This is not how I thought I’d meet you my son. In your plastic bubble, I don’t feel like a mom. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Can’t hold you, or feed you, or rock you to sleep. These are not the memories I expected to keep. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ So quiet and fragile, “it’s my fault” I weep. Each night we go home with an empty car seat. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “Can I hold him?” I ask. She says “you may soon, just not today.” “Maybe tomorrow will be the day.”
Even though I only get to behold you for now, it makes my life full of bliss just to see you in sight. Here, I patiently await to give you a kiss.
I cradle my pump until my body is dry, filling the freezer with my supply. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “Liquid gold” they say to help fix you. Drink up my sweet boy, it’s all I can do. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Amongst the fear, the hell, and the anguish there is light, a magic, and hope that all will be well. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Late at night amongst tubes, the beeps, and the wires, we form a bond that could start fires.
After 7 days of life is the day i finally get to hold you, so little and fragile my emotions running wild would not dare take a breath just in case it would hurt you. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Nurses whisper and sing you a sweet lullaby, they hold my hand “it’ll be ok mama” as I cry. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ They touch you tenderly, you’re theirs on loan. Filling you with love until you’re ready for to come home. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ When we finally leave it’s bittersweet. We’ll never forget those we meet. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ In those sterile walls, hands washed red raw I hear the beeps long after leave those halls. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Joy and nerves as towards home we drive We’ll be sure to tell you about your start in life my sonshine. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 1 in 7 need the help of NICU I just didn’t think it would be you.