This true story was submitted to us by Amy via social media.
I was humbled very early in my childbearing. I had two premature daughters, very premature.
One was three months early and the other almost four months early. I saw them in our world way underdeveloped, but I loved them just the same. I was forever changed as I watched my children grow and worry about survival within the walls of a glass box.
Elizabeth was my first born. She spent two months in the NICU. She never got to come home with us. She was just too tiny to make it in our world. When Elizabeth died, I did too. I was here. I had a beating heart and breath in my lungs, but was not alive.
But my second is Caroline and her birth was nothing short of a miracle. She is sitting on the couch next to me watching toons right now. She spent ninety-three long days in the hospital before she finally came home.
But the truth is, I knew the moment she was born that she would be alright.
I knew she would have a long road before coming home, but God made his presence known in that delivery room. The whole room was glowing. I couldn’t hear the doctors talking to me and I felt the bright sun warming my skin.
It was God’s hand saying that He’s here and she was going to be okay. And she was and is.
Through all of that, I spent a total of five months visiting, and basically living, in the NICU. I saw all sorts of tiny babies all with one thing in common – The will to live.
All their tiny bodies are compelled to live. Even embryos in a lab, with no maternal signals, are autonomous. They all try to live even at the earliest stages.
I feel so passionately about children after my experiences. I saw so many babies survive who were much worse off than my girls. I befriended a mother whose baby was also in the NICU. Her daughter was nine ounces at birth. That’s right, less than one pound. She will be two in May.
I’ve witnessed so many miracles in that place and know that more babies deserve a chance at life.