The Eloira Effect

March 16, 2026
I still can’t believe I gave birth.
Just yesterday, my baby girl was inside me—safe, warm, and protected. For 23 weeks, she was all I knew. And now… she’s here, fighting for her life outside of me.

It doesn’t feel real.

Watching Eloira in the NICU is something I could have never prepared for. Doctors and nurses surround her constantly, checking her stats, adjusting medications, and making sure she stays stable.

Stable! That word has become everything. But this… this is not how I imagined becoming a mom.

I always pictured that moment, the doctor placing my baby in my arms, feeling her warmth, her heartbeat against mine.

Not this.

Not standing over an incubator.
Not watching from a distance.
Not being afraid to touch her.

It’s only day two… and it already feels like a lifetime.

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My mind keeps wandering.

“What if this happens?”
“What if that goes wrong?”
The what-ifs don’t stop.

I’m supposed to be discharged soon. The doctors said if I’m still clotting, I may have to stay, and honestly, I don’t mind. Being close to Eloira is all I want right now.

Today, I tried pumping for the first time.
And let me tell you… There is nothing glamorous about it.

There I was, sitting in a hospital room, learning how to use a machine I never thought twice about before. Completely exposed, trying to focus while a nurse walked me through it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It felt awkward. It felt emotional. It felt… heavy.
Because this is what feeding my baby looks like right now.

Not holding her.
Not nursing her.

Just pumping… hoping… waiting.