i see you (“ICU”), mama

by Krishna Patel

dear mama,

it’s 1 year later—the longest, hardest year of your life and also a year where you cultivated so much strength, courage, fortitude, presence, and love.

i want you to know i see what this past year has been like for you.

i know 9/11 was a tough day for you and will always remind you of so many tough emotions like alarm, terror, disbelief. i know you had no idea you would need to call 911 that day or that you would go into really early preterm labor at just 23 weeks and 0 days. i know you could’ve never expected this, especially as you and papa glossed over the “preterm labor” part in Expecting Better.

i know you would’ve held on and endured the pain for months if it meant giving me more time, but time wasn’t on our side. i came just 5 days later, 3 OR visits later. Born on September 16 at 6:33pm, 15 oz, 10.5 in, 23 weeks, 5 days.

i know you didn’t get to play your anticipated labor & delivery playlist. you didn’t get to hear me cry. you didn’t get to hold me right after i came out. instead, i was rushed through a window as they tried to save my life for 2 terrifying hours. you didn’t even know if i was going to make it, but you kept hoping for the best. i know you found it hard to breathe and stop crying when they told you i was very sick and painted a very grim picture only a couple hours after you gave birth to me.

i know you did everything you could to give me a safe home to grow. i know you will always blame yourself regardless. i know you had so many questions that day of what happened, why it did, what would happen to me. i know you and papa had to make really hard decisions really fast—and i am so lucky you courageously chose to give me a fighting chance and to fight like hell for me to be born as your son.

i know you fell in love with me as your son long before you went into labor, long before i was born. i know you already couldn’t imagine a life without me. the thought alone physically pained you.

i know you were so scared of what would happen to me once i was in the NICU. i know the first couple days, weeks, and months were full of uncertainty and so heart wrenching—especially when they gave you the results of my brain ultrasound and the weeks you spent toiling on what to do for me next. i know you couldn’t get a straight answer from anyone—nurses, doctors, or even the chaplain—whether you should expect i’d come home so you could get my room ready for me.

i know you spent many days crying, along with papa—in our home, during and after family meetings, while eating at restaurants, around all the different spaces of the hospital, especially after leaving me at the hospital at night.

i know you learned the ultimate meaning of devotion and sacrifice you would spend the next 7 months—or 211 days—by my side in the hospital every single day—doing skin to skin with me, talking to me, singing to me, celebrating with me, quarantining for me, advocating for me, pumping for me—and would do so for 12 whole months even though it took a toll on you physically, mentally and emotionally.

i know how much you loved being pregnant and how i cut your pregnancy way too short. i know you never got to feel my first kick—and trust me, i would’ve been scoring goals in your tummy. i know you never got to have a baby shower and feel showered with love, joy, and anticipation for my arrival. i know you never got to finish getting the house or nursery ready for me before i came into the world, which was your 3rd trimester plan. little did you know, i wouldn’t even be able to come home until a long time later.

i know you feel cheated. i know you feel robbed. i know you feel misunderstood. i know it feels hard sometimes to be in spaces and relate with other mamas. i know you are still grieving and processing it all.

i want you to know i see you. i want you to know i feel it all with you. i want you to know i love you with all my heart.

nothing about this past year was how it was supposed to be, but it is how it was meant to be—because I got to see you, feel you, and love you 4 months sooner and longer this way.

love,

Nico