17 Days

17 days... that's how long Henry was in the NICU at Cincinnati Children's Hospital. While in the midst of our stay in the NICU it seemed like it was never going to end but now on this side of it I found myself saying we were "only there for 17 days". There are babies that arrived in the NICU weeks before Henry and they are probably still there. I had no idea what to expect of the stay in the NICU but I can tell you our stay in the NICU was nothing like I assumed it would be. I will never forget what it was like being in the NICU for 17 days. The sights, the sounds, the smell the experience is burned in my memory forever.

The first time I saw Henry in the NICU it hurt my heart to leave and head back to the hospital where I was still working on recovery but each day it got a little easier and a little easier. We would stay for a few hours at a time, take a break and then go back for a few more hours. I think the thing that made it easy for me to leave Henry were the nurses. These woman (and men, although Henry never did get a male nurse in the NICU) come along side of your family in the midst of the chaos and they provide stability they provide guidance. I felt a great sense of peace when I would walk away from Henry's bedside each night because I knew he was being cared for by people who cared about him. I cannot speak enough about the Doctors, Residents, Fellows and Nurses that followed Henry while in the NICU they made our stay a little less anxious.

Next to bringing Henry home the greatest thing I walked away from the NICU with was a new perspective. Simply put: Henry just has Spina Bifida. I never thought I would get to the point so quickly in this journey where I would find myself thanking the Lord for Spina Bifida. But when you spend 17 days looking around the NICU and you see babies that weigh little more than a bag of potatoes and they have tubes coming from every nuke and cranny of their tinny bodies, it changes you. You can't walk away from the experience unchanged - you just can't. You go into it not knowing what to expect but leaving with a huge dose of humility. You see other mothers sitting in the waiting room with what looks to be the weight of the world on their shoulders because they've just been told there may be no hope. Or you see babies without their mothers because they have been flown in from other cities, states, and even countries.  You hear alarms going off and nurses who go running into other pods and you find yourself just humbled before the eyes of the Lord.

I spent 17 days sitting in the NICU praying for healing over my son but finding myself also praying for healing and hope for each of the families I met while there. I know there are always going to be people who will look at our life and think "I don't know how they do it - it must be so hard." I know there are going to be hard days, hard conversations, waiting rooms, hospital rooms, MRI images and words that are too big for me to comprehend or spell, but it is my prayer that I would always ALWAYS be able to check my attitude at the door because it's just Spina Bifida. I was able to bring Henry home- not every mother that leaves the NICU has that opportunity.

"Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, 2 then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. 3 Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,4 not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others." Philippians 2:1-4

-Erin-