Oct 27th - 9 months and a lot of emotions

Nine Months. A Lifetime of Love. A Life on Pause.

Nine months. 273 days. Nine months of fighting, praying, crying, celebrating, surviving, and loving harder than we ever knew was possible.

Today, Colton and Declan are NINE MONTHS OLD! 🥹💙💙

Nine months ago, two tiny little boys entered this world at just 27 weeks, weighing barely over a pound each. We had no idea what was ahead of us. No idea how many mountains we would have to climb, how many times our hearts would break, or how much strength two tiny humans could have.

And look at them now.

💙 Colton is exactly 15 pounds! Our sweet, patient, snuggle-loving little fighter. His smile can turn even the hardest day around. He continues to amaze us with his strength and determination.

💙 Declan is 15 pounds, 13 ounces! Our wild, spunky little warrior who keeps everyone on their toes. And yes, if you noticed the sweet potatoes all over his face AND shirt in his nine-month pictures, that’s because our messy little boy decided to have a feast before picture time! We took the pictures anyway, because honestly, that’s our Declan!

These boys have grown so much. And in nine months, so have we.

But today, as we celebrate this milestone, I also find myself reflecting on just how incredibly hard these nine months have been.

Nine Months of a Life on Pause

Most women spend nine months pregnant.

I was pregnant for six. And I’ve now spent more time in the NICU than I spent carrying my babies.

Read that again!!!

And we still have months ahead of us.

Sometimes I don’t think people truly understand what that means.

Think back to January. Think about everything you’ve done since then. The holidays, birthdays, family gatherings, dinners with friends, grocery store runs, walks outside, vacations, workdays, and ordinary evenings at home.

Now imagine putting almost all of that on pause.

For nine entire months.

That’s been our life.

My days have been spent walking between the Ronald McDonald House and the hospital. Every. Single. Day.

I’ve missed time with family. I’ve missed friends. I’ve stepped away from my career, my hobbies, my passions, and so many pieces of the life I once knew.

I’ve missed being a wife in the traditional sense. I’ve missed being home with Ryan. I’ve missed my dog, Riley. Gosh I miss Rusty 💔😭…. I’ve missed the simplest things that most people don’t even think twice about.

I’ve had a few Sundays when I’ve been able to go home. And even then, my heart isn’t really there. Because my heart is in two hospital beds in Chicago.

The world has continued moving forward while ours has stood still.

And that’s a feeling I don’t think I will ever be able to fully explain.

The Part People Don’t See

I know people mean well. I know people try to understand. And I know that sometimes it’s hard to find the right words.

But unless you’ve lived the NICU life, unless you’ve watched your babies fight for their lives, celebrated the smallest victories, and then had the rug pulled out from underneath you the very next day, it’s impossible to truly understand.

There are highs that make you feel like you’re on top of the world.

And lows that bring you to your knees.

Sometimes all in the same day.

So when people try to relate, offer advice, or tell us how we should feel, I just ask that you choose your words carefully.

We know you care. We know your intentions are good. But no one can truly understand the weight of what Ryan and I have carried every single day for nine months unless they’ve walked this road.

And that’s okay. I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone.

But please don’t mistake our ability to keep going for this being easy.

Don’t mistake my smile for everything being okay.

And don’t mistake the fact that this has become our normal for it being a life we’ve gotten used to.

Because we haven’t.

Some days, I feel like a shadow of the person I once was.

I can smile. I can laugh. I can carry on a conversation and pretend that everything is normal.

But if you really knew what was going on inside my heart, you’d understand just how much of me has changed.

The People Who Have Carried Us

And with all of that said, I need to talk about the incredible people who have helped us survive these nine months.

Our medical team. Our nurses. Our doctors. The people who have loved our boys, advocated for them, celebrated their victories, and stood beside us during some of the scariest moments of our lives.

You are so much more than a medical team to us. You’ve become family.

And then there are the NICU moms….

The moms who have already walked this road. The moms who are walking it right alongside me. The moms who understand without needing an explanation.

The ones who know what it means to celebrate a good blood gas, a lower ventilator setting, a successful feeding, or simply an uneventful day.

The moms who have helped us navigate the overwhelming world of medical equipment, home nursing, and what life after the NICU might look like.

Some of these women started as complete strangers and have become forever friends. (Dorm sisters!!!!)

I will forever be grateful for the people this journey has brought into our lives.

You have helped me feel less alone in a world that can be incredibly isolating.

And to everyone who has continued to check in, please know how much it means.

The random text that says, “Thinking of you.”

The simple “I love you.”

The “Keep pushing forward.”

The Starbucks gift card that shows up when I need a little pick-me-up.

The people who don’t expect a response but just want me to know they’re there.

The little things.

Those are the things that have meant the most.

You don’t need to have the perfect words. You don’t need to fix anything. Sometimes just reminding me that I haven’t been forgotten is more than enough.

I’m Not the Same Person I Was in January

This is probably the hardest part for me to put into words.

For so much of my life, I’ve been the person who shows up. The person who celebrates everyone else’s milestones, makes the plans, remembers the little things, and puts other people first.

And I loved being that person.

But right now, I can’t be her.

I can’t be everywhere. I can’t show up for every celebration, every exciting life change, or every important moment in someone else’s life.

Not because I don’t care.

But because every ounce of energy I have is going toward keeping myself together and being there for my boys.

And if you expect me to show up the way I once did, I need you to understand something.

My life hasn’t been moving forward the same way yours has.

For nine months, my entire world has revolved around two little boys fighting battles they never should have had to fight.

I am exhausted in ways sleep cannot fix.

I am emotionally drained in ways I cannot explain.

And I am doing the absolute best I can.

I hope one day I can find pieces of the old Kylie again. But I also know I’ll never be exactly the same person. This experience has changed me forever. And maybe that’s okay.

Because the person I am becoming is a mom who will do absolutely anything for her children.

My priorities are Ryan, Colton, Declan, and Riley.

That’s where my heart is. That’s where my energy goes. And right now, that’s where it needs to stay.

I’m not apologizing for putting my family first.

Ready for Our Next Chapter

As hard as these nine months have been, I look at Colton and Declan and see two incredible little boys who have overcome more than most people will in a lifetime.

And I know we have so much more ahead of us.

I’m ready for the next chapter.

I know it won’t be easy. Bringing medically complex babies home will come with an entirely new set of challenges.

There will be medical equipment, appointments, home nurses, and a house that may never feel completely private again.

There will be sleepless nights, new routines, and a whole new world to navigate.

But you know what?

I cannot wait for those challenges.

Because those challenges mean we get to be together.

It means waking up under the same roof as my husband and our boys.

It means having Riley there, too.

It means no longer having to say goodnight to my babies and walk out of a hospital.

It means finally getting to be a family of five in our own home.

And after everything we’ve been through, that sounds like the most beautiful thing in the world.

I don’t know exactly when that day will come. And I’m not putting a timeline on it.

But I pray it’s sooner rather than later.

Because one day, I want to write the words I’ve been dreaming about for nine months.

We’re home. All five of us. Together. 💙

Happy Nine Months, My Sweet Boys

Colton and Declan, you have no idea how much you’ve changed our lives.

You have taught us what true strength looks like. You’ve shown us that miracles happen every day, even in the smallest moments.

You’ve given us reasons to smile on days when we didn’t think we had anything left.

And you’ve made me prouder than I ever thought possible.

Nine months of being your mommy & daddy.

Nine months of fighting alongside you.

Nine months of loving you with every single piece of my heart.

I wouldn’t wish the pain of this journey on anyone.

But I would choose you two, a million times over.

We still have mountains to climb, but my goodness, look how many we’ve already conquered.

To everyone who has truly stood beside us, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

And to my boys, keep fighting. Keep growing. Keep showing this world just how incredible you are.

Mommy and Daddy are so unbelievably proud of you.

Happy 9 months, Colton and Declan.

You are worth every sacrifice, every tear, every sleepless night, and every single day of this journey.

God is so good. 🙏🏻💙💙

Nine months down. A lifetime of love ahead.