IT'S THE SMALL THINGS

I write this exactly a year after my now one-year-old son was released from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) where he was admitted for 10 nights due to respiratory distress syndrome.

To be honest, the NICU was a foreign thought to me before. I knew of its existence, but I never thought my own would end up there. Truly, no one ever dreams for their baby to end up in the NICU. Looking back at everything a year later, it is indeed one of the greatest nightmares parents have to live through, and it is an experience I would never wish on anyone.

In fact, it is this very trauma I believe that creates an invisible, yet undeniable bond between NICU parents, mother’s especially.

For starters, I never imagined having to leave the hospital and get discharged without my baby in tow. In fact, to rub the wound with salt, I never realized how difficult it would be to actually be in the same elevator as a couple happily and blissfully going home with their newborn while all we had was our luggage. It is quite literally like leaving your heart in the hospital. Of course you are left with no choice, and then you continuously console yourself with the fact that he is getting the best care that cannot be provided at home.

As if being born premature and pregnancy complications were not enough, it is the most unnatural (and in my case unexpected) and difficult start to parenthood, in my opinion, and the additional stress and not being able to bond with your baby 24/7 affects so many aspects — from milk supply, to sleepless nights of worry that your phone may ring with a negative update.

It is an inexplicable experience unless you go through it. It is almost as if every NICU mom has an unspoken language, and understands medical terms and jargon that soon become everyday talk. It is still triggering to the extent that when I hear of friends, or even someone whose baby ends up in the NICU, a part of me still innately panics, and prays for the baby and parents.

To tell a stranger to imagine an ICU, but full of helpless neonates instead who know nothing better, and who have not been given a chance at life does not quite suffice.

And because of this, I am so grateful to have had an amazing support system — not only in family, and select friends who knew at the time, but from the hospital team who not once made me feel inadequate as a mother or provider. It is then that I realized the pricelessness of kindness and compassion when going through the most harrowing of times.

If there is something we can offer to others in moments we do not know how else we can be of help, it is our prayers, our presence (that need not be physical) and just letting them know that our love and care will always be there.

A year after, and though there are moments I still see signs of prematurity in my baby boy, I am just so grateful to have the most beautiful and alive bundle of joy — my reminder every single day that the Lord is truly merciful to those who are faithful.