Thank you for staying

Some mornings I can't help myself, and I don't want to feel alone in the challenges of preemie parenting. So while I tried to get Liam to sleep in his crib, I read blogs of preemie parents.

First I came across the Micro Mom Blog. It was like unraveling one family's personal admixture of joy and pain in reverse chronology, starting with the recent post about how her 3 year old is developmentally delayed and is only now exhibiting signs of happiness. Meanwhile her infant son, born 6 weeks early (actually I later discover he was 34 weeks 5 days, so almost a week older than Liam at 33w6d) is now 12 weeks delayed. My heart sinks at the thought that they can move backward. The post below shows them walking in the march of dimes. The shirts say they walk for Kaitlyn and Quinn, her 3year and 9 month olds, and in memory of Corinne. Who is Corinne? What is the story? I find a link to photos labeled "Corinne and Kaitlyn's birth" and I click on it.

The photo set of her twins being born has to be one of the more vulnerable, raw moments of love and pain Ive ever laid eyes on.

I flipped back and forth among photos entranced and confused. I recognized the breathing tube on baby Kaitlyn as the scuba gear Liam had worn. But baby Corinne wore none. In one photo the red little baby grips the finger of her mom, who looks down smiling but with sadness. As the photos progressed the baby's color turned ashen, which really only became obvious in a photo where the twins lay side by side holding hands. Kaitlin is a reddish orange tangle of monitor wires and breathing tubes. Corinne wears nothing. The final photo was titled "Angel Corinne. Tears were already flowing down my face. Had she been dead all along? Or had I just been privy to her slow departure as the frames clicked by? I went to the album page where a small blurb explained, "Kaitlyn and Corinne were born 13 weeks too soon. Sadly, Corinne passed away in our arms a few hours after she was born. Each of our girls weighed 1.5 lbs."

Before we ever knew Liam would come early, our birth book encouraged us to think of what we'd want to do if the baby died or was stillborn. It encouraged us to dress the baby and take pictures with him because otherwise in the daze of the moment well-meaning hospital staff might whisk him away. We cried talking about it even when it was just theoretical. On my day of bedrest that conversation replayed at the edges of my consciousness while I held it at bay hoping & praying it would not come true.

I also found a post on a NYT blog that was beautifully written that more perfectly captures the NICU experience than anything else I've read or anything I could put to words myself about how having a preemie in the NICU makes the process of falling in love with your baby more complicated. And it helps explain why it is forever different, even though Liam wasn't super early, even if as of now he seems okay.

If you dont have a preemie and want to understand better how the process changes you, spend some time reading the article and force yourself to cry through some of the pictures of sweet Corinne. If you have your own preemie experience, you might find some comfort in knowing you aren't alone.

By the time I finished these two reads, I had tried to put Liam down four times, and each time he slept peacefully for 10-15 minutes before waking up crying. Finally I went in and just cradled him to me, wishing I could forever keep him safe inside my heart. I rocked him and whispered in his ear "Thank you for staying. Please don't ever leave us. God thank you for this baby." And I decided today was a good day to just hold him in my arms and enjoy him while he napped. The dishwasher and shower can wait. My baby will never again be 15 weeks, 7 hours and 26 minutes old.