Breastfeeding Saved My Daughter’s Life

In 2004, I gave birth to a very healthy 9 pound and 4 ounce baby girl. After seven weeks of maternity leave, I returned to work. I worked a very demanding Information Technology job as a Data Center Supervisor where I was on call 24 hours a day 7 days a week as well as going to school for four hours in the evenings twice a week. I slept with my Blackberry under my pillow because I received calls and texts all hours of the night regarding processes that went wrong. Through it all, I was faithfully breastfeeding my daughter.

The same year I was pregnant with my daughter, nine women in my department were also expecting. This created an immediate need for a lactation room at work. As soon as I returned from maternity leave, I eagerly signed up to pump twice a day. At lunch I would visit my daughter at daycare a mere 2 miles from my job and nurse her in the rocking chair. After about six months of trying to manage it all, the stress started to impact my milk supply. I was filling less bottles and though I’m sure no one would dare admit it, there was a little lactation competition going on between the moms.

While my manager was generally supportive of my nursing, she was equally annoyed that I wasn’t always available when she needed and finally, she confronted me about it. My manager had breastfed all four of her children and though she was sympathetic, she asked how much longer I was planning to continue. I told her my plans were to nurse for at least a year but recently, I had been spending more time in the lactation room trying desperately to keep up with demand and failing miserably. She suggested I supplement with formula and that I start immediately. 

I reluctantly bought formula at lunch and brought it the daycare for my daughter’s feeding. I figured I should be the one to give her the first bottle of this foreign food. My baby took two eager gulps of formula, paused, looked right into my eyes and after a moment continued to drink. She completed the entire bottle and drifted to sleep. After about five minutes, her eyes opened widely, then she sat up and violently vomited across the room. While the staff hurriedly cleaned up spewed formula, I held my daughter’s limp body and frantically tried to wake her. She didn’t look right. I put my daughter in her carseat and told them I was taking her to the hospital, believing that was I was faster than an ambulance. 

By the time I entered the ER, she was purple and her facial features had changed. In a panicked state I explained what happened. As the nurse took my daughter’s vitals, I remarked that, “My baby doesn’t look like my baby anymore. She looks wrong. That’s not my baby’s nose or mouth. Everything has changed!” The nurse looked at me as if to judge whether I had the problem or my child. However, vitals speak louder than words and hers were not quite right.

The original 3-second diagnosis was that my daughter had Fifth’s Disease, despite the information I provided about the formula that I was now sure had been poisoned. After 35 eternal minutes of waiting, the doctor arrived, took one look at my daughter’s limp purple body sprawled on the bed and ran out of the room. I could hear a flurry of excitement in the hallway and the doctor yelling to staff bring things immediately. She hurried back in the room to explain to me that my daughter was experiencing anaphylaxis. I was relieved that finally someone shared my since of urgency. 

After treatment with antihistamine and epinephrine, my daughter slowly returned to the face I recognized. My daughter had a severe allergic reaction to dairy and/or soy which caused swelling in her face and throat, eventually restricting her breathing. After our trip to the hospital, we had her allergy tested by a pediatric pulmonary specialist.  Ultimately, they determined she was allergic to dairy, soy, eggs, wheat, peanuts and tree nuts.  I knew that breastfeeding was now more important than ever. I worked hard to get my milk supply up and after about a week, the milk factory was fully functional and I was able to keep up with high demand. 

I successfully breastfed my daughter for thirteen months. During that time, I introduced her to home prepared rice cereal, several fruits and vegetables, as well as meats. This was just the beginning of my journey as a mom of a food allergic kid and kickstarted my desire to take control of the situation by starting an urban farm.