Dear New NICU Mom,
I noticed you the other day while I was pushing my twins on the infant floor of the hospital. We were heading through those same NICU doors but there for very different reason this time. You stopped at the big sinks to wash your hands as I proceeded into the waiting area to prepare for my girls to get eye exams done. Your husband stood behind you waiting to wash his hands in that same sink. You walked slowly, as if you were still in pain from birthing your baby. Your face was stained with tears and you looked exhausted. I knew that look. I remembered that feeling.
As you walked by the waiting room to your baby’s bed I caught your eye as you looked in on me holding one of my twins. You half smiled at me and then at your husband as you mentioned I had twins. I smiled back but not a smile full of joy, a smile that had a pain behind it.
I wanted to get up. I wanted to walk over to you & hug you. I wanted to let you know that I know how it feels. I know how you feel. I know you are scared, sad, feeling hopeless and probably having self blame.
I was you nine months ago when my daughters were born at just 22 weeks.
I have cried those uncontrollable tears. My cheeks were once stained with those same tears. As I sit at my daughters beds, waiting for their doctors to come do rounds I can feel the lump in my throat. Will I get good news today? Will it be more painful news? I watched those same monitors and jumped at every single beep. Glaring from the monitor to my daughter and back to the monitor, on repeat.
You probably prayed the doctors would say your baby was stable enough to hold today, I prayed that same prayer every morning for 41 days before it happened.
I have cried that same silent cry as I said goodbye to my very tiny daughters for the night. Making sure their blankets were just right, their machines weren’t going off and their nurse was around to keep an eye on them. I put my hand on their incubator, promising them that I’d be back before they woke in the morning. I also stopped at the corner where I could still see their beds making sure everything was ok.
I have walked that slow walk to the door of the NICU. As I prepare to leave I get a sharp pain in my abdomen where my tiny babies should still be growing. My eyes begin to tear up, now I am crying and wiping my tears before I exit those doors so I don’t have to assure any strangers in the hallway that I’m ok. I wasn’t ok.
I know it’s hard to see me here with what seems like my very healthy, very BIG babies. My babies who now seem so big are more than 10 times their birth weight. They are healthy and happy but the journey here wasn’t easy.
No more oxygen, no more wires, no medications. It’s often hard for me to believe that these round chubby babies were the babies I gave birth to. When they were born, I was prepared for the worst, for a different life than we have now but we made it. We are here.
As you pass by the waiting room. I wanted to tell you that I pray for you. I pray for your baby and even though I don’t know you personally, I pray. I pray so hard that your baby will be fine too. That in a couple of months, it’ll seem as surreal for you as it does for me.
That fear and uncertainty you feel, it slows down as the time passes. Your baby will grow, they will get a chubby belly and squishy cheeks. And when your baby makes it out of these NICU walls I will rejoice with you. No matter what that entails. Leaving the NICU with your baby may mean oxygen, wheelchairs, braces, monitors, tubes and it may not. What matters the most is you made it. You’ll be able to smile again. A real genuine smile as your now big baby bounces on your lap.
New NICU mom, as our eyes disconnect and your small grin fades, I just wanted you to know I have been there. You are not alone. My babies have been where your baby is. I have been where you have been.
I know how much this hurts, I know how much you hurt. It’s ok to feel this sad, it’s ok to cry, it’s ok to be scared. This journey is hard and uncertain.
I share this pain, burden and fear with you because I was you.
Love,
A seasoned NICU mama
