I see you—nervous and overwhelmed—having to leave your little one behind in the hospital because they arrived too soon and need extra care. I see you jotting down notes as the doctor walks you through the array of machines and sounds that surround your precious baby. You’re doing your best to absorb all the medical lingo, the schedules, and timelines, yet your gaze keeps drifting back to your tiny miracle in that isolette, wondering when you’ll finally get to hold her close.
I see you making the daily trek to the hospital, determined to soak in every precious moment with your little fighter. I can picture your shoulders drooping as you brace yourself for yet another long day of visiting your baby, only to leave him behind again.
Then comes the day when you finally bring your baby home—such a joyful occasion mixed with a tinge of anxiety. You might find yourself questioning whether you can care for her as well as the doctors did, wondering if you’ll measure up.
A couple of months later, I see you celebrating the fact that your baby is with you, yet feeling overwhelmed by the constant demands on your time. The appointments with doctors, specialists, and therapists dominate your life now. You remind yourself that your child is a warrior, having fought harder than most to get this far, but that doesn’t always ease your frustration. You often find yourself wondering why your baby had to struggle so much and why this has happened to your family.
I see you at a birthday party for a friend’s child, someone who was born around the time your own baby was due, but arrived much earlier than expected. Your smile is genuine, yet it feels different now. While you’re happy for your friend, it stings to see how far behind your own little one is and how much further they have to go.
Late at night, I see you crying, filled with guilt and worry. If only you had managed to keep your baby inside a little longer… if only you’d insisted on more tests… if only you hadn’t indulged in that extra cup of coffee. You grapple with self-blame, wishing to undo the circumstances that led to this unexpected journey.
You might find yourself turning down invitations to parks or lunches during that first year, terrified of your little one catching a cold. The doctors warned you that this first winter was critical, so you choose to stay home, hoping that come spring, it will all be worth it.
Packing your diaper bag is quite the task—yours is definitely not the average diaper bag. You need hand sanitizer, extra oxygen tanks, and masks to ward off germs. When you venture into stores, it feels like preparing for battle—assessing risks and wishing for a quick trip so your baby remains healthy.
When someone asks about your baby’s age, I can see you hesitating, unsure of which answer to give. The real age comes with so many questions, and you’re just too tired to explain. But you also don’t want to diminish your child’s journey, so you find yourself toggling between answers.
You might question if you’re the mother your baby really needs, wondering if someone else would handle the therapy and appointments better. You look back on your life before—maybe you were working and now staying home, or maybe you want to be home but have to work. It’s not the picture-perfect scenario you envisioned when you thought about motherhood.
I wish I had all the answers for you, but I don’t. I’m searching for them too. Just know that I see you, and you are not alone on this journey.
Warmly,
A fellow Preemie Mom
If you’re interested in more on this journey, check out our blog posts about home insemination options like this one. For a reliable source on insemination kits, visit Make a Mom. And for understanding what to expect with insemination, WebMD offers fantastic insights.
Summary:
Navigating the journey of being a preemie mom can be overwhelming and filled with a rollercoaster of emotions—from anxiety and guilt to joy and frustration. This letter acknowledges those feelings and reassures you that you’re not alone. Embrace the journey, and remember that every step forward is a victory.