The NICU: Lauren’s Fight for Survival

I often talk about the trauma of infertility and IVF—but there’s another level of heartbreak we rarely discuss: 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗨.

I had no experience with the NICU until I found myself there with my premature daughter.

When Lauren was born, I saw her for only a moment before the nurse whisked her away.

She came into the world at 34 weeks, weighing just 4 pounds and 12 ounces. Being just 3 weeks shy of what was considered “early term,” I didn’t think this would be a big issue.  But her condition told a different story. 

Breathing tubes. Feeding tubes. Incubators. Machines that beeped around the clock, charting her every heartbeat and breath.

The environment felt harsh at times—rules that seemed almost punishing to parents already under extreme stress.

No eating or drinking.  Only two people are allowed in her area at a time.  No phone calls.  No sleeping permitted.

I know these rules are in place for good reason, but they provided little comfort.

I couldn’t even hold my baby. My arms ached to wrap her up, but all I could do was stare through plastic walls, wondering if she would survive.

Then on Day 2, the NICU nurse asked, “𝗪𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝗸𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗼 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲?”

She explained how skin-to-skin contact helps regulate a baby’s temperature, steady their heartbeat, and strengthen the bond between mother and child. It sounded like heaven.

The next day, I held Lauren for the first time. As her tiny body melted against my chest, everything else—fear, beeping monitors, the smell of antiseptic—faded away. It was just us, breath to breath, heart to heart. My mom whispered through tears, “The look on your face is pure bliss.”

𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲.

The weeks that followed were an emotional roller coaster: tiny victories like her first bath, followed by setbacks—oxygen struggles, jaundice, and even a suspected digestive disorder that kept her fasting for three agonizing days.

After 40 days, we finally came home. My neighbors surprised us with a parade and a house full of flowers. It was a day I wasn't sure would come.

Motherhood didn’t begin the way I imagined. It wasn’t pastel blankets and picture-perfect moments—it was tubes, monitors, and relentless advocacy. 

But it taught me this: 𝗮 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿’𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀.

If you’ve ever spent time in the NICU—or if you’re there now—please know my heart is with you.

There is struggle, but there is also hope. I’m praying you will soon bring your baby home.

#NICU
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