Life in the NICU has been heavy on my mind recently. I don't know why. It's not the same time of year we were "doing time" there. The weather is good and not making anybody sad. Things are going well! But I just can't shake the memories of Ethan's birth, our time in the NICU, and the families who are going through those same things at this very moment.
That must be it…NICU life doesn't end. Once you've been inducted into this "Hall of Fame" it never leaves your side. You are so eager to leave, counting the days, begging the doctors, and praying for the day you can leave those doors forever with your baby in tow. And yet it becomes such an important part of your life that a mourning for life in the NICU doesn't seem to leave.
In the days of chaos now when I have a 6 year old and 1 year old fighting over a baby toy, the television is blaring some obnoxious "educational" show, dinner just isn't unthawing fast enough, and I'm trying to hold an adult conversation about work on the telephone, I think back to the quiet of the NICU. Ahhhh….it was so peaceful, so quiet, but so alone. So full of fear. So full of guilt. Full of tears.
So it's a weird connection we have with the NICU. And though I could contentedly go the rest of my life without stepping into those hallways again, the loss of the relationships we had with the NICU staff, the loss of the quiet, and the loss of focus on our sweet little baby as the world began to creep back in when we returned home is still in our hearts.
But how can I even complain when we didn't experience the ultimate loss? We walked out of that NICU on Oct. 15, 2010 with a healthy, teeny-tiny, baby boy in a car seat. Some car seats leave empty. There were days in that NICU when I had to leave Ethan behind while I went home to be with Trent and on those days it felt as though my feet were molded into concrete. Each step was laborious. The NICU door seemed that it might weigh a million pounds. But we got the joy at the end. It hurts so much to think of those whose feet may feel forever in the concrete because their arms were empty when they took the last steps through the NICU. And I think that is why my heart is heavy.
Not a day goes by that the families in NICUs across the country don't go through my mind. Some regular dreary Wednesday when life is boring and our focus is on the most recent gossip on TMZ or whose status update on Facebook is the most ridiculous, remember the families in the NICU. They are everywhere...and just like you. They didn't choose their time in the NICU…it chose them. They are scared from their toes to their head, hopeful in their hearts, and a kind word of encouragement or simple prayer sent up for them will help calm their nerves and soothe their spirits.
We're embracing our induction into the NICU, we've stamped our hands into the sidewalks, and will be forever changed by the experience.
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