Just Brave Enough

It is often asked "How many weeks was he?" or "How much did he weigh?" when the topic of my son being premature arises. These answers have become routine, the words flow out of my mouth before my brain can even formulate a sentence; it's almost a reflex. The truth is, however, having a preemie and enduring a NICU stay is anything but routine. That is why we need NICU Awareness Month. I've seen what a two-pound baby looks like. I've seen translucent skin, tinted blue, peering out beneath tangled wires and tubes. I've seen a life stop breathing and a chest rise and fall with the help of a machine. I've seen eyes fused shut. I've seen hands the size of my fingertips, a head that fits in my palm, and a bottom that sits on three of my fingers. I've seen countless needles and heel pricks. I've seen an unbelievably small body under bright lights. I've seen an incubator shrouded with medical professionals day after day, planning the bes...

As a parent, I’m different. Whether I want to be or not, it’s true. Being at a hospital or doctor’s office makes me queasy, which is unfortunate because I spend a lot of time there nowadays. The stark whiteness and fluorescent lights, the clinking of metal tools and equipment, the vast spaces and uncomfortable quiet, and the unsettling feeling of receiving bad news.  The hospital is where I found out that my whole world was going to be turned upside down and then saw things that I wish I could unsee, but are burned into my brain. Doctor’s offices became an extension of those memories and a reminder of the journey behind us and all of the struggles we had the potential to face. I can’t use hand sanitizer because the smell takes me back to a place that I don’t want to revisit. I can hear the sound of the dispenser in my head - the automatic whirring of the machine on the wall as the motion sensor recognized my hands beneath it - a noise that became all too familiar to me. The ext...