Breastfeed in public while preserving your modesty

Today is a tough day for me. It is the tenth birthday of my third child, Isabella. Of the losses of all my children, in many ways, the loss of Isabella hurts the worse.

I saw Isabella last on March 6, 2004, five and a half years ago. I never thought that would be the last time I would lay eyes on her. She was conceived during a time of great turmoil in my life...I was raped by a neighbor right after I had gotten divorced. I was devastated over the pregnancy and feared losing her as I had lost my other girls to my former husband. I was diagnosed with lupus when I was about four weeks pregnant with her and had a tumultuous pregnancy wrought with great health problems. As far as the pregnancy was concerned, things were great and I was relatively comfortable. But my body insisted I needed no red blood cells and the moment they were created, my body killed them. I had a hemoglobin of about 6.0. I was quite ill.

I was in college full time finishing my Bachelor of Arts degree in Psychology at Florida State University. I lived in a rural county about an hour from the campus and I was required to drive a round trip of two hours daily! I was faithful in attending each day, but I was so sick, I am still at a loss as to how I did it. In my fifth month, I had a large blood transfusion, which was only a temporary and insufficient solution to my active disease. I was put on Prednisone, which did my baby a whole lot of good. She was born 19 days early at a healthy 7 pounds, 1 ounce, 20 3/4 inches long on November 10, 1999. I moved to Tallahassee that same week.

I breastfed her and she was a breast baby through and through. Our bond was so extensive it was difficult for me to leave her for any length of time. I left work twice a day to nurse her at her day school. There was another baby there, Alex, who was born the same day, just a few hours later. Alex and Isabella were tight friends. Alex's mother was Isabella's primary caretaker and teacher, as she owned the facility, which taught education up through primary school.

Isabella was a friend to all and loved so many people and so deeply. She was funny, intelligent, friendly and incredibly compassionate. She was loved by many people. When I lost her, there were many tears of grief and anger throughout the county.

But my ex-husband and his family plotted to remove me from the privilege of raising my children. Because I was involved in a child support battle with her natural father, the rapist who I did not report for the crime, the authorities knew that by law the child would have to go with him during the custody battles. She had never met him before, that she could remember. She never needed a daddy as mommy was quite sufficient. She was so depressed over the separation, she turned inward and refused to interact with anyone. She started throwing temper tantrums and my mother-in-law said she was "spoiled", which she never was. My heart broke at the news. I had been forced to abandon her, but I wanted more than anything else to just visit her, and I was not even allowed a visit.

When she spent her last morning at her school, she was four years old. Her teacher said "good-bye" to her on her knees and with tears streaming down her face. Isabella got tears of compassion in her eyes and put her tiny little hands on Teresa's face. "Don't worry, I'll be back", Isabella said to her beloved teacher in her most tender and sad voice. She never came back and it has been almost six years.

Isabella and I both loved Mickey Mouse. She also loved Disney movies. I sent her a gift package of her favorite things to her counselor after she moved to Louisiana. She reportedly grew so angry at the sight of her beloved objects away from her mommy that she tore the Mickey Mouse doll to pieces. My heart ached to hear that story.

Her father is a violent man. He raped me and he mistreated me. He lives in Louisiana, and his bigotry is loud and abundant and he teaches it to his children. He dropped out of school in the eighth grade and he is a welfare receiving, chronically ill drug addict and smoker. He has refused to allow me his location, so for the past five years, while I have known where my other girls live, I have no idea where Isabella is.

I hope and pray she does not forget me and the love I have for her. I know she is a completely different person now than the active, compassionate, funny, friendly gymnast she was when she lived with me. I miss her terribly. I wanted this blog to memorialize her, although, to the best of my knowledge, she is still alive. It is my heartfelt prayer we are reunited again one day very soon.

I love you, Isabella. I fondly remember your life, the time I was able to enjoy being your mom. One thing I always told people about you was that you were a "really neat person". I was blessed to even know you for such a short time, let alone be your mother. Your conception was a tragedy and accident, but your life has been packed full of purposeful and compassionate meaning. I will always love you and I will never stop fighting in my spirit for your best interest.

Happy Tenth Birthday, my Precious Isabella!
Love your Mommy, Phoebe