Love, Melissa

“Dear NICU Mama, As You Navigate Life after NICU, always remember that you are not alone. 

The NICU can feel like a lonely place. You may be consumed with thoughts of:  “Will my baby be okay? When will my baby be able to come home?” It feels as if no one understands, like no one could possibly understand the pain and the grief of having a NICU baby.

Then if your baby comes home, while there is joy and gratitude in that, there is also fear and grief and loneliness. As you navigate possible medical challenges or doctor appointments or anxiety about going places or being around people, how could anyone understand the weight of this? 

But NICU mama, remember, there is a whole army of NICU mamas that have borne and continue to bear the pain and grief of watching their child in the NICU. Mamas bearing the weight of having a pregnancy and birth not go to plan. Mamas grieving missing the golden hour. Mamas not being able to take their child home at night. Mamas counting the days wondering when or if their baby will come home.

And a whole army of NICU mamas now bearing the loneliness and grief and anxiety of life after NICU and what that means for motherhood and the development of their child. 

In this season of motherhood, I hope more than anything you know that you are not alone. That there are many NICU mamas that bear the pain and grief of the NICU and of life after the NICU and a whole community of moms that are grieving right alongside you.

This season of motherhood is painful and nothing can take that away, but you are not alone.”

Love,
Melissa

More of Melissa + Evelyn’s + Olivia’s NICU Stories:

"5 years ago, after a very difficult pregnancy in which many of my symptoms were dismissed, I gave birth to my first daughter, Evelyn at 35+4 via emergency c-section due to severe pre-eclampsia and HELLP syndrome. 

She was sent to a NICU an hour away due to the hospital not being equipped to care for her needs. She had a blockage in her nose, jaundice, and she needed to learn to eat due to not having the suck, breathe, swallow reflex. For 4 days, I fought for my life, while my husband spent those days with her in the NICU. I was unable to be there with her and it was the most emotionally painful and traumatic experience being separated from my baby and thinking I may die. 

We spent a long time wondering if we could do it again. After a little more than 3.5 years, I became pregnant with my second daughter, Olivia. I did a lot of research, was with a different hospital system, MFM, level 1 NICU. My pregnancy went much more smoothly, but due to slightly elevated BP, my doctor decided a planned c-section at 37 wks exactly was the best plan of action. Everyone was so excited that I made it to 37 wks and no one anticipated that I would experience another NICU stay. 

Olivia experienced respiratory distress at birth and was in the NICU for 12 days. I was discharged home after a few days and had to travel to come see her. Nothing can prepare you to see your baby hooked up to cpap and oxygen, fighting to breathe, with her levels decreasing each time they tried to take her off a little more. The first night leaving her in the NICU, coming home to see my eldest and recover from surgery, I fell into my mom’s arms sobbing that I couldn’t do this again. I could and I did, but it was really hard. I will always grieve having 2 NICU babies, 2 babies taken from me at birth for specialty care, the inability to care for them the way I felt I needed to right after birth as their mother.  

I’m very grateful both of my girls came home from the NICU. Evelyn is now a sweet, sensitive, empathetic, creative 5 year old. Olivia is an adventurous and spunky 13 month old. Both are thriving.”