Love, Kendra
“Dear NICU Mama, You may not know it now, but one day, you will be a walking letter of hope for the NICU mom who doesn’t feel seen.
I see you as you're wheeled into the operating room for an emergency C-section, knowing your baby will soon be born prematurely and immediately taken from you. You feel isolated, your partner in the next room, unable to comfort you as you face major surgery. Fear of the unknown overwhelms you. You grieve the loss of a "normal," healthy delivery.
I see you being guided into the NICU to meet your baby for the first time. The wires, monitors, and alarms surrounding your fragile infant are terrifying. It feels surreal. It feels unfair. Overwhelmed by emotion, you feel numb.
I see you sitting by your baby's bedside, day after day, witnessing setbacks that no mother should endure. Hearing unfamiliar medical terms. Witnessing another mama being wheeled back to meet her own baby for the first time, taking you right back to that place and time in your own memory. You feel helpless beside your baby, but guilty when you're not there. The maternal urge to nurture is strong, yet you feel like a visitor, not a mother.
But, I also see you witnessing the miracle of your baby. You rejoice in every milestone, big and small. I see you fighting alongside your baby, displaying unexpected bravery amongst the chaos. You possess the strength and resilience to overcome hardships and find beauty in this journey. Though it may not always be pleasant, your story will be beautiful and it will be worth celebrating.
Allow yourself to feel everything, to extend grace to yourself. Let your support system love and uplift you. You deserve to feel heard and at peace. You deserve to feel seen.”
Love,
Kendra
More of Kendra + Elijah’s NICU Journey:
“I walked into work on February 13, 2025, at 19 weeks and 5 days pregnant, excited about the future. But within an hour, everything changed. A gush of fluid – something definitely wasn’t right. A call to my OB, a trip to the ER, and then the confirmation of my worst fear: my water had broken at only 19 weeks. PPROM. The doctors prepared us for the likelihood of labor within days, maybe a week, and the very real possibility of losing our baby.
Fueled by prayer and a desperate hope, I somehow made it to viability at 22 weeks. I was admitted to the labor and delivery floor in a hospital three and a half hours away from home. Six long weeks of bedrest passed, and my body went into labor, and we welcomed our son, Elijah, at 27 weeks and 4 days. He was a tiny but mighty 2 pounds, 15 ounces, born just one day shy of eight weeks since my water had broken.
Our NICU journey has been one filled with highs and lows. Overjoyed by the arrival of our beautiful baby, yet terrified of the uncertain road ahead. We’ve celebrated every milestone, no matter big or small, and experienced heartbreaking setbacks. The juggling of life outside the NICU, but feeling the constant urge to be there. But through it all, the prayers, kindness, and unwavering support of our family, friends, healthcare team, and fellow NICU parents have carried us.
We were just discharged after 84 days in the NICU! While the pain and struggle of this experience are undeniable, I also see the beauty of miracles and the incredible strength of both NICU babies and their parents. A nurse once told me, “No one knows the strength of a NICU mama until they've experienced it. You guys are the real heroes.” To all the NICU mamas out there: you are strong, you are brave, and you are seen.”
