by Jessica Collins

Created on: May 29, 2008

You survive the loss of a baby in the NICU by not focusing on the loss, but on the life that came before the loss. My son Noah was born at 23 weeks, 4 days gestation, just barely past the point of viability for a preemie. He was a micropreemie, weighing only 1 pound, 6 ounces at birth and measuring 11 inches long. He was perfectly formed in every way from the fuzzy hair on his head to his tiny toes, and I loved every minute of the five days I had with him before he succumbed to a lung infection.

When I think about losing Noah, I try to remember the five days of this life and every wonder they held. I remember him trying to suck on the breathing tube. The NICU nurse put a tiny pacifier in the corner of his mouth and he sucked on that too. I remember watching a nurse change his diaper and being proud of the fact that he was wetting a diaper at all. I remember being proud of how well his breathing was coming along considering the premature state of his lungs, until the infection came along. And I remember putting my finger in his tiny hand for him to hold, touching his head and toes, and holding him one time and one time only.

I have pictures of Noah that I love to look at every once in a while. They are pictures that I haven't shown many other people because of the difference in what they will see. Other people would look at the pictures and see IVs, a breathing tube, and a child too tiny to live. I look at the pictures and see my beautiful baby boy, my firstborn, whom I loved every minute of my pregnancy, and of his short life. I survived his loss by focusing on that love, knowing that I had given him the best chance at life that I could, and that I had loved him with all of my heart and soul.

What you can't allow yourself to do is play the "what if" game. You can't wonder what would have happened if you had done just one thing differently, made just one alternative decision. Would your child be alive today if only? Grieving is natural, and I certainly spent a number of hours crying and wishing things had not turned out as they did, but moving on with life is essential.

I recently gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. I was able to have a safe pregnancy because of what my OB learned from what caused my premature labor with Noah. I consider my little girl to be a gift from God, and I like to think that her big brother is her own personal guardian angel. If not for Noah's life, my daughter might not be here today. His loss was not meaningless, his life had a purpose, and although I miss him every day, I go on knowing he will always live on in my heart.

Learn more about this author, Jessica Collins.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.