This letter was written to Jessica Valenti in response to her wonderful blog post Living in the Shaky Place.  If you are a mother going through a NICU experience or in the first years after one.  I hope that you will find comfort and understanding in both her post and this one.  I wish you blessings on your journey.

Dear Jessica,

Your blog post Living in the Shaky Place is brilliant and beautiful.  I admire your honesty and your courage.  I have been speaking about our own NICU experience, and the PTSD that followed, for three years now and I still monitor myself in interviews.  I want to express how different it was from a natural birth.  I also want people to know that we are okay, that we are a very happy family, and that we are profoundly grateful for our birth experience.

I, too, had preeclampsia but we did not know it until years after our emergency birth due to a placental abruption.  After my son was out of the NICU we asked everyone we could talk to what happened and no one even mentioned preeclampsia.  It was not until I was performing Angel Baby Lullabies for the first time that I heard Eleni Tsigas talk about the symptoms of sudden onset preeclampsia that I knew that was what we had gone through.  By then, my son was 5.

I want to tell you that I see what an amazing and strong person you are and that I am so proud of you.  We all learn lessons in our parenting journey but those of us who have gone through a NICU experience get them very early on in the timeline.  What I learned on that emergency room table was that sometimes all I can do is breathe deeply and pray.

After we were all safe, the hospital social worker counseled me that I would need to mourn the birth I did not have.  While this may be true for some mothers, it did not speak to me at all.  I told her I was too busy being grateful that we were both alive.

While I had dreamed of and planned for a natural birth, our emergency birth blessed me with lessons I would never have received otherwise and I am a better mother for it.  That said, when a friend has a natural birth I do wonder what that would have been like.  I don’t think I mourn the birth I did not have, but I do wish that some people around me had been able to see more clearly the strength it took to handle things as well as we did.  I am proud of us as a family and proud of myself as a mother.  I see our birth as a triumph in which we all pulled together and supported one another in a very difficult time.

People would ask me when we finally got our son home, “Aren’t you ever going to put that baby down?”  I didn’t.  Other mothers may handle this time differently but for us, this was our way of healing.  People who have not been through it, do not understand the shock and fear of these deliveries.  They can’t understand the pain of not being able to hold your own baby because they are too weak or sick.  They don’t understand the panic you feel just letting your child out of your sight.  It takes a long time to let go of the fear of almost losing your child. I couldn’t leave my son for almost a year without having a panic attack, and sleep was just not a part of my life in any meaningful way.

I appreciate the extra strength it takes to let someone else watch your child.  I know the extreme courage it takes every time your child has a sniffle not to believe that it is something more serious.  It gets better.  It really does.

Despite my post traumatic anxiety, I know I was always a good mother to my son.  I was aware on some level of the emotional fog I was in and I consciously engaged with him.  I had mantras I would repeat over and over again, “I have a healthy baby now…I have a healthy baby…I have a healthy baby…”  Our son contracted Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome when he was just 14 months old and we almost lost him again.  After this second shock, it took me months before I stopped waking up in a panic thinking that “something” was wrong.

Thank you for putting your experience into words and sharing it with the world.  I know that they will help many mothers who are in the height of their experience to explain themselves and to know that they are not alone.  When we were going through it, I felt like I was losing my mind and I had no words to tell anyone what was happening.  I couldn’t even understand it myself.   Your thoughts would have helped a lot.

The purpose of this post is to affirm your experience, your strength and to let you know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  Mommy jingles, writing my book, Transformational Mothering,  music and prayer got me through and got me my “happy mommy self” back.  You and your daughter will find your own way, together.

People who have not been through what you have will say thoughtless and hurtful things.  Try not to take their ignorance personally.  If they cannot see the hero in you then that is their loss.  I know how painful it is to reach out to another mother hoping for support and finding that they cannot relate to your experience.

I know what it is like to be rejected when you speak honestly about your experience.  It is horrible.  But as Marilyn Monroe said, “If you can’t take me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.”  There are mothers who can understand and we are here for you.  You are a part of a community and from now on, anytime you meet someone who has had a very sick child there will be a deep and profound bond of love and understanding between you.  Reach out to us.  We are holding you in our hearts and in our prayers.

In admiration and with love,

Amy