Dear NICU Mom: Finding Hope in the Hospital Room

September is Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) Awareness Month. It is a time to honor NICU patients, their families, and the healthcare professionals who care for them. The month focuses on raising awareness about the challenges faced in the NICU, supporting families during stressful times, and promoting research and initiatives that improve care for premature and medically fragile newborns.

My firstborn, Oliver, was born 8 weeks before his due date. At the time, I didn’t recognize the signs of active labor because never in a million years would have I have thought of my baby being born that early. When contractions became impossible to ignore, my husband Chris and I rushed to the hospital and were rushed into a delivery room. Two very short hours later, my son was laid on my chest for the briefest of seconds, then promptly whisked off to another part of the hospital for care. The next time I saw him, he was in an incubator, his tiny body hooked up to various hoses, tubes, and monitors. All we could do was stick our hands through one small hole to touch him. Before the night was over, he was rushed across the hall to the NICU at Texas Children’s to start receiving critical care. He stayed there for 3 months.

During those 85 days we faced a rare medical condition we had never heard of before, surgery at 3 days old, recovery, feeding issues, blood sugar problems, and several Code Blue incidents. We lived out the phrase, “One step forward, two steps back,” every single day of those long 85 days. We faced fear, anxiety, depression, and the unknown that comes along with caring for a baby with special needs. And by God’s miraculous grace, we overcame. Oliver is now a happy, thriving 4 year old who has shattered every statistic assigned to children with his condition. His specialist doctors were amazed at his progress the first few moths after he was home; now, hardly anyone can tell he was born a preemie! We give God glory every day for the miracle He allowed us to be a part of because we get to share that testimony with others.

Looking back now, there was so much I needed to hear as a NICU parent - words that would’ve provided healing and hope. So I’ve composed a letter I wish I could’ve received from someone who had already experienced what I was going through. It is dedicated not only to my journey, but to those of my fellow NICU Mamas, both past and present. Whether your stay was a few minutes, hours, days, weeks, or months, whether things turned out like you prayed for or they didn’t, whether you made it out with minor scars or still carry open wounds, I hope these words minister to you. 

Dear NICU Mom,

Welcome to the sisterhood you never asked to join, yet one that is full of the strongest women you will ever meet. Women who, like you, who were suddenly thrust into a journey they never planned for. Women whose lives were forever changed in a moment—whether months or moments before delivery. Women who have felt fear and heartbreak in ways few others can understand, yet who have discovered an inner strength they never knew they had.

I know you had such wonderful plans in place. From the minute you saw the positive line on the pregnancy test, you had the first ultrasound, and you heard the first heartbeat, you began to dream. You began to imagine how your pregnancy and birth experience would go. How you would immediately hold your little one in your arms with no intention of ever letting go. How after two or three days in the hospital, you, your husband and your baby would be able to go home to start life out as a new little family. It was a picture of perfection. Until it wasn’t.

Instead, you were handed, well, this. Shock. Pain. Panic. Doubt. Guilt. Blame. Heartache. And fear. Incredible, inescapable fear. The fear that you did something wrong. The fear that your body failed you. The fear that your baby is broken. The fear that you will never go home. The fear of the unknown. The fear of the future.

The scars that this place will leave you are permanent, yes—the trauma of sounds and lights, alarms and monitors and beeps and buttons and tubes. But with time, those scars will fade. They will remind you of how strong and resilient you and your baby are. You will look back at them and wonder how in the world you made it through. Some days they will be a constant reminder; some days, you will forget they were even there.

They tell a story, your story, of how you walked through fire and were not consumed. Of how you prayed when you had no words left. Of how you cried until no tears were left. Of how you held on when everything in you wanted to let go. Of how you continued to fight for your child when you were exhausted. Of how you continued to love when your heart was breaking.

Psalms 34:18 says “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”

Those scars, both seen and unseen, will one day remind you not only of your own strength, but of the God who was there with you every step of the way. The One who collected every tear, heard every whispered prayer, and carried you and your baby through when you could not carry yourselves.

So, dear NICU Mom, I want you to know—you are not alone. God is in the hospital room with you. He is in every beep of the monitor, every sleepless night, every anxious prayer whispered through tears. He is holding your baby when you cannot. He is holding you when you feel like you cannot take another step.

One day, you will look back and realize that the same God who carried Israel through the wilderness carried you through the NICU. And the story He is writing in your life—even through the pain and the unknown—will become a testimony of His unending faithfulness.

Take courage, Mama. You and your baby are miracles in the making.