Dear NICU Parents and Nurses,

Remember every time you step into that hospital, you are someone's hero; do not take that lightly.

You may be afraid of what is yet to come, but I promise you that everything happens for a reason. The tired nights and long days, the endless worrying if you're doing everything right, and the unconditional love you give to your baby will all be worth it in the end. Though their entrance into this world may have been chaotic, life will gradually get more and more peaceful for your baby; that is something you have to believe. You have to keep reminding yourself that the long drives to and from the hospital are what make it possible for the babies you care for to get stronger every day.

I know you have dark days. Your baby lost weight, or maybe they stop breathing. You love this little person so much, but you're afraid to hold them out of fear you may break their little bird bones. You think it is too overwhelming; you think "I didn't sign up for this," but you did, and I promise that you are tough enough to get through these first days, and so is your baby.

Your hands are rough from the number of times you've had to scrub them today. You haven't gotten any sleep in the last 36 hours. You are in desperate need of a shower and a cup of coffee. To top things off, you don't know how your baby is doing; everything seems like it's up in the air. It won't always be like this.

20 and a 1/2 years ago, my parents were in the same boat as you. They thought they had four more months to prepare for my arrival, but life doesn't always go according to plan. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. My mom went into labor at 24 weeks gestation, there was a blizzard outside, and my dad's car got a flat tire. It didn't help matters at all when my infant bowel burst and they read me the last rites before I had ever even seen the light of day. Being born at just one pound, four ounces, 11 3/4 inches long, life looked pretty bleak for me in the beginning.

Thankfully, a wonderful doctor somehow miraculously saved my life by performing emergency surgery. Though my family sighed in relief at the news of my surgery being successful, there was still a long road for me to go in the NICU. I was hooked up to all sorts of machines; I looked like a tiny power strip with all of my tubes and cords plugged into me. I had IVs, feeding tubes, breathing tubes, incubators, and everything else you can think of. I lost weight, which is one of the scariest things that can happen to NICU babies. Every ounce gained counts. I was a mere 15 ounces at my smallest. I even held a record at the hospital I was born at for being the smallest baby to survive, which allowed me to have the title of the "March of Dimes' Baby of the Year" in 1996. I ended up being in the hospital for 105 days before I could come home for the first time, but even after leaving, I wasn't out of the woods yet. My immune system was still incredibly fragile, and even though I was three months old, I was developmentally behind and would be for while.

The good news is, though, life got better, as it always does after the dark days. I got stronger and healthier, and started growing like every other child. I went to school and made lots of friends. I learned to love art and hate math. I snuck cookies before dinner and pleaded to stay up past my bedtime. I grew up and learned how to play guitar, paint, draw, read, act, and live like everyone else. I graduated ranked 7th in my high school class and am now attending college and following my dreams. None of that would have ever been possible without my NICU parents and nurses, and I will never be able to repay them for all they did for me in my darkest hours.

Though the road may be rough now, no matter what happens to your baby, or who they grow up to be, you are changing their little lives for the better with every visit, every feeding, and every cautious move you make from here on out. It may be exhausting, stressful, and terrifying now, but someday, I promise you, it will all have been worth it.

Here's to you, NICU parents and nurses: go get a cup of coffee and scrub your hands raw; your baby will thank you for it one day, but for now, I thank you for them.

Love,

A Grown-up NICU Baby