Dear NICU Nurse,
It’s been months since my baby was discharged from the NICU, and I’m embarrassed that it has taken this long to write this letter. I know you will understand, and I hope you will ultimately forgive my reason for the delay— the daily grind of taking care of a newborn, a preemie at that, has kept me from reaching out to you sooner. What I want to say to you cannot be left unsaid though, and I wish you can find time to take a much-deserved pause as I thank you, once and for all, for the work that you do and more.
No pregnant woman imagines a birth that would require a NICU stay for the new arrival, and yet that was where we found ourselves. I gave birth to a 30-weeker due to a thinned cervix, and our family meet-cute wasn’t the Instagrammable unang yakap, or a family photo in the Delivery Room with the perfect kilay I prepared. I met my baby 16 hours after birth, and it took everything that I had not to dissolve into a blubbering mess when you, NICU Nurse, wheeled me in front of the incubator. I felt too many things at the same time— exhaustion from that morning’s two-months-too-early surprise birth; gratitude that my baby is here, and I am too; longing, painful longing, to hold my baby in my arms. All these emotions made me feel weak, but I soon learned that there is no room for weakness in the NICU because strength dissipates from each bassinet where a fighting baby survives and thrives.
At that point, 16 hours have passed that my baby knew care and attention only from your watchful presence. Sixteen whole hours that my baby’s vital signs were monitored, that my baby was fed and diaper-changed, that my baby was nurtured by you, their first family, because we weren’t capable nor knowledgeable yet. This was only the beginning of their NICU stay, a stretch of time that seemed endless, especially for a mom who only got to visit her newborn for pockets of time. (There was, after all, an older sibling to still tend to.) I was never too worried about my baby though. I knew all the babies had you and the rest of the NICU team with them.
I would be lying if I said that I never felt resentful that you can defy the bounds of the plastic box that sustained my child. You were allowed to touch and hold, feed (via his oral tube and syringe, something I couldn’t do anyway), cradle and cuddle, and fix and assist when machines showed a slow in breathing. I felt useless, and helpless, but you always assured me that my sitting there was exactly what my baby needed. You encouraged me to talk to my baby and read books. You would say that it was somehow felt when I was there to visit because my baby cried louder and fussed more, that somehow my baby knew me and missed me, making my presence have at least a semblance of purpose. I took the compliment tentatively— I was certain that your constant and precise monitoring was more vital, and so any resentment I had for our predicament was drowned by my admiration for you.
Routine is a NICU-mama’s friend, a quiet act of defiance against the instability of everything else. Everyday, I buzzed the NICU doorbell, washed my hands, and changed into the NICU-prescribed hospital gown and slip-ons. A whiff of the hyper-sterilized air instantly got my heart growing because I got to see my baby again! What followed was my favorite part of that daily routine: our catch-up session. Armed with a clipboard, you shared what I called the “war stats”, and you were always as proud as I was of our brave fighter. From the 5ml increments of feeding volume, to each precious gram that gained and lost and gained again, to the different tubes that were outgrown one by one, you were the happy herald I was always excited to see. Yours were the eyes I searched for answers when machine beeps interrupted our story time. Yours were the hands I studied closely for the precise responses needed, whether it was a quick scratch of body parts that had itchy medical tape, or a tightening of the swaddle that I had to always relearn. It didn’t escape me that you did all these not just for my child but for many other NICU babies too, day in and day out. How exactly, I can only attempt to imagine, but will always fully appreciate.
My baby’s NICU discharge was something I was both excited and scared about. I wanted to finally bring our baby home, yes, but we had one big worry: how can we continue the kind of care in the NICU? As the day approached, I started sharing my anxieties with you in the form of never-ending questions. What is the NICU’s AC temp? When and why does my baby usually cry? What poop color is normal? Like always, you were quick to comfort me during our chats, and eventually during our very detailed turnover session (from bathing to feeding to first-aid response), you said that I will know exactly how to take care of my baby simply because I am the mommy. I still had my doubts and fears, but your confidence in me and all your helpful instructions really helped a lot.
My baby was born at 1.5kg, and it took many days to reach the prescribed “graduation” weight of 1.8kg. (I always joked that I could eat the whole equivalent of that in one regular Samgyup session.) It doesn’t seem much, but those 300 grams became possible only because of the community effort of the most kind, caring, and talented people that I know: the NICU family, most especially, the NICU nurse-mommies.
No pregnant woman imagines a birth that requires a NICU stay, yes, but missing out on that wouldn’t have made our paths cross. Knowing you, and knowing that there are angels like you all over the world who are dedicated to the work that you do, has been one of my life’s greatest treasures. Please keep at it. Please continue assisting doctors in keeping NICU babies alive. Please continue being the source of strength and knowledge for mothers who are grasping at straws in such a challenging time. Please continue being the mommies of these tiny ones who only see your kind eyes (and may I say, always well-groomed kilays) from their bassinets. You are doing such an important job, and we cannot thank you enough for being a NICU nurse.
My baby is a very energetic toddler now, and every time we do something new, I am brought back to that first moment I saw the NICU incubator, a wrinkled and tiny baby, all wired up. My baby has come so far that it’s almost easy to forget, but I am making sure we never do. I am making sure that we always remember all that you have done for our family, so someday, my baby can also say a heartfelt thank you.
Love,
NICU Mama
The Mommy Mundo Preemie Parents Support Group (MMPSG) for parents of preemies and micro preemies aims to provide support and useful information for the parents of premature babies and their care. Please be advised that all information shared herein are for informational purposes only and are not meant to provide any therapeutic results. Please consult with your doctor before undertaking any health related course of action. Mommy Mundo shall not be responsible for any damage suffered by any user for not consulting with a doctor beforehand.
About the contributor
Jojie Perocho-Garcia has been an educator for 14 years now. She keeps her quarantine days busy with preschool and high school tutorials, reading, watching Kdramas, and being MamaJie to her husband Jeb and kids Alba (4yo) and Rogo (1yo). You may find her on Instagram and Facebook as @teachmomsy where she shares education tips, parenting reflections, and homeschooling highlights.
Leave a Reply