nonchalant statement. It was lost in the other discharge instructions that included choosing a funeral home for our child we wouldn’t be going home with. The reality was, engorged was an understatement. It was painful and so incredibly emotional. Why didn’t my body know we had failed? Why was it betraying me by making milk for a child we didn’t need to feed? The following days were spent doing all the things that my mom, sisters and Google had to offer about halting milk production. I smelled like cabbage and breast milk and spent hours alone in a cold shower to ease the pain and slow production. Breastfeeding had always been important to me, and I dreamed of the day when I would get those precious bonding moments with my son, nourishing him from my body. Sustaining his life with my own. But now, it was (literally) a painful reminder, that I could never do that for him. Never have those moments in the middle of the night, when I was the only one who could quiet his cries. After a few days of drinking the bitter herbal teas and doing all the things, I was desperate for something else to guide me. So, I did what any practical modern mother would do, and I turned to my local mommy Facebook group for guidance.
I was looking for something. I think a part of me knew what, but my conscious mind did not. Then, within a few hours, my answer came in the form of another nonchalant comment. This one, was the other part of that “not-important-but-important” conversation that was started in that hospital room a few days prior. Another mother commented, that she knew it wasn’t for everyone but had I thought about milk donation? The light went on, and I felt a little seed of hope was planted. The milk bank she recommended was Mother’s Milk Bank, and they answered on the first ring. My wary questions and nervous energy were met with kindness, patience and the answer to my prayers. They gave me the permission to follow what my heart was telling me, and to honor my son in a beautiful way, that only I could do. I would donate his milk to another baby, maybe one who was struggling in the ICU and who wasn’t ready to be called home yet. I would be able to give another mother a sigh of relief that her baby was getting what she maybe couldn’t give them. Maybe also having those feelings of body betrayal. I could make a positive impact and honor my son’s life.
After a short discussion with my husband, we knew that this was the path for us. My sister swapped my tea to Mother’s Milk, gave me a bowl of oatmeal and threw away the cabbage. And so, started my journey of milk donation. I had a new mission. A new reason for getting out of bed. A sprout of this growing need to honor my son. I spent the next month, pumping every 3-4 hours and taking the moments alone to process and heal. Tears of cathartic release running down my cheeks as I imagined Greyson looking down and saying, “good job mommy”. It turned out to be one of the most beautiful and healing experiences of my life. Was I still a wreck? Yes. Did I still have moments where I didn’t think I could take another breath from missing my son? Absolutely. But, it helped. All because one mom had the courage to say “have you thought about it?”.
Mother’s Milk Bank is the oldest non-profit milk bank in North America. Founded in 1974 and licensed in 1986, they are dedicated to making sure that medically vulnerable babies in 80% of the NICU’s in California and other Western states, including Hawaii and Alaska, have access to safe human milk.1. Human milk is scientifically proven to be best for babies to foster a nutrient rich start to their lives. Affiliated with Human Milk Banking Association of North America (HMBANA), they provide safe and pasteurized milk that is in accordance with the FDA food processing requirements1. For more on donating or being a milk recipient, please visit https://mothersmilk.org/
References
Making breast milk available to as many families as possible! Mothers’ Milk Bank. (n.d.). Retrieved March 3, 2023, from https://mothersmilk.org/
My first pump attempt
My first full bag!!
By the end, my little milk factory was in full swing
This was just the freezer door worth of milk I had stored up. In total, I ended up donating 108oz of breast milk to The Mother’s Milk Bank in honor of my little nugget.
Janet & Co. 