My son was born at 24 weeks. He barely started with a chance to survive. He was strong. He pulled out tubes, threw little fits, cried, and pooped in nurses' hands. He had a lot of life in such a tiny body. He fought 23 days for life. He had the best care with the most amazing doctors and nurses. Elizabeth was his primary nurse and I will never forget her.
I will remember Elizabeth walking into my son's NICU room with all the staff gathered around who tried so hard to save his life and looking at her first, tears rolling down her face. It was that moment I completely understood my world had changed forever. Elizabeth made the NICU home for me during those 23 days. She pushed me to be a better mother with her kind words but also with her tough love. She always let me know when I needed to do more, but always made me feel like I could do anything. My own mom passed away a year ago and wasn't there to support me. That gave more meaning for the things Elizabeth did for me.
One day, Elizabeth could tell that I was struggling with breast pumping although I never said anything to her. Elizabeth looked at me and said, "You're pump dependent. You don't have your son with you and what you're going through is really hard. You're doing a great job!" She will never know how much I needed those words on that day.
The day before my son passed, I fell asleep in a hard chair by his incubator. I woke up to Elizabeth bringing in blankets to prop my head and cover me up. Three of the best memories I have are Elizabeth's generosity, getting to take a nap with my son, and seeing my son open his eyes when I walked into his room and said hi. All of which I will forever remember.
I was with Elizabeth when she gave my son a bath on the day he passed. She talked to me about her personal experience of losing a child, took footprints, clipped a piece of his hair, and most importantly gave me a moment alone with my son. It was the first and last time I would ever be able to rock him, sing to him, and talk to him in my arms. When I saw the tears rolling down Elizabeth's face, in a weird way, it was home. It gave mecomfort. It was knowing someone who never had to, took care of my baby as if he were her own. I never worried about him getting the best treatment or that there wasn't love in the room when I couldn't be there. As a single mom, that's huge! Elizabeth taught me and gave me so much. I will always love her for the way she loved my son.