Love, Stephanie

“Dear NICU Mama, When your baby sees you, they see home. It’s not the home you’ve been away from for days, or weeks, because this hospital has become your whole world. They see the home that exists only in you.

Before they knew the hum of monitors, clinical smells, and bright lights, they knew you. Your heartbeat was their lullaby. Your voice was the first sound that made sense. And now, in this place that can feel so frightening, when their eyes find your face, or when you hold them, they find their way back.

You might be feeling a mixture of grief and gratitude. You may be sitting beside an isolette with sadness because you cannot do all the things you imagined you would do as a mother by now. I know that feeling. My son was born at 25 weeks and six days, and I sat in uncertainty for 87 days in the NICU. 87 days of showing up, of learning his cues, of asking questions, of pushing for answers when something didn’t feel right. But, I found my voice advocating for him!

A few years later, my oldest son climbed into my lap and said something that stopped me completely: “Mom, when I was in your tummy, you were my home.” My immediate reply was, “I will always be your home.” And just like that, I understood what was true for him was true for my NICU baby, too. The home never changed, but the circumstances did.

Your baby doesn’t see your fear. They see you. They see the one person in this world who chose to fight for them before they ever took their first breath. They see safety. They see love that doesn’t require the perfect circumstances to be completely, overwhelmingly deep.
You don’t have to be healed to be healing them. You don’t have to be strong to be their strength. You just have to show up, and you already are!

Your presence is not a small thing. It is everything.”

Love,
Stephanie