“Dear NICU Mama, You can be so grateful for the title of “mom” and still grieve that your motherhood journey began within hospital walls.
It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to cry when you see other mothers take their babies home. It’s okay to not know what you’re doing. No one is supposed to be in this situation, and every journey is unique.
From the words of mothers who came before: take space for yourself, advocate for your baby, and lean into your support system. All three are hard at first, but you will find your way. The days in the NICU are long—especially on the hardest days (and there will be many). It’s okay to step away, to take a walk, or to sleep in your own bed. Being rested and restored gives you more capacity to show up for your child.
Learning how to navigate motherhood in the NICU can feel overwhelming when you’re surrounded by experts—doctors, nurses, dietitians, pharmacists, respiratory therapists. They are your team, and you are an equal member of that team. You know your baby best. You spend the most time with them, and you see their patterns and habits—that knowledge matters. If you feel uncertain about a plan, speak up. If you don’t understand the medical language, ask for clarity. Never be afraid to use your voice. This is your child, and you have a say in every decision that affects their care.
Lean on your support system. Asking for help is hard, but it is essential. If you have a partner on this journey, turn toward them and give them grace. You chose each other for a reason.
Celebrate the wins. Prepare for the setbacks. NICU life is a rollercoaster of emotions, and it is okay to not be okay. It’s also okay to be okay—to feel hope and joy—because this journey needs light, and you deserve to feel it.”
Love,
Kylerose
More of Our Journey:
“Our baby boy arrived at 28 weeks while we were vacationing with friends in Palm Springs. What I first thought were Braxton Hicks contractions quickly escalated, and just six hours later, I was undergoing an emergency C-section. Everything happened so abruptly — without warning, without a clear reason, and 1,200 miles away from home. It was unexpected, frightening, and deeply traumatic. We spent 24 days in the Palm Springs NICU before our son was med-flighted to Seattle Children’s for a higher level of care. He struggled to breathe and eat on his own, which extended his hospitalization far beyond what we ever imagined. After 156 days in the NICU, we were finally discharged — heading home with oxygen and a G-tube. We’ve now been home for a month, and our little boy is growing stronger every day.”