Dear NICU Nurse

Delnor had its annual NICU reunion party this last Sunday. It really got me to thinking about the entire NICU experience and how far the boys have come since then.  It felt like we were in that nursery forever, when the reality was we were only there just a couple to few weeks.  But every moment feels like an eternity when you cant provide everything for your child....


It was so wonderful to catch up with some of the nurses we had met and grown fond of.  And apparently they were excited to see us too!  One of the nurses even said to my husband - "You were so entertaining.  I don't think I will ever forget you".  The guest list goes back 21 years, and there were 175 children alone that RSVPd for this reunion - to get that kind of memorable feedback truly means a lot.  


Dear Nurses,

I promise I wont forget you either.

You cared for pieces of my heart when I wasn't able to.  

You cheered on my boys with sincerity and hope.  

Despite your dry hands, I watched as you diligently sanitized them for the umpteenth time before gently caring for my babies. 

I watched as you looked upon them lovingly and cradled them in your arms as if they were your own.  

You carefully explained to me what all of the monitors and numbers and sounds meant ....again.... with so much patience - as if this wasn't the hundredth time this week you've had to repeat this information to a worried parent.  

You went out of your way to tell me stories of hope and success.  

You learned my routine bringing in stashes of breast milk, and called me in advance to let me know of a change in schedule so I could make it in time to feed my babies.  

You knew how much it meant to me.  

This clearly isn't just a job for you.  This is a calling.  A very special breed of a person is needed for this undertaking.  A person overflowing with kindness, love, and compassion. You are nothing short of magic.  You mothered my sons when I simply could not.  Feeling helpless, I looked upon as you literally loved them.  

You loved them to life.  

And I could never repay you, but I will be eternally grateful.  ​

A glimpse into our life as NICU parents

Leo Mac - born 7 1/2 weeks early at 3lbs 9oz, Spent 24 days in NICU - Here he is at 10 days old, being fed by Mom.  ​

Joel Danger - born 7 1/2 weeks early at 4lbs 9 oz.  Spent 17 days in NICU - Here he is at 10 days old, being fed by Dad.

And yet here they are, just days shy of 3 months old (a little over 1 month old adjusted) - BIG, Growing, Happy, and HEALTHY

For those mommies and daddies who have gone, or may be going, through this experience, here is a lovely letter to YOU.

"I get that having a child prematurely or spending time in the NICU is not what you had planned and it is extremely hard watching your child suffer, feeling so helpless and full of fear. Having a medically fragile child is difficult and you may feel alone, isolated, or invisible. But today, I want you to know that you are not alone. You are not invisible, and that I see you.

I see you rushing into the NICU with your hair pulled back and your sweat pants on. Bending over at the sink scrubbing your hands with intent, hoping and praying that you made it in time for the 8am feeding. You are beautiful.

I see you sitting at your child’s bedside. Journal in hand, writing down your baby’s latest statistics: weight, isolette temperature, amount of oxygen, and ventilator settings. Things that no parent should ever have to think or worry about, but you do it. You are brave.

I see you walking the halls to the maternity ward to get a drink from the vending machine. You pass by a couple taking a stroll with their newborn baby in tow in a bassinet. They look so happy, you smile as they pass. The look on your face is one of admiration, but you march on. You are resilient.

I see you unpacking your never ending pumping supplies, lining up your bottles, and preparing for your next power session, even though you did this routine just 2 hours ago. You are dedicated.

I see you standing over your baby’s isolette, counting down the hours until the next “hands on care”, longing to touch and hold your child, and praying you will get to have kangaroo care time today. You are loving.

I see you as new parents enter the NICU for the first time. They are scared, nervous, and afraid of what the future holds. You too, are worried about the future, but I see you approach them and offer a shoulder to lean or cry on. I see you explain to them the ropes, telling them that it won’t be easy, but  assuring them that you are there if they need your help. You are compassionate.

I see you as the neonatologist leaves your baby’s bedside after giving you an update and the plan for the day. You look puzzled and somewhat afraid. Confused by the medical terminology, you ask questions, and you begin to research and learn all that you can about your child’s diagnosis and possible future. You are an advocate.

I see you as your family and friends visit your child who has now been in the NICU for weeks on end. They ask questions, the wonder, and they sometimes make uninformed or even hurtful comments. They may fail to recognize that this journey is long and hard, not just for your baby, but for you too. You don’t get upset. You answer their questions politely, and educate them the as best that you can, and then you thank them for their concerns. You are amazing.

I see you as you perform diaper changes through all the wires, tubes, and machines. You look beyond all this medical machinery and smile in admiration of your little fighter. You have been through so much, you have seen so much, and you have loved so deeply and abundantly through it all. You are courageous.

You spend countless hours worrying about, defending, and advocating for your baby. You spend days, weeks, months, and often years beyond the NICU experience learning best therapies, best medical devices, finding the best doctors, and the best schools for your child. You may be burdened with huge medical bills. You may feel isolated and alone in this new NICU world and beyond these doors in the years to come. But today, I want you to know that you are not alone and you are not invisible. I can never truly say that I understand everything that you have been through because I haven’t walked in your shoes. But I hope you can hear my heart when I say I get it. I see you.

I see you when you’re tired and at the end of your rope but you truck on. I see you when your patience is wearing thin but you continue on with determination. I see the amazing strength you possess for your little one. I see you when you are astonished by the wonder of your tiny brave hero as you celebrate another amazing milestone. I see you when you are left standing between your baby and this sometimes cruel and critical world we live in. I see it all, and I see you.

I acknowledge you.

I admire you.

And

I applaud you."

(You can find the entire original post here )

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