When I became a mother, I imagined lullabies, late-night cuddles, and lots of laughter. I never imagined I’d miss so many of those moments from a hospital bed. If you’re a mom recovering from a serious illness and feel disconnected from your baby, know this: it’s not too late to rebuild that bond.
That’s exactly what I learned after falling ill. When I became pregnant for the first time, I developed Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy (PUPPS), during my last trimester of pregnancy. The rash affects one out of every 160 first-time mothers. Although I experienced a healthy pregnancy up until that point, I was suddenly covered in hives. I was itching everywhere–arms, stomach, back, hips, thighs and legs. I could not take Benadryl because of the adverse risk it could have caused my baby. Taking a shower irritated the rash even more. Thankfully, the rash disappeared after I gave birth. I brought my daughter home with hopes of a beautiful future. After my maternity leave, I went back to work as a Clinical Laboratory Scientist in a local hospital’s chemistry and toxicology department.
A Sudden and Mysterious Illness
When my daughter was seven months old, I developed a strange rash that quickly spread over my entire body. Fearful of spreading an unknown illness, I stopped holding, cuddling and kissing her. My heart broke every time I pulled away. Within a week, I was so weak that I had to go to the hospital. My daughter reached for me as I left, and I cried, unable to comfort her.
The doctors isolated me, unsure of what was happening. My body began to shut down. I developed mouth sores, constant nosebleeds and eventually bled from almost every part of my body. I missed my baby desperately. Friends and family cared for her while I fought for my life.
Long Days Without My Baby
After a week passed, I called my daughter’s father and asked him to take me to the hospital while my mother watched our baby. I cried as I left, because my daughter was reaching her arms out for me, but I could not touch her. At the hospital, my urine sample was a weird orange color, and my body was weak. The hospital staff immediately isolated me. While in isolation, everyone who entered the room wore gloves, disposable gowns and face masks. I didn’t mind this, because I did not know what was wrong with me and didn’t want to infect anyone else. The doctors gave me intravenous Benadryl to help relieve the itching, took blood samples and performed countless tests.
Within a week, I developed sores in my mouth and bled uncontrollably from my nose. My thoughts were always on my daughter; I missed her so much. Luckily, I had a village of family and friends who took turns watching and caring for her. Within two weeks, family members brought my daughter to the hospital lobby to see me. The nurses cleaned me up and placed me in a wheelchair so we could go downstairs. They packed my nose with gauze and put a large bandage under my nose to help prevent another nosebleed. I was so excited when I saw my daughter and wanted to reach out and grab her. She looked at me in a familiar way but seemed unsure of who I was. That broke my heart, but I understood and was hopeful for the future.
My best friend gave me a picture she had taken of my daughter and me when I was healthy. I kept that picture on my nightstand the entire time I lay in the hospital. No one knew at that time, including the doctors, that I would end up hospitalized for three months. I prayed and stayed focused on getting stronger and better, despite multiple setbacks, including blood infections and seizures. I did not see my daughter crawl for the first time or get her first tooth. Family and friends would record the milestones and show me the videos during their visits. I smiled and cried while watching, realizing how much I missed her.
Meanwhile, I began to bleed from every opening on my body, except my ears. I stopped walking and lost the function of my left arm and hand. My friend’s mother brought my daughter to visit me. By then, I was in the intensive care unit (ICU). My nurses cleaned the bed railings and covered all my IV lines with a blanket so my baby could come inside my room. Seeing her brought me such joy. My baby was healthy and happy. My daughter’s dad, my friends and my family took care of her in my absence.
I was hospitalized for three months, including my 24th birthday, which I celebrated in the ICU. During that time, I received:
- 102 units of blood
- Multiple skin biopsies
- A bone marrow biopsy
- A bacteria caused by the lines that were inserted into my veins to give me medicine. This bacteria entered my blood system and was hard to get rid of.
Finally, a Diagnosis
The medical team finally diagnosed me with a life-threatening, autoimmune-like response disease known as Hemophagocytic syndrome. It is unknown how I acquired this, since it’s uncommon and not hereditary. Doctors presumed I was exposed to the Epstein-Barr Virus (EBV) while working in a chemistry lab, and it caused my immune system to see my platelets as foreign. I couldn’t clot, so I continuously bled. Experts from multiple specialties reviewed my case and evaluated me personally. When the bleeding and infections stopped, I was discharged. Then the real work began. I underwent weeks of physical and occupational therapy to learn how to walk again and establish full functionality of my left arm and hand. I was at home, but my daughter looked at me as if I was a stranger. I was too weak to take care of her. Each day, I became stronger and worked harder.
How I Bonded With My Baby Again
To bond with my baby again, she had to be left alone with me in a room with no one else around for her to crawl to or reach out for. Scared, she cried for someone to take her. This saddened my heart, but I remained optimistic. I was out of the hospital and reunited with my baby. I missed many things, but I was able to witness her taking her first steps. That was a huge step in my recovery.
I lost 85% of my hair while in the hospital, so I wore scarves and wigs until my hair started to grow back. By doing this, my daughter could look at my face instead of a balding head. I would hold her tight and speak softly to her. Although she did not recognize me physically, she recognized my voice.
I stayed home with her for three months. Over time, I regained my physical strength and our bond also grew stronger. I reconnect with my baby by doing a few important things.
- Start with Your Voice
Talk, sing, or read aloud. Babies recognize familiar sounds, even if faces feel unfamiliar.
- Use Gentle Touch
Begin with soft touches, cuddles, or simply holding their hand. Physical contact rebuilds safety and love.
- Spend Time Alone Together
Short one-on-one sessions help your baby focus on you without distractions.
- Mirror Their Cues
Respond to your baby’s emotions, facial expressions, and sounds to reestablish emotional trust.
- Create Daily Routines
Feeding, bathing, and reading together each day can form strong, new bonds.
- Be Patient and Gentle With Yourself
Your healing and your baby’s trust take time. Celebrate small wins. Give yourself grace if rebonding takes longer than you expected.
- Lean on Your Village
Ask loved ones for help so you can focus on reconnecting emotionally.
Twenty Years Later
My daughter is now 20-years-old and does not remember the time we spent apart. We are now very close with an unbreakable bond. Perhaps in part due to the separation. I tell her why I fought to live then and how she still means so much to me. She tells me she is happy that she could personally know me and not just learn about me through stories and pictures. I even had another child–a son. The illness never returned. However, I now manage unrelated symptoms due to Multiple Sclerosis. I received the diagnosis five years after my traumatic hospital stay.
If you’re a mom who is currently ill and unable to bond with your baby right away, I encourage you to take a deep breath. Exhale your worries, and inhale the possibilities. Stay focused on your ultimate goal, and remember that strength, dedication, determination, faith and resilience will lead you to your desired outcome. You might have missed the first milestone or special moments. But the memories you make will be much more special.
Anchored in Faith
My faith and support system was instrumental during my time in the hospital and beyond. After being released, I followed up with doctors for two years. My daughter is the reason why I fought through the painful and unknown times while I laid in the hospital beds. Thoughts of her are what fueled my energy during the recurring blood infections and seizures.
Waking up to tubes in my throat and seeing the machine breathing for me during the times that I coded, I prayed relentlessly and talked to God. I trusted that He would never fail me. I knew that He would allow me to go home, one day. I didn’t cry until my 9th week in the hospital. I told God that I was tired of laying on my back. I told him that I don’t doubt him and kept listening to scriptures. When I felt weak, He made me strong. I repeated Isaiah 53:5 , “Through your stripes, we are healed.” I sought Him, and a month later, He answered my prayers and reunited me with my baby. I knew that I never would have made it through everything that I went through without God by my side. I knew that I had to keep God first in my life in order to push forward and through anything that I encountered. Never doubt the power of God and what he will do.
Even if your journey looks different from others, the bond you share with your baby can still be deep, meaningful, and unbreakable.
