Recently, my whole world came crashing down. After a year and a half of IVF, and two failed transfers, my husband and I were finally pregnant with our miracle baby. We couldn’t wait for our 20-week scan so that we could see just how big he was growing, but things didn’t pan out as we’d hoped. Congenital diaphragmatic hernia. A diagnosis I’d never even heard of. A diagnosis that could mean the end of our pregnancy. A diagnosis that would need special care from Lurie Children’s Hospital. I felt shattered. Our doctor put a call in right away and sent us home to await further instructions. Enter, Betsy.

Little did I know at the time, but she was truly a beacon of hope and comfort sent to guide me through the difficult road ahead. The very next morning, she called to introduce herself and guide me through the next steps. However, our phone call was so much more than that. Betsy spent almost an hour on the phone comforting me, explaining everything that was going to happen over the next few months and even shared a personal story about her niece with the same condition who had gone on to graduate school and live a healthy life. It was like her very voice, was building me back up.

My husband and I met Betsy just a few days later during our first appointment at the Fetal Health Center. She greeted me with a warm hug, more reassurances, and helped to calm my anxious nerves (no easy feat). Our appointment that day was one that span 8 hours, and she continued to check in with me throughout the entire day, providing a motherly figure when I needed one the most. Throughout the remainder of the summer, Betsy continued to stay in touch. She was available whenever I had questions, or fears that needed to be stamped out. She shared in my excitement of finally having a baby, and the hope of being able to support him when he was born. She guided us towards several research and support organizations so that we could learn and grow through this experience.

Fast forward several months…N came a month early, and after 51 hours of dedicated care in Lurie’s NICU, he passed away. I was devasted-as any mother would be. We requested an autopsy to find out as many details of his life as we could, and a team of specialists that was involved with his care agreed to meet with us in December so that we could learn and understand what happened. Betsy was there. As her name was not on the list of doctors that was emailed out to me, I hadn’t been expecting to see her, but felt immediately grateful when she came walking down the hallway to greet us. She asked if she could hug me, and tears started falling from her eyes. She genuinely cared. She genuinely wanted to turn back the clock and figure out a way to make things better. She was wonderful and made me feel like family. Not just a patient; but family. Betsy sat in on the meeting with us that day and jumped in whenever she could see that I was getting worried that I may have somehow caused his diagnosis. She had a way of understanding exactly what I needed in each moment. We left that day with another hug from Betsy, and a reminder to reach out whenever we needed something.

I will never forget 2021: finally getting pregnant, my son’s diagnosis, and holding him in my arms as he passed away. But I will also never forget Betsy. She was a wonderful constant throughout this entire experience, and I will be forever grateful.