My Story

Dear Nikki,

Your body is trembling. You feel like you can’t breathe. You’re begging them to make the contractions stop but it feels like they’re not listening to you. Chris is right beside you holding your hand. He looks scared but you can tell he’s trying to be strong for you. All you want is for everyone to just stop moving and talking so fast. And your mom. You really want your mom.

After one more assessment the doctors will suggest they can wait a little longer and just like that your wish will come true. Your room will empty except for Chris and one nurse. But you still shake, and Chris still looks scared.


These next few days will be the most painful and scariest days of your life. You will be told all of the possible scenarios of having a premature baby. You will be educated on the risks of developmental delays, physical handicaps, and possible death. You will sign a form giving the doctors consent to take extreme measures to save your little girl’s life. You will endure a pain that literally takes your breathe away. You’ll itch all over and see three of everything because of the steroids that will help your baby’s lung function. After 6 days you’ll be up all night with contractions that just wont stop, rushed into delivery and you will do your best to have your daughter naturally as you grasp to your original plan even if she is coming 16 weeks too early. But everything will go very very wrong and you’ll be numbed from the neck down as you lay exhausted on a table and they scoop your first child out of you. Even though you will be warned that 24 weekers can’t cry when they come out, the silence of her delivery will break your heart. They’ll put your little girl up to your face, snap the picture, and rush her to the NICU. And again, you’ll begin to shake, Chris will look scared, and you still want your mom.

I wish I could tell you the hard part is over… but it’s just beginning. You’ll try to stand up on your own before you’re ready because they wont let you in the NICU until you can have feeling in your legs again. You’ll be wheeled down to the NICU and see the tiniest little human you’ve ever seen. You’ll be so overwhelmed by everything that you think you’ll pass out, but instead you will vomit … in the NICU… in a sterile environment. You will learn how to scrub in any time you want to see your baby, what kangaroo care is, and where you can privately pump every three hours for the next five months. You’ll wait the longest 7 days of your life for her first brain scan to come back to let you know what level brain bleed she has. You’ll wait for tests to come back on her blood levels, her liver, her eyes, and her brain again. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night across town and call the nurses to see how her night is going. You will ride the NICU rollercoaster for five months and you will laugh and you will cry and you will pray and you will beg.


I know it will be hard and I know it will seem impossible on certain days and I know that you will have faith that you wont ever be in the NICU again, and I know that you will be a second time, and a third time, and I know that you will question everything and experience heartbreak and anger and fear and emptiness…

but that’s not all to your story Nikki … there’s so much more that six years later I can tell you.

You will be in pain and you will shake and you will be scared, but you’ll also have an unexplainable peace that tells you your baby girl will be okay. You will stop shaking once the steroids wear off and there will come a time Chris doesn’t look so scared, and your mom does come, and she keeps coming! You will visit your baby girl every single day and you wont think twice about scrubbing in because you get to hold your tiny baby and experience skin to skin all day every day for those first few months.

Those tests that you’re so scared of, they come back clear every.single.time! No brain bleeds, no infections, no failures,… she’s perfect. You will meet the most incredible nurses that give you so much confidence that God went before you even in these small details. You will treasure the highs and you will endure the lows and you will survive the NICU, again, and again, and again.

You will learn why you took this so hard and feel like a failure. But even better, you will learn that is a lie and you will learn to be a little easier on your self. You will forgive yourself and ask for forgiveness. You will receive that forgiveness and you will experience healing, your faith will be restored, and God will get glory from this season of your life.

One day you’ll wake up and realize you have a six year old little girl who is more than ok, she’s perfect. She is kind and loving and extremely in tune with how others are feeling. She is cautious and a perfectionist and she overthinks things, but she is still that strong and fiesty little girl you see fighting to get unswaddled in her incubator. She will tell you how beautiful you are and make your heart melt and she will also ignore you and talk back and make your blood boil (I know that’s hard to believe, but it’s true). She will read to her little brother and she will teacher her little sister how to swim. She will love her family and have a heart for Jesus and she will always be a reminder to you not of a time when God wasn’t there, but of a time in your life where he was so very close and so very kind to you.

You’ll have two little girls and a little boy and they will have your whole heart. You and Chris will grieve together and heal together and you’ll keep praying together and you’ll always be reminded of God’s hand over the life of your children.

You can trust that these days are momentary troubles but there are days ahead that will far outweigh them all.

You can trust that God is a God of seasons, and though this may be your winter, richer the harvest He brings.

You can trust that though these days feel like days for mourning, I can assure you there are many days of dancing ahead.

And 6 years later, that is what you will do. You’ll jump up and down with your six year old daughter and watch her twirl, and you’ll laugh inside because her moves remind you of her daddy.

And your heart will be filled, and you will dance. 


Happy 6th birthday Adyson Joy.

6 thoughts on “Dear Nikki,”



  2. Oh friend. This is so beautiful! Thanks for these words that make me stop what I’m doing to remember the kindness of Jesus. Love you so!!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s