Letter Nine

November 30, 2006 

To the NICU Mom in the room next to me,

I’ve been trying to not intrude on your privacy. We all feel like we’re in a fish bowl here. But I can see you in your room and I see your tiny little baby. How did we get hear? This is not what the picture of having a baby is suppose to look like. I guess that picture is gone now.

This place is so scary. I’m always afraid of the news about Noel, every time the doctor comes in I’m assuming she’s bringing bad news. I can’t believe l’ve met other families who have been here for months. How can that be? Every day I wake up wondering when are we going home? 

I feel angry sometimes that we’re here. I feel like I can’t do anything for my baby. I can’t wait until I can just be alone with my daughter. I appreciate all the nurses and doctors who are caring for her, but I just want to go home.

I’m sure you’re asking the same thing. I wonder how long you have been here and what’s going on with your baby. I’m sure it would be rude for me to ask you, so I don’t. But I just feel so lonely and wonder if we could be friends. Friends in this terrible situation we’re in. 

But truth is how can we have a friendship when we can’t leave our babies sides? I mean sure we may pass each other in the hall or sit near each other in the cafeteria, but we’re too full of guilt about being away from our babies to make eye contact. We hardly have any energy to talk; we’ve had to tell the same story of our pregnancy, labor, and delivery a thousands times. 

We’re both probably too full of our own emotions anyway to even be there for each-other. I feel like my emotions are on overdrive, their running wild. This is my first baby so I assume some of this is normal with all the hormones. But the other racing emotions can’t be normal? Every time an alarm starts beeping my heart rate sky rockets. It’s usually just a signal not picking up, but still you never know.

Are you feeling the same way I’m feeling? Like you want someone to help you but you just don’t know what to say? I mean how can anyone help us when I feel like I can’t even help myself. 

Are you overcome by the what if questions? These thoughts are constantly running through my mind: What if she doesn’t make it? What if we have to stay here for months? What if it’s my fault that she’s here? What if she has a permanent condition? 

What are your what if’s questions? I’m sure if I heard yours I could tell you how it’s all going to be ok. That you need to take it one day at a time. Don’t think so much about tomorrow, just get through today. Funny I guess I should listen to my own advice.

Well friend, we’ll probably never actually talk so I’ll just leave you this letter. I just wanted you to know that I see you. I see how hard this is. You’re not alone even though at times you feel like you are. I hope you get to go home soon with your sweet little baby. 

Tina