Love, Kristen

“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 needs it most. 

For the veteran NICU mom, in awe of how far their babe has come, you are a symbol of resilience. 

For the freshly discharged NICU mom, balancing appointments and expectations, you are a symbol strength. 

And for the brand new NICU mom, vulnerable and scared after their world was flipped, you are a symbol hope. 

Wherever you are on this journey, I hope you know that your resilience & strength do not go unnoticed. Your perseverance in the face of unimaginable circumstances is awe-inspiring. Each day you continue to advocate for your baby, or for yourself, you are laying a foundation for every NICU parent who will come after you. Each day you share your story, no matter how big or small, you continue adding bricks of hope to the foundation, for all to see. 

So NICU mama, I never want you to forget the force that you are. I hope you remember that even when things feel tough, you are part of a sisterhood that sees you. And most of all, I hope you remember that by simply being you, you are leaving a legacy of hope for other mamas, just like me and you. 

I see you mama, and I’m proud of you. You give me hope, too.”
Love,
Kristen

More of Kristen + Alia’s NICU Journey:

“Our journey started at 20 weeks, when we had our anatomy scan where everything looked good, but Baby Girl was looking a little small. That sent us on a course of weekly ultrasounds with the MFM team to keep an eye on her. At 25+2, I went for my ultrasound with my husband, and it was the type of appointment where you go from laughing and happy, to incredibly serious with a few clicks on the monitor. Within minutes the room was full of doctors saying things like “preeclampsia” and “growth restriction.” Before I could wrap my head around the gravity of the situation facing both my health and my baby’s health, my MFM sent me to a hospital with a larger, better equipped NICU, and told me to bring items for delivery. 

Three very long days, two steroid shots, and one HELLP syndrome diagnosis later, Aila was born via emergency c-section at 25 weeks and 5 days, weighing 1 lb. 2 oz. I’ll never forget hearing my L&D nurse gasp and exclaim, “Oh my god, she’s crying!” followed by the faint little squeaks of Aila. Despite every grim prognosis, she was born kicking and screaming, showing everyone a fighter had entered the ring. She was intubated, wheeled to me for a quick peek, and then was off to the NICU with my husband and her medical team.

It was no surprise that the road ahead was long and had many bumps along the way. She faced blood transfusions, rounds of steroids, pulled pic lines, skin rashes & infections, pneumonia, ROP, COVID exposures & a minor cerebellar bleed - but the biggest roadblocks in her journey were related to respiratory & weight gain. Through weeks of back and forth battling, Aila self extubated herself off the ventilator, said c-ya to CPAP & told high-flow to hit the road. Once she was on low flow, together we navigated through oral feeding and the painstaking road of learning to eat from bottles. One day, things clicked & Aila was able to lose low-flow, and started hitting her daily feeding goals. After 111 long, hard, yet wonderful and  indescribable days, our miracle girl was able to come home and the next season of our life as a family of three was truly able to begin. 

Aila is three years old, and the happiest most smiley girl you will ever meet. She charms everyone who crosses her path and has a curiosity for the world around her that can’t be tamed. She still has some eye, cardio and respiratory concerns that we are following with her team, but we know she will conquer any challenge that comes into her path. She is our warrior, and we feel so grateful to be her parents.”