The infant I delivered by VBAC
and then emotionally rejected. During those first weeks mired in a pit of postpartum depression, I was convinced she wasn’t my child and the hospital gave me the wrong baby. My breasts and my milk kept her alive, even though my brain was unglued and I was disconnected from her. It was in the middle of a late-night feed when she turned her head and looked at me in the eye did I fall in love with her.