The NICU

A few weeks before the birth of our third baby I wrote, "This pregnancy is very different. Haydn and I both feel prepared in a way we haven't before. By now, we know how to focus on handling what we can and putting faith in God to handle what we cannot.". Wow. I didn't know it then, but God was preparing my heart for what lay ahead.

I went into labor with our third child, a baby girl, five weeks early. As the minutes turned into hours, it became obvious that nothing would stop her from entering this world on her own time. I remember her birth most vividly of all three. The feeling of deep appreciation when she was placed on my chest, the quick "hi baby" whispered by an exhausted mother and the already adoration of her father. Then there was the immediate removal and whisking away to a corner of the room where a team of doctors and nurses started working. There was an occasional whimper from her, but there was no loud crying. I remember hearing the statement, "I'm bringing a baby girl up to the NICU now"and telling my husband, "GO"as firmly as I could manage.

The next hour was a whirlwind, as only postpartum is: the cleaning, regaining of strength, and discomfort. This time accompanied by the only question I could ask, to almost anyone who would listen, "is she okay?".

Eventually, my husband came into my room and said, "she's doing great, Anslee". The comfort that phrase brought me is without comparison. He then showed me a photo of her which brought our new reality into perspective. The picture he showed was of a tiny baby, with more wires and cords connected to her than I could have ever imagined. I remember being so tired and so afraid, that kind of fear and exhaustion that paralyzes you from even praying. It was one of those moments of raw faith where the true meaning of Romans 8:34-35 was completely appreciated.

She was a day old when I got to actually hold her for the first time. She was so small and I was so scared due to her size and the sheer number of wires and cords attached to her. She was on a CPAP, so while I could hold her with assistance, it was still hard to see her face. With time though, one by one the cords would disappear and the cheek kisses and head sniffs would begin.

Every day in that chair felt both fleeting and unending. So much holding, rocking, praying and hoping. And then, at the end of each day, came the absolute gut-wrenching goodbye. It did not ever get easier. I fought those goodbye tears everyday as I stole one last forehead kiss. It's a feeling only another parent in the same situation can relate to, though for us, it did end happily.

We spent three weeks in the NICU. I could write for days about all we experienced. Every day brought small successes and setbacks of all kinds. Nurses and doctors became friends, other families in the NICU became best friends, and best friends at home became family. The out-pour of love, support and help we received still brings up a well of emotions in me. We were so abundantly blessed in ways I could have never imagined and will never forget.

We've been home now for six months. Our baby bear is growing strong and surprising us all. She loves to roll over and is chewing on absolutely everything. There are times, mostly during late night cuddles, where the flood of NICU memories comes rushing in. I can still hear the monitors and feel the ache from the chair. It's in these moments I am reminded most of how God carried me through that fire, for there is no way I did it on my own accord.

So, to any mother out there who finds herself in a NICU room or a PICU room, or quite frankly to anyone out there who finds themselves in a worrisome situation, wondering if God is in fact there, I can undoubtedly assure you: HE IS. It is my prayer that one day that you can look back and see just how much he carried you during your most needed hour.

With Love,

Anslee