Pumping Saved My Baby's Life and Mine

The Suzy Hunt Story
Written by Gina Trillo for Suzy Hunt

I sat beside my son’s incubator for seven weeks.
He had tubes everywhere.
A machine helped him breath.
His little body was so small I could have held him in the palm of my hand.
As a mother I would have done anything for my child. But I felt helpless.
So as I stroked his tiny fingers, I did what I could—I pumped breast milk.
The doctors said it would help save his life. So I did it, even though I’d never been successful in breastfeeding my two other children. I knew little Ryan needed it almost as much as he needed all those antibiotics flowing through his tubes. And I needed to do something, anything, to feel like I was helping my baby.

A Tough Pregnancy

For five years my husband and I tried to have a third child. So when little Ryan was conceived our excitement was greater than a kid on Christmas morning receiving exactly what he dreamed about.
Turns out my son would be a holiday baby. He was born in December. But my pregnancy was anything but a vacation. At 19 weeks, the doctor performed an emergency cerclage, sewing my cervix shut. It was thinning at a rapid rate. I wasn’t even six months pregnant when tests showed I was at high-risk of going into labor in the next couple weeks, before my baby was even viable. By 28 weeks, my water broke and I was rushed to the hospital, which would become my new home for a while. The doctors gave me antibiotics and magnesium, trying to stave off labor and infection. But at 31 weeks, when my family came to my hospital room to throw me a Christmas party, the contractions started.

Needless to say, the party ended early. There was hardly a celebratory mood as nurses rushed me into the operating room; no Christmas carols, only prayers.

They took Ryan by C-section. I only got to see him for a brief moment. I didn’t even get to touch him before a neo-natal intensive care nurse whisked him away. My husband, Scott, quickly followed behind our son.

Meanwhile, as the doctor patched me up, my arterial vein burst. I began to bleed out. The doctors started working furiously. The nurses moved frantically. I needed a blood transfusion. I was afraid, for my baby, even more than for my own health. As I struggled to maintain consciousness, I begged God to save little Ryan’s life. Eventually, I passed out.

I remember waking up in a hospital bed, groggy and disoriented. But I had enough wits about me to ask about my baby. I just wanted to hold him.

But that would not be possible. Little Ryan was down the hall in the NICU fighting for his life. I could barely sit up, but I insisted the hospital staff take me to see my baby. Once my heart rate stabilized, the nurses agreed to wheel me to down to the NIC-U. They couldn’t push that wheelchair fast enough. When I entered the room, all I could do was sob. My child was so weak and frail. But I felt even more helpless. What could I do to help him fight through this? My heart ached for a solution.

The Breast Milk Solution

I don’t have a strong recollection of all the conversations with the doctors. The fog of the pain killers created a blur as I tried to physically recover and also cope with the fact that my son was lying in an incubator. According to my sister, the doctors told me my baby’s life depended on my ability to provide him with breast milk.

That sent me into a whirlwind of panic. With my two other children, I tried to breastfeed, but I failed miserably. I couldn’t get them to latch on. When I tried to pump, I could never relax enough to squeak out more than an ounce or two a sitting. But now little Ryan depended on me coming through.

My sister, who is the mother of twins, also had problems pumping. She read every book she could find, searched out any tips that might help, and tried every product she could get her hands on. Finally she found a hands-free pumping bra she said was a life-saver. It’s called Easy Expression. But I knew there wasn’t going to be anything easy about my milk production.

I decided to give it a try anyway. After all, I would’ve done anything to help little Ryan.

This pumping bra isn’t a nursing bra. As I examined it, I saw it was a bustier with two holes in it. It holds the breast pump flanges in place so I didn’t have to. I heard somewhere if I touched my baby while pumping, it would help me to relax, and help with my let-down reflex. Since my hands were now free, I decided to test the theory. It’s called kangaroo care.

I was tense at first, with my past failures in the back of my mind. But I focused on my baby; and the first time I was able to pump a few ounces. I thought, “Not bad for someone who’s not so good at this pumping thing.” The nurses were able to take the breast milk I produced and push it through a syringe.

After weeks of pumping, and enduring the stress and worry about whether I was doing enough for the health of my child, I felt like I had a huge victory under my belt. Ryan was growing stronger by the day, and I was grateful my breast pump bra helped me help my son. Eventually, I became a pumping pro. The Easy Expression Hands-Free Pumping Bra allowed me to pump while I held Ryan’s hand in the incubator, enjoyed a cup of coffee or updated friends and family of Ryan’s progress on the phone or via email. I could relax while I did it, which seemed to be the magic trick that helped me produce milk.

I’ve never been one to push a product, but this is something I tell all my girlfriends about. And now I’ve even signed on to be a manufacturer’s representative for Easy Expression. I want other moms to have the same helping-hand I had. My sister said it was a life-saver for her. It really was for my family.

A Year Later

When Ryan Scott was born, he weighed three pounds, six ounces. Today he is a strong, healthy boy who loves to smile, play with cars and throw balls. He even babbles and mumbles some words. And he’s got some teeth now. Last year it was hard to even imagine we would be at this point. I am thankful every day for our “normal” life.

After all I endured, overcoming my emotional and physical limitations that came along with my producing breast milk, the doctors say I helped save Ryan’s life. But really, I know it’s the other way around. I see that great little smile, or hear that sweet laugh and I know, he has really saved mine.

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