If you’ve ever had a baby in the NICU, you know.
You know the spectrum of emotions you feel each and every day. You know the anxiety, the stress, the hopelessness. You know the joy in small wins and the eagerness for progress.
You know what it feels like to be totally consumed by numbers and monitors, tracking anything and everything you can.
You know the love you have for your new baby, and you’ve felt that jealousy of other moms bringing their babies home with them.
You know what it feels like to still be healing from birth but without the benefit of holding your newborn in your arms whenever you want.
You’ve memorized the “touch times” and the doctors’ rounding schedule. You have favorite nurses and know the cafeteria schedule by heart.
Being a NICU mom is painful. But you’re not alone, and neither is your baby.
I’m celebrating those small wins for your baby, too. I’m listening quietly in the pod next to yours; praying for good news.
You’re not alone in the NICU.
I’m praying your baby gains weight. Or learns how to feed. Or keeps her temperature.
I’m praying that your favorite night nurse comes in tonight because I know you’re working late and can’t come for the 10 p.m. feed.
I’m praying you get to hold your little one in your arms at home soon.
You may feel alone but know I’m silently part of your squad.
To those moms who know the pain of leaving your baby—and your heart—in the NICU: I’m right across the pod. And in your corner.