Each nurse I encountered at the hospital left a lasting impression on me. I won’t forget any of their faces for the rest of my life.

Had that one nurse not broke and let me in, his journey would be so different. Our journey would be so different.  

During those critical first days, it was the NICU nurses who cared for our son. They were the first ones to tell us about him—over the phone, with compassion and care. Though we had not yet met him, we were comforted in knowing he was in their hands. They monitored his symptoms closely, provided medical attention, and just as importantly, gave him love until we could be there ourselves.

So this morning on National Grief Awareness Day, I let myself sink into that pool of grief in my heart for just a little while. I carefully hung six padded panels above my son’s bed where he often slams his head into the wall when he is angry or refusing to nap. I am grieving that these panels need to be hung because I can’t stop him from hurting himself. I am grieving that he wants to hurt himself at all. I’m grieving the juxtaposition of these obnoxious panels next to the sweet, soft, tones of the custom art hanging above them - an illustration that I created and framed just for him a few days before he was born; a centerpiece to the gentle puppy-themed nursery I designed with every bit of love and anticipation in my heart. His experience of infancy and toddlerhood and my experience of early motherhood have been anything but gentle. But I believe that grief and joy can co-exist. 

My most important piece of advice- They are SO SPECIAL! Watch for the areas where THEY shine and don’t put too much focus on the areas they don’t. What will come, will come in time. What won’t come, won’t. Trust me when I say- it took me a LONG time to come to this point. We have in our mind what is “normal” and trying to cram these sweet babies into that box will only frustrate you and them. They have a gift- find it and celebrate it!