I didn’t take as much time to write about JT’s story as I did with his sister. Sure, she was my tiny little micro preemie that spent months in the NICU, she spent more time in critical care than he did and has always been my little peanut. Her delays were much more notable than his, how could they not be when the developmental differential a 15 week spread. His story just wasn’t as profound, right?

Nope, his story was harder for me to accept. I didn’t feel I was as strong and put together during his NICU stay. I gave birth via C-section this time around because of my fibroid surgery. We knew this would be the case, this wasn’t part of the surprise. I cried in the delivery room when I heard his little cry just the same as the tears I cried giving birth to my daughter. I got to hold my tiny bundle immediately after surgery, all the way to the recovery room and he was heavy on my chest and fussing. I had that one moment I missed out on with my daughter.

He then started to show signs of distress and he was swept away. He was a 35 weeker. After having a micro preemie at 25 weeks, that’s practically full term! I was dreading this turn of events. I knew of 35 weekers that got released with Mom, they would bring him back…but they didn’t.

I was released from the hospital with no baby, again.

I hadn’t cried at his bedside like I had with Sofia. He was “big” at 4lbs. I fell into the rhythm of the NICU. Pump in my room, walk the milk to the NICU…change my baby, hold my baby then, back to the room. The noises of the machines, the beeping alarms and the sound the cannula makes, the smell, it was familiar. It was eerily comfortable. I didn’t cry. I understood this world, I wouldn’t cry at leaving a baby behind for JUST 2 weeks when I survived leaving my baby for 83 days.

We got to the car, I was so excited to get home to my daughter. I knew I wouldn’t cry. We pulled away from the hospital, still not a tear. We got to the light and I lost it. I was leaving my baby, again…AGAIN. I got home and saw the blue balloons, the flowers and the decoration that should have been at the shower I missed…again. There were a stack of gifts that should have been opened in front of friends and family in my aunt’s living room, stretching around a big uncomfortable belly. All I could think was he’s ALMOST full term, how is he not here?

I went the very next day to the NICU to get back into my “traveling to visit” routine. Just 2 days out of the hospital and I was hit with the flu…this could not be happening. I was laid up with a fever from Day 7 to Day 12. Five full days without seeing my baby, five full days being stuck at home with nothing but Tylenol and a pump, this was officially worse than the random day here and there with mastitis. I spent five days crying on and off. I felt helpless. All of my information was received via text as family visited or calls into the NICU. I felt like my poor little boy was just there alone. He was too weak to come home but he was too strong to be considered “critical”.

I remember calling in at one point and being told his feeding had just been started, an hour after his scheduled time, because there were too many other babies on the same feeding schedule. They had to feed him by tube because he had already fallen back to sleep and wouldn’t take a bottle. I felt I couldn’t be the best advocate for him while being away.

I think this was these were the longest days of my life. Once you spend months in the hospital you gain this sense of, dare I say, arrogance that surviving a week or 2 would be a cake walk. I’ve heard Micro Mamas say that late term preemies are not “as preemie” as micropreemies. As if a late term preemie isn’t preemie enough. I’ve now sat on both sides of the spectrum. I’ve held and missed a preemie who was no bigger than a piece of produce and I’ve held and missed a preemie who is just slightly smaller than a full term baby. Leaving a baby is just as hard if it’s 2 weeks or 2 months.

When you sit at the bedside of a micro preemie there isn’t a single doubt of why your baby is there. A “feeder and grower” is just waiting on time to pass for their body to catch up and for the development of suck/swallow/breathe to click. The experiences are vastly different and yet surprisingly similar. We all sit at those bedsides and look down at our tiny miracles hooked to monitors; we hear the same symphony of machines, bustling nurses and tiny cries and wait…

Since being home Jackson has been plagued with colds, coughs and fever much more so than Sofia experienced at the same age. He seems to pick up every little cough and cold. It takes him much longer to recover. To this day Sofia will get sick for a few days but be up and running at almost 100% in no time. This poor little man gets colds that linger for weeks. His system acts more preemie than his big sisters. I never would have thought that just a few weeks early could still hold back his immune system as much as it has. I’ve learned to respect the “label” of preemie. It can mean vastly different things to each tiny miracle. They each have their hurdles. No two are the same.

There’s no such thing as not preemie enough.  

I didn’t take as much time to write about JT’s story as I did with his sister. Sure, she was my tiny little micro preemie that spent months in the NICU, she spent more time in critical care than he did and has always been my little peanut. Her delays were much more notable than his, how could they not be when the developmental differential a 15 week spread. His story just wasn’t as profound, right?

Nope, his story was harder for me to accept. I didn’t feel I was as strong and put together during his NICU stay. I gave birth via C-section this time around because of my fibroid surgery. We knew this would be the case, this wasn’t part of the surprise. I cried in the delivery room when I heard his little cry just the same as the tears I cried giving birth to my daughter. I got to hold my tiny bundle immediately after surgery, all the way to the recovery room and he was heavy on my chest and fussing. I had that one moment I missed out on with my daughter.

He then started to show signs of distress and he was swept away. He was a 35 weeker. After having a micro preemie at 25 weeks, that’s practically full term! I was dreading this turn of events. I knew of 35 weekers that got released with Mom, they would bring him back…but they didn’t.

I was released from the hospital with no baby, again.

I hadn’t cried at his bedside like I had with Sofia. He was “big” at 4lbs. I fell into the rhythm of the NICU. Pump in my room, walk the milk to the NICU…change my baby, hold my baby then, back to the room. The noises of the machines, the beeping alarms and the sound the cannula makes, the smell, it was familiar. It was eerily comfortable. I didn’t cry. I understood this world, I wouldn’t cry at leaving a baby behind for JUST 2 weeks when I survived leaving my baby for 83 days.

We got to the car, I was so excited to get home to my daughter. I knew I wouldn’t cry. We pulled away from the hospital, still not a tear. We got to the light and I lost it. I was leaving my baby, again…AGAIN. I got home and saw the blue balloons, the flowers and the decoration that should have been at the shower I missed…again. There were a stack of gifts that should have been opened in front of friends and family in my aunt’s living room, stretching around a big uncomfortable belly. All I could think was he’s ALMOST full term, how is he not here?

I went the very next day to the NICU to get back into my “traveling to visit” routine. Just 2 days out of the hospital and I was hit with the flu…this could not be happening. I was laid up with a fever from Day 7 to Day 12. Five full days without seeing my baby, five full days being stuck at home with nothing but Tylenol and a pump, this was officially worse than the random day here and there with mastitis. I spent five days crying on and off. I felt helpless. All of my information was received via text as family visited or calls into the NICU. I felt like my poor little boy was just there alone. He was too weak to come home but he was too strong to be considered “critical”.

I remember calling in at one point and being told his feeding had just been started, an hour after his scheduled time, because there were too many other babies on the same feeding schedule. They had to feed him by tube because he had already fallen back to sleep and wouldn’t take a bottle. I felt I couldn’t be the best advocate for him while being away.

I think this was these were the longest days of my life. Once you spend months in the hospital you gain this sense of, dare I say, arrogance that surviving a week or 2 would be a cake walk. I’ve heard Micro Mamas say that late term preemies are not “as preemie” as micropreemies. As if a late term preemie isn’t preemie enough. I’ve now sat on both sides of the spectrum. I’ve held and missed a preemie who was no bigger than a piece of produce and I’ve held and missed a preemie who is just slightly smaller than a full term baby. Leaving a baby is just as hard if it’s 2 weeks or 2 months.

When you sit at the bedside of a micro preemie there isn’t a single doubt of why your baby is there. A “feeder and grower” is just waiting on time to pass for their body to catch up and for the development of suck/swallow/breathe to click. The experiences are vastly different and yet surprisingly similar. We all sit at those bedsides and look down at our tiny miracles hooked to monitors; we hear the same symphony of machines, bustling nurses and tiny cries and wait…

Since being home Jackson has been plagued with colds, coughs and fever much more so than Sofia experienced at the same age. He seems to pick up every little cough and cold. It takes him much longer to recover. To this day Sofia will get sick for a few days but be up and running at almost 100% in no time. This poor little man gets colds that linger for weeks. His system acts more preemie than his big sisters. I never would have thought that just a few weeks early could still hold back his immune system as much as it has. I’ve learned to respect the “label” of preemie. It can mean vastly different things to each tiny miracle. They each have their hurdles. No two are the same.

There’s no such thing as not preemie enough.  

I didn’t take as much time to write about JT’s story as I did with his sister. Sure, she was my tiny little micro preemie that spent months in the NICU, she spent more time in critical care than he did and has always been my little peanut. Her delays were much more notable than his, how could they not be when the developmental differential a 15 week spread. His story just wasn’t as profound, right?

Nope, his story was harder for me to accept. I didn’t feel I was as strong and put together during his NICU stay. I gave birth via C-section this time around because of my fibroid surgery. We knew this would be the case, this wasn’t part of the surprise. I cried in the delivery room when I heard his little cry just the same as the tears I cried giving birth to my daughter. I got to hold my tiny bundle immediately after surgery, all the way to the recovery room and he was heavy on my chest and fussing. I had that one moment I missed out on with my daughter.

He then started to show signs of distress and he was swept away. He was a 35 weeker. After having a micro preemie at 25 weeks, that’s practically full term! I was dreading this turn of events. I knew of 35 weekers that got released with Mom, they would bring him back…but they didn’t.

I was released from the hospital with no baby, again.

I hadn’t cried at his bedside like I had with Sofia. He was “big” at 4lbs. I fell into the rhythm of the NICU. Pump in my room, walk the milk to the NICU…change my baby, hold my baby then, back to the room. The noises of the machines, the beeping alarms and the sound the cannula makes, the smell, it was familiar. It was eerily comfortable. I didn’t cry. I understood this world, I wouldn’t cry at leaving a baby behind for JUST 2 weeks when I survived leaving my baby for 83 days.

We got to the car, I was so excited to get home to my daughter. I knew I wouldn’t cry. We pulled away from the hospital, still not a tear. We got to the light and I lost it. I was leaving my baby, again…AGAIN. I got home and saw the blue balloons, the flowers and the decoration that should have been at the shower I missed…again. There were a stack of gifts that should have been opened in front of friends and family in my aunt’s living room, stretching around a big uncomfortable belly. All I could think was he’s ALMOST full term, how is he not here?

I went the very next day to the NICU to get back into my “traveling to visit” routine. Just 2 days out of the hospital and I was hit with the flu…this could not be happening. I was laid up with a fever from Day 7 to Day 12. Five full days without seeing my baby, five full days being stuck at home with nothing but Tylenol and a pump, this was officially worse than the random day here and there with mastitis. I spent five days crying on and off. I felt helpless. All of my information was received via text as family visited or calls into the NICU. I felt like my poor little boy was just there alone. He was too weak to come home but he was too strong to be considered “critical”.

I remember calling in at one point and being told his feeding had just been started, an hour after his scheduled time, because there were too many other babies on the same feeding schedule. They had to feed him by tube because he had already fallen back to sleep and wouldn’t take a bottle. I felt I couldn’t be the best advocate for him while being away.

I think this was these were the longest days of my life. Once you spend months in the hospital you gain this sense of, dare I say, arrogance that surviving a week or 2 would be a cake walk. I’ve heard Micro Mamas say that late term preemies are not “as preemie” as micropreemies. As if a late term preemie isn’t preemie enough. I’ve now sat on both sides of the spectrum. I’ve held and missed a preemie who was no bigger than a piece of produce and I’ve held and missed a preemie who is just slightly smaller than a full term baby. Leaving a baby is just as hard if it’s 2 weeks or 2 months.

When you sit at the bedside of a micro preemie there isn’t a single doubt of why your baby is there. A “feeder and grower” is just waiting on time to pass for their body to catch up and for the development of suck/swallow/breathe to click. The experiences are vastly different and yet surprisingly similar. We all sit at those bedsides and look down at our tiny miracles hooked to monitors; we hear the same symphony of machines, bustling nurses and tiny cries and wait…

Since being home Jackson has been plagued with colds, coughs and fever much more so than Sofia experienced at the same age. He seems to pick up every little cough and cold. It takes him much longer to recover. To this day Sofia will get sick for a few days but be up and running at almost 100% in no time. This poor little man gets colds that linger for weeks. His system acts more preemie than his big sisters. I never would have thought that just a few weeks early could still hold back his immune system as much as it has. I’ve learned to respect the “label” of preemie. It can mean vastly different things to each tiny miracle. They each have their hurdles. No two are the same.

There’s no such thing as not preemie enough.