My husband, Marvin, and I were excited to welcome our first child together. When we got married in 2006, we didn’t have a timeline for having a baby, and I was enjoying being a bonus mom to his son. After a year, we began conversations about adding to our family. We were excited when we discovered I was pregnant, but unfortunately, I experienced a miscarriage.
Six months later, after having a suspicion that I might be pregnant again, I decided to take a pregnancy test when I arrived at my office. Upon seeing the positive pregnancy indicator, I was thrilled. I went to my desk to call my husband, but was intercepted and asked to attend a meeting.
I was informed that I would be laid off. I packed up my things and felt a new mix of emotions on the two-hour ride home, rotating between excitement, anger, and worry. I was concerned about our finances because my husband had been laid off a few months prior. But, we were actually fine due to my severance package and my husband’s two small businesses.
My husband, always the optimist, was waiting at home with a hug and a shoulder to cry on. He told me he was excited about the baby, and everything would be fine. One chapter had ended and the start of something beautiful in our lives was about to begin.
The baby amazingly had the same due date as the one we lost, which was also my husband’s birthday. My doctors determined I had a “dynamic cervix” because my cervix changed lengths between examinations. After the previous miscarriage, they didn’t want to take any chances with my pregnancy. At 18 weeks, I had a cerclage put in to keep my cervix intact. One doctor even predicted that I would deliver early.
I had appointments every two weeks between my OB/GYN and maternal-fetal medicine team, where I received great care and attention. I was advised to stay off my feet as much as possible, take my vitamins, avoid certain foods, and eliminate any stress. I thought I did everything right…
Nevertheless, I was awakened early one morning in April to contractions. Wait. Contractions in April? I was only 26 weeks and 5 days pregnant and not due until July. I was just getting used to the flutter in my stomach and my baby kicking in rhythm to the music playing at church. I was not prepared for a baby!
No crib.
No baby clothes.
No baby name.
Nothing.
A couple of hours after arriving at the hospital, my OB/GYN suggested that we speak to the head of the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) to get an idea of what we might be facing. The NICU doctor came in and “Womp, womp, womp” was all I heard as I foolishly tuned him out.
The medicine I was given to help stop my contractions appeared to work; instead of them being five minutes apart, they slowed to 30-45 minutes apart. I was sure they would stop completely, and we would leave for home soon. Not to mention, I still had a cerclage in place that we just saw on the ultrasound.
I’ve often heard that babies come in their own time, and that’s just what happened. The contractions soon returned, and when they were five minutes apart again, the examination showed I was fully dilated and ready to deliver. According to my doctor, the cerclage had somehow unraveled and was lying in the baby’s hair like spaghetti. He assured me these things happen, and my son was just anxious to meet us.
After twelve hours of labor and three pushes, I became the mother of a tiny baby boy we named Aaron. Panic set in when he was slow to let out his first cry. I could only see my husband and the doctor smiling in amusement as Aaron’s arms and legs flapped like he was riding a bicycle to escape the new world he had entered.
I got a quick peek at him before he was whisked away to the NICU. Three hours later, I met my son through an incubator. I teared up when I saw this 2 lbs. 10 oz baby with tubes and wires everywhere. He was slender, with long fingers and big feet. His machine beeped every so often as his chest rapidly moved. He was also being treated for jaundice. He looked like he was enjoying a day at the beach as he sprawled out under the lamp with an eye mask on.
While he held my finger, I sat and prayed for him asking God to strengthen his body, breathe into his lungs, and keep watch over him while we were apart. I was nervous because I had never seen a baby that small. I became even more worried a few days later when the baby across from Aaron received their angel wings. I went back to my room praying even more for the both of us to make it through, stronger and healthier.
I wanted to breastfeed, but because of his early birth, I was not immediately able to. The nurses encouraged me to pump my milk because it would provide the best nutrition for him. I was off to a slow start, but eventually was able to provide his daily dose during his stay in the NICU. His feedings were placed in a syringe that traveled through a feeding tube that reached his stomach.
I was informed during an early morning visit that Aaron had stopped breathing a couple of times. While these Apnic or Bradycardia (also known as Brady) moments are common in preemies, it’s not something you want to hear about or see. The nurses told me that if he didn’t self-correct, I should massage his back, feet, or head as a reminder to breathe. He would have these episodes daily for weeks. I wondered if he would suffer any long-term issues because of this. I was concerned about what those episodes meant for his future.
I never imagined being separated from my newborn, but I had to go home without him. I knew he was in the best place to receive treatment, but I kept thinking, what if he needs me? More tears. More prayers.
My husband reassured me that everything would be alright and to have faith. It’s a word I’ve heard over and over at home, at church, and through family and friends, but I could not grasp its meaning when Aaron was born. Faith wasn’t something I could buy or touch. It was something from within. I asked God to increase my faith and provide guidance on raising a premature baby.
God answered my prayers. In those next days, I spoke to other women about their NICU experience. I was comforted in knowing that I was not alone. While their experiences were different than mine, I was so happy to know that their children made it through and were doing well. My faith was increasing day by day.
I did not hold Aaron until day four and had skin-to-skin contact. This was my favorite part of this experience. Aaron would often raise his head and look at me with eyes that looked like mine, as if to ask, “Are you my mother?” This intimate time helped us bond as I would pray for him and talk to him about all the people waiting to meet him.
I received numerous cards, calls, texts, and emails from people checking to see how Aaron was doing. I would tell them he’s thriving and surviving.
My faith increased even more when Marvin showed me a story about an NBA player who was born prematurely. He was born less than seven months into his mother’s pregnancy and was 12 inches long, just like Aaron! That was the physical proof I needed to know that God heard my prayers, and Aaron would be just fine.
Aaron was on a continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) for the first week in the NICU and then reduced to a nasal cannula that delivered oxygen through a tube into his nose. Aaron would adjust the nasal cannula, causing it to end up on his forehead, in his mouth, or under his chin. This was his way of letting us know how strong his lungs were, and that he did not need or want the extra help. Because his saturation level was good, he was weaned off and completely oxygen-free after two weeks.
Six weeks after birth, Aaron was moved to a crib and put in the “farewell” room; the final room before going home. He had lots to accomplish here. He had to get his “Brady” moments under control, regulate his temperature, receive a blood transfusion, learn to suckle, and pass a series of other tests. Aaron would start pulling out his feeding tube signifying he was ready to go home. The final hurdle was the car seat test. He passed! After 74 days in the NICU, we brought our son home on July 5th, which was almost three weeks before his actual due date.
Aaron was given exceptional care by all the doctors and nurses in the NICU. We were kept informed of his daily activities and progress. His dad would come home with positive updates on his private midnight visits, which reassured me about his round-the-clock care.
All the NICU nurses doted on him. He was quiet and cooperative most of the time. He would often reach out his hand and push against you as a sign that he did not want to be bothered. He had developed quite a personality already.
My birthing experience did not go as I imagined, but I learned that I’m strong and having faith works. My husband’s calm demeanor and optimistic outlook would help me remember to have faith.
With the help and support of our village, Aaron is thriving as a healthy teenager who’s an honor roll student and plays basketball. I am grateful for this experience and to be Aaron’s mom.
Encouragement for Moms
Moms remember that your situation and experience will be different than others and could change from one day to the next. It will be important to take care of yourself because your energy will flow to your baby. Accept support from family, friends, and others in your community to help lighten your load. Trust and have faith that while you are apart, your newborn is thriving and surviving in the capable hands of doctors and nurses whose mission is to send you home with a healthy baby.
My Prayer for Moms
Dear Heavenly Father,
I pray for your careful watch over the babies in the NICU. Supply all the doctors and nurses with the knowledge, wisdom, and compassion to provide the best care so that the babies are thriving and families are reunited. I pray that moms will renew their faith in you and trust in your healing power.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen
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