During labor, the NICU doctors and nurses had set up a warming bed for Eric. When they finally let me push, Eric was born after only 3 pushes. He was born still and had to be resuscitated. He cried almost immediately afterwards. The NICU staff wrapped him in cellophane so that he would keep warm and rushed him to the NICU. I was given a brief glance of him before they took him away. Since they needed to get him to the NICU as fast as possible and I was still in the last part of labor, they tilted us both up so that I could see him. I just broke down in tears seeing this baby, the tiniest I had ever seen. It is hard to describe the fear and sadness that overwhelmed me.

Cris was able to go see Eric after two hours. He used my cellphone to take pictures of him for me since the staff didn't want me moving just yet. Eric was bruised from head to toe.

The nurses finally decided I was in good enough condition to leave my room after several excruciating hours. I was put in a wheelchair and rolled out to the NICU with an IV in my arm. The nurse let me kiss Eric's tiny feet although Cris was hovering nervously the entire time I did it. It is very sweet how quickly Cris became so protective towards Eric. At the time however, I was annoyed by him refusing to let me touch Eric even though the nurse said it was okay. I needed to touch Eric, to reassure myself, to make a physical connection. Unfortunately, with all of the drugs inside of me, I wasn't able to hold him. My whole body was shaking so bad I could not even walk. It would be another month before I would finally be able to hold Eric in my arms.

I couldn't sleep that night. My mind just wouldn't shut down. I was numb and dazed. I had no idea how I would manage to find the strength to get through this.

The next day after Eric was born, we called our friends and family and let them know. We decided to treat Eric's birth as a celebration, as a reason for joy instead of fear and worry. Our friends Scott, Jackie and Erica came while I was in the hospital and helped me to celebrate my first Mother's Day with balloons and flowers. The next day, on Mother's Day, Cris's family came to visit Eric. I was in the hospital for almost 48 hours so that they could monitor me. They let me stay in the 8th floor instead of transferring me to the 7th, which is what they normally do. The 8th floor was where Eric was and I wanted to be as close to him as possible.


Leaving the hospital was extremely hard. I had to put my faith in people that I had never met. I had to trust these strangers to take care of the most precious thing in my life. The experience was just too weird. It was hard to wrap my head around having given birth, but no baby to bring home. Life was just so off-kilter and every once in awhile, I would catch myself still talking to my stomach, to the baby that was no longer there. The only thing that made it real was the pumping of the breast milk. I did it religiously every 3 hours. It was the only thing that I could do for Eric. It was the only thing that kept me from feeling so helpless.

For Cris, it was donating his blood and going through all the red tape to make a direct donation. These times were very hard on Cris. I could make milk and spend the whole day with Eric. Cris would feel so helpless. He couldn't do anything to make things better. Cris received most of his updates on Eric second-hand. When he was at the hospital, I made sure that Cris would be able to hold Eric as much as he wanted to. Cris would try and give him back to me and I would have to remind him that I was able to hold Eric all day. It was his turn now. Even now, Cris takes every chance to hold Eric in his arms.

For the 109 days that Eric was in the hospital, we never missed a day. We made sure that he always knew that he was loved and never alone. Cris managed to take a couple of weeks off after Eric's birth. When he had to go back to work, he would drop me off and then pick me up after he was done working. Usually we would try to get there early so Cris would have an hour with Eric at the least. The days that we didn't get there early, we would stay later at the hospital, after Cris got off of work, so that Cris was able to get his "Eric fix". There were many times we did not get home until well after midnight.

I'm still amazed that we survived this. There were days when both Cris and I just wanted to curl up in a ball and just pretend none of this was happening. But we got up everyday and went to the hospital. It was never an option not to. I'll never understand the parents who left their babies in NICU until they were done "cooking", never once visiting. It was probably easier for them not to get in too deep until they knew for sure their babies were coming home, but Eric stole our hearts the night he was born. There was just something so deeply precious about him. If Eric could fight so hard to survive, to constantly be poked and prodded, to live in the noise and organized chaos that is the NICU, the least we could do was be there for him. To give him touches that weren't painful, to sing and read to him, to hold him and comfort him, our job was easy compared to his.

To those who have asked how we managed to find the strength, I still don't have an answer for you. We just got up every day and went to the hospital. There were days that nearly broke us and there were days that made it all worth while, until finally there were more good days than bad. It really is an emotional roller coaster to have a child in NICU. It is one of those things that puts you through the fire and tempers you. It colors your perspective and changes everything. It makes certain things seem so trivial and others so precious and bright. It makes you aware of the smallest miracles and you never again take anything for granted.