Delayed But Not Denied :: A NICU Story
I’ve kept this story close to my heart for a long time. Not because I didn’t want to share it or because I was too afraid of all the emotions I might feel — but because, honestly, I wanted to make sure the time was right. Sometimes, I’m still healing from it and still processing what it meant to bring a life into the world before the world was quite ready for him.
Now, I feel like it’s time. Someone out there may be living their own version of my story, and they need to know that they are not alone. There’s still hope. There’s still healing. And most of all — there is always faith.
Gametime: The Night That Changed Everything
On March 16, 2011, I was at home watching a basketball game. And not just any game — a classic matchup between OKC Thunder and Miami Heat, back when the star players were Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook, and James Harden versus LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, and Chris Bosh. Proof that this was a classic game worth remembering. I wasn’t thinking about anything serious. I was comfortable, relaxed, and probably eating a bunch of snacks during my third trimester. Then, I got up to use the bathroom. When I wiped — there it was. Blood. Not much but it was enough to make my heart drop.
I didn’t panic, but I knew something wasn’t right. So I went to the hospital, praying that even though it could potentially be serious, maybe it was just a precaution or a little scare. Maybe it was nothing. When I arrived, I heard the words no pregnant woman ever wants to hear: “We need to deliver your baby now.” I was 29 weeks and 5 days pregnant. And just like that, I had a son. Tiny. Fragile. Impatient. Early.
NICU Life: A Crash Course in Faith and Patience
There are no pregnancy books that truly prepare you for the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit experience. There’s no baby class that teaches you how to watch your newborn baby fight for every breath through glass walls and oxygen tubes. My son didn’t come out cooing and cuddling. He came out fighting like the warrior he is.
He was immediately taken to the NICU, where he would spend the first 90 days of his life. That’s three months of praying over monitors, watching nurses gently care for my child because I couldn’t hold him yet, and learning how to celebrate the tiniest wins — one pound at a time. Every beep of the monitor taught me patience. Every ounce of weight gain taught me gratitude. Every “he’s stable today” taught me hope.
I didn’t get to go home and settle into life with a newborn right away. Instead, I created a new normal filled with NICU visits, sitting by his isolette, and calling for updates anytime I wasn’t there.
Next Level Postpartum Pain
Leaving the hospital without your baby? That’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone. When I was discharged, my baby had to stay behind. And while everyone urged me to rest, I often found myself crying in the middle of the night because I felt helpless. Every day, I watched other moms load their cars and take their babies home while mine was still hooked to wires. I was truly happy for those families, but I couldn’t help but wonder: When would it be my turn to celebrate that joyful milestone?
A Bittersweet Celebration
I had my baby shower after he was born. It was beautiful — but also surreal. I smiled through it with grace, but my heart was still split between celebration and worry. I felt guilty for celebrating my son’s premature life with family and friends while my baby was fighting for his life in the hospital. Eventually, I learned to release the guilt and hold on to grace.
When we finally brought him home, it wasn’t the picture-perfect scene I had dreamed about. He came home with oxygen tanks, cords attached to everything, and breathing machines. He required 24-hour oxygen for 9 months, and then that was reduced to 12 hours a day until he turned 1.
Today, He’s Thriving
His milestones came slower. He didn’t crawl until 1. He didn’t walk until nearly 2. He had to go to physical therapy to learn what most babies just do naturally. But I realized something important along the way: slow progress is still progress. I learned to celebrate that he was moving, breathing, growing, learning, and becoming. He was delayed — but never denied.
He walks. He runs. He eats. He talks. Did I mention that he eats — a lot? He tells jokes that he thinks are hilarious. And the best part of all of this? He has no complications. No delays. No lasting concerns. Just joy, life, and I’m grateful every single day.
This One Is Dedicated To You
If you’re in the NICU right now…
If your baby is still hitting milestones at their own pace…
If you’re staring at monitors and praying for normalcy…
If you simply need to be encouraged…
You are not behind.
You are not broken.
Your child is not forgotten.
You are stronger than you think.
Faith. Grace. Hope.
I didn’t get the birth I planned for. I got something so much more powerful — a story of perseverance, prayer, and promise. This journey taught me that timelines are suggestions, but miracles are guaranteed when God is involved.
Faith doesn’t always look like confidence. Sometimes it looks like showing up tired but expectant. It looks like crying in your car and then walking into the NICU with your heart open, knowing that God’s plan is better than your own.
To every mom navigating a different kind of beginning — your story is still beautiful. In the end, you always win!
