Love, Victoria
“Dear NICU Mama, From one sister to another, I think it’s amazing how you fight every day to stay standing. To walk through those doors everyday to be beside your miracle.
On the days when everything feels like it’s crumbling around you, you’ve got this.
On the days when flashbacks cripple you and those terrifying words “we need to deliver your baby now” echo through your mind and haunt you, you’ve got this.
On the days when you cannot control those tears from rolling down your cheeks, you’ve got this.
On the days you sit in disbelief and disassociate yourself and ask, “Surely this can’t be real?”, you’ve got this.
On the days when it feels like no one understands and you feel like it will never end, you’ve got this.
Nothing can take away your pain, your grief, your heart ache. Nothing at all. But stand tall NICU mama, stand strong. Be proud. You’ve made it this far. Through the pain, through the tears, through the deliberating heartbreak of what should have been, of what could have been but what wasn’t. You are amazing and although right now it might not feel like it, trust me, you really have got this.”
Love,
Victoria
More of Victoria + Her Son’s NICU Journey:
“Our journey to today has been bumpy to say the least. We found out I was pregnant the month after I had lost my first pregnancy. It was painful but we were overjoyed with our little miracle. We were so happy but quite early on had been told that my pregnancy was high risk due to severely low levels of PappA. Despite this I did everything I could to make sure I had a healthy pregnancy. I listened to my body very carefully, counted his kicks and recorded the patterns.
Early on I noticed our little man didn’t have a set pattern and we went in on a few occasions with reduced movement only to find a very happy, wriggly baby.
At 32+ 2 weeks his movement significantly reduced so we went in again. I lay there hooked up and we both knew something wasn’t right - the machine showed a flat line for his heartbeat. There was the odd flicker of movement but nothing strong. The midwife came in and looked worried, left and came back with a consultant. The couple opposite from us were quietly moved to another room and we both looked at each other and knew it was bad news. An emergency ultrasound showed little man’s bpm was 200+ and he needed to be delivered within 30mins. The next few minutes I remember vividly as I was prepped for theatre and rushed down. Our little man was delivered by emergency C section that night. He weighed 4lbs 3oz. I was told he cried, but I’ll never know because I was under general anaesthetic and my fiancé wasn’t allowed into the operating theatre. Our little one was diagnosed with SVT and wasn’t able to breath independently. 9 hours later I met my son for the first time and he was then taken away to another hospital to be put on a ventilator. 48 hours later I held him. 5 weeks later I brought him home on oxygen support, and a further 8 weeks later he came off oxygen support.
Although we have so many happy memories, those 98 days were probably the most difficult and painful I’ve ever experienced. During his hospital stay, every night I left I’d take a photo, just in case. Just in case he wasn’t there tomorrow. But he was and I feel so so fortunate that he is thriving and is the most gorgeous, smiley, chatty little boy. He’s my superstar. My little miracle.”
