What they don’t tell you about Preemies
Occasionally she will stop breathing, and this is normal. Week after week after week, you will watch babies and their parents come and go. And you, you will sit in your baby’s corner and feel there is no end in sight. You will be here forever. You stare at all the wires connected to your baby and believe you’re a monster for what you've done to her. You worry the hours you must spend away from her will destroy the relationship you built with her as she grew in your womb and heart. You will be enjoying your day one second and be wracked with guilt the next because you feel you are neglecting her. You will hold her, and she will fuss or stop breathing, and you will wonder if she resents you for forcing her into the world so early. Some days you can barely look at her without bursting into tears. You will be so grateful for the nurses who care for her, yet envious they are doing your job. No one can tell you for certain if she will be okay. And worry will eat you alive. You will be exhausted, driving to visit her every day, but you will do it anyway. You will cherish every single moment you have with her. Every bath. Every diaper change. Every ounce. Every time you lift the blanket covering her incubator and stare at her tiny sleeping body, peaceful and content. Every time you get to hold her against your chest and feel her melt into you, like she is finally home.
Kylie Bejar is a senior at Brigham Young University-Idaho; she is pursuing a bachelor’s degree in English with a cluster in Creative Writing. Her poetry has appeared in The Kaleidoscope. In her free time, she enjoys spending time with her family and going on long hikes through scenic vistas.
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