NICU Tribute

Before I was a NICU- mom, I had thought birth was a natural event.

I couldn’t have imagined a full perinatalogy team all yellow-suited working to make my child breathe, how quickly one group of people could work together, or how quiet moments after birth could be. I had no idea that silence after delivery was deafening, frightening, and eerie. I didn’t know I would hold my own breath until my child took his.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I’d never suited up to enter a sterile center

I didn’t measure time in nursing rotations.

I didn’t admire neonatalogists, NICU-nurses, and grief therapists

I didn’t know that each hospital had a patient coordinator.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I didn’t know machines could be both beautiful and terrifying; that positive air pressure was a blessing, gavage feeding gentle, and kangaroo care healing.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I measured child development in weeks and months instead of hours and days. I didn’t worry that my child wouldn’t meet milestones; I simply waited for them. I had never worried that I would hear the word "blindness" or "cerebral palsy." I had no idea what it was like to wait to see how seriously my child would be impaired.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I thought that premature babies were simply tiny fighters, not a fragile future. I’d never measured time in the hospital as negative development time. I’d never feared a doctor’s visit, what he would say, or wondered if I’d ever take my baby home.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I didn’t know I’d need permission to touch, hold, feed, change, sing, and care for my own child. I didn’t realize that I could and would be denied simple actions performed by a qualified staff so that I wouldn’t injure my tiny baby. I didn’t know that bandages remove baby skin; IV’s have to be flushed and are painful; light has to be blocked but round-the-clock staff must still see; schedules are all-important, and each event recorded. Nothing is too small to note when your baby is in the NICU. It all matters.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I didn’t realize there was an entire level of medicine developed to provide for me and mine that I didn’t even know I’d ever need, or know that everyone there would want what I want for my baby.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I measured time in minutes, days, weeks, years; now I measure them in seconds, hours, days, weeks—each more precious than the last. I’ve learned to seize and savor those moments, because I was a NICU-mom.

Jillian Phippen