Love, Talia
“Dear NICU Mama, As another year comes to a close, I hope you celebrate your story. I know this might be hard, and I’m right there with you. None of us asked for this. When we find out we’re pregnant, we daydream about the first snuggle, skin-to-skin, and gazing upon our baby’s perfect face. Then at some point, before or after their birth, those peaceful dreams come crashing down. We find ourselves in a busy room full of loud machines and doctors overwhelming us with medical information we don’t understand (yet).
I get it. It feels so unfair.
While there may be aspects of your story that you may never celebrate, my hope is that you are able to find parts, even small ones, that make you proud. Maybe they’ll look something like these:
How quickly you learned your baby’s needs and bravely advocated for them
The quiet moments when you held their tiny hand and whispered a million I love you’s.
The times when you felt consumed with fear and yet you showed up for your baby, giving them the strength they needed.
How you became an expert on your child’s condition almost overnight.
The people you’ve met along the way that have become family.
The warmth you felt as you finally held your baby for the first time.
And the immense joy that comes when you rock your baby to sleep in their nursery for the first time—which I’m convinced is unbeatable.
Though the heartache and trauma may seem like it’s here to stay, I hope one day you will be able to see how uniquely wonderful your story of motherhood is. It’s a story of resilience, fierce love, unimaginable strength, and the deepest hope. Your story is wrapped in the most courageous love there is. It is so worth celebrating.
Your love for your NICU baby is the most beautiful thing in the world. And mama, your story is beautiful too. Just you wait and see.”
Love,
Talia
More of Talia + Evie’s NICU Journey:
“At our 20-week ultrasound, Evie was diagnosed with dextrocardia, Left Atrial Isomerism and an atrioventricular septal defect (AVSD). At 37 weeks, she developed a complete heart block, and her heart rate plummeted to the 60’s. We were immediately rushed to another city where she was born at 39 weeks via a high-risk C-section. I held Evie for a few minutes after she was born, and then she was transferred across the city to the NICU at the children’s hospital. I was unable to see her until I was discharged 48 hours later. My heart ached for her.
At 6 days old Evie had her first heart surgery for a pacemaker implantation. She seemed to be thriving and close to coming home, but around 3 weeks old she went into heart failure. Evie was intubated and sedated for 5 weeks, which was hard for us to bear. At two months old she received another heart surgery that significantly improved her symptoms of heart failure. Talk of home started again, and she was finally discharged at 3 months old.
Evie underwent a major open heart surgery at 7 months old that was mostly successful. She will very likely need more heart surgeries as her life progresses, but we are thankful for how she is thriving and defying odds each day.
Through this long journey, we have always remembered the NICU team that carried us through our toughest days in the beginning of it all. We remember each of their names and the warmth we felt from their smiling faces. They will forever hold a tender spot in our hearts.”
