Mother’s Day…

Mother’s Day has always carried a heaviness for me. And waking up today, is nothing different.

For a long time, this day represented grief before it ever represented motherhood. I watched my mom battle ALS, a disease that slowly takes pieces of someone away while you stand there helplessly loving them through it. Watching someone you love disappear in front of you is something that changes your soul forever. There’s no way to truly explain the heartbreak of grieving someone while they are still physically here. The memories of those days still live inside me, especially on holidays like this.

For years after losing her, I wondered what motherhood would even look like for me. Could I ever be half the woman she was to me?

Then came IVF.

What people don’t always see behind IVF are the endless appointments, the medications, the shots, the bruises, the tears, the waiting, and the emotional rollercoaster that never seems to stop. It becomes your entire life. You start measuring time in appointments and phone calls. You try to stay hopeful while also protecting your heart from another disappointment. Month after month. Procedure after procedure. Loss after loss of what you thought things would look like.

There were so many moments I questioned if this would ever happen for us. So many moments I wondered if my body would ever cooperate long enough to let me become a mom.

And then somehow… one embryo became two little boys. To this day it still feels like black magic. One embryo. Two heartbeats. Two lives. Two miracles. IMPOSSIBLE!!

But even then, our journey didn’t suddenly become easy…. Of course not.

Pregnancy quickly became terrifying. Instead of enjoying the milestones everyone talks about, we were trying to survive them. I spent 19 days hospitalized while doctors monitored me and the boys constantly, trying to buy us more time. Every day mattered. Every hour mattered. My placenta was failing in ways that threatened all three of our lives, and suddenly pregnancy became less about preparing for babies and more about trying to keep everyone alive long enough to give the boys a fighting chance.

Those 19 days were filled with fear, uncertainty, alarms, tests, conversations no parent ever wants to have, and constantly wondering what would happen next.

Then our boys arrived at just 27 weeks and 3 days.

Nothing prepares you for seeing your babies that tiny. Nothing prepares you for becoming a mother in an operating room filled with urgency and fear instead of celebration. Nothing prepares you for watching your newborns immediately become patients in a hospital. Dark lights, noises and a lot of people.

Since that day, motherhood has looked very different than what I imagined.

Motherhood for me has been NICU life.

It has been ventilators, oxygen numbers, rounds, surgeries, feeding struggles, cultures, setbacks, and tiny victories that most people would never even notice.

It has been learning medical terminology I never wanted to know. It has been celebrating things like weight gain, stable oxygen settings, dirty diapers, and missing the moments where they could peacefully sleep on our chests. We get a few snuggles but nothing like it should be…. We can’t pick them up from the beds and comfort them. We have to wait, wait for the nurses to help.

It has been sitting bedside for hours listening to monitors beep while trying not to spiral every time a number changes. It has been trying to be strong while feeling completely helpless.

Our journey started with 6 weeks at CDH, and now we are 8 weeks into life at Lurie’s in downtown Chicago, with no clear end in sight. Every time we think we are moving forward, there’s another hurdle, another unknown, another thing to process.

And yet somehow, despite all of it, these boys continue to amaze me….

They fight every single day.

And because they fight, so do we.

Mother’s Day this year is complicated. It holds grief for my mom. It holds trauma from infertility. It holds fear, exhaustion, anxiety, and heartbreak from our NICU journey. It holds the reality that I still haven’t brought my babies home yet.

But it also holds gratitude.

Because after everything it took to get here, I get to be their mom.

I get to hold their tiny hands. I get to stare at their faces for hours. I get to comfort them through hard moments. I get to love them in ways I dreamed about for years.

One day, I hope Mother’s Day looks different.

I hope one day it’s loud and chaotic in the best ways. I hope one day there are sticky hands, running feet, bedtime cuddles at home, and healthy little boys who truly understand how deeply loved they are.

But until then, I will continue to show up exactly where they need me.

I will continue fighting beside them.

I will continue advocating for them.

I will continue loving them

through every setback, every milestone, and every uncertain moment ahead.

Because every single thing it took to get here was worth it…. Always and forever 🩵💙