“Dear NICU Mama, You may not be the same woman you were before your NICU journey. You have been forged in the fire, shaped by experiences no parent should ever have to experience.
You chose bravery every time you walked through those hospital doors, even when fear sat heavy on your chest.
You chose strength when your body ached, your mind felt cluttered, and your emotions felt out of control.
You chose surrender when your story didn’t unfold the way you imagined, trusting others to help care for your precious baby.
You chose hope when diagnoses felt overwhelming and the future felt uncertain.
Through every moment; every tear, every prayer, every ounce of love, you made the courageous choice not to let the fire consume you. Instead, you let it refine you, strengthen you, and transform you.
And in that refining, you have become a version of yourself you never expected: braver, stronger, softer, and fiercer.”
Love,
Hannah
More of Our Journey:
“Unlike many families, our NICU journey didn’t begin with surprise—it began with anticipation and fear. We were carrying Mono-Di twins, identical girls who shared a placenta, and from 25 weeks on, our pregnancy became the scariest rollercoaster of my life. The girls were diagnosed with severe IUGR and high resistance/intermittent absent blood flow, words no parent ever expects to learn, let alone understand.
From that point forward, I had ultrasounds three times a week, always with the looming possibility of an inpatient stay or emergency delivery. Every appointment felt like holding my breath. And yet, by the grace of God, we made it to 34 weeks.
Ember and Violet were born via C-section and immediately whisked away to the NICU. I didn’t hear their first cries. I didn’t get to see their faces. My introduction to this journey of motherhood was an empty operating room and a heart full of questions.
In the NICU, our girls spent four weeks learning the things most babies do without effort—breathing, regulating their temperature, gaining weight, and eventually eating by mouth. Those 28 days were long, emotional, and full of tiny victories that felt enormous. When discharge day finally came, we left with NG tubes, a car full of supplies, and a joy we could hardly contain. Our family was finally under one roof.
Life after discharge was its own chapter of uncertainty. We had weekly—and sometimes twice-weekly—weight checks, along with appointments across six different specialties, all trying to uncover the missing piece behind their slow weight gain. It was exhausting, hopeful, and relentless all at once.
Today, Ember and Violet are almost seven months old. They are joyful, bright-eyed, and full of personality. Every smile feels like a miracle. Every milestone feels like a celebration. We are endlessly grateful to be their parents.
Our NICU journey was not the one we imagined, but it is part of our story now. It that taught us resilience, faith, and the fierce love that grows in the hardest places.”