Reflections From The NICU
Last year, my personal and professional worlds collided in a way I never imagined.
For years, I’ve shared my journey of breaking cycles and healing, alongside conscious parenting and early intervention information. Through my work in early intervention, families often come to me during their most vulnerable moments—when they’re confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It’s a profound honor to be trusted with something as precious as their relationship with their child during such times.
After 12 years of serving families, I suddenly found myself in my own vulnerable moment, sobbing in a hospital lobby. I was trying to stop a panic attack while my 3-day-old baby’s room was transformed into an OR. The surgeon was about to install ECMO, a procedure that inserts cannulas into his main artery to take the blood out of the body, oxygenate it, and pump it back in, allowing his heart and lungs to rest and, hopefully, heal.
But at what cost?
His neurological function was our primary concern. I didn’t know if I’d ever hold my baby alive again. If I did, would he be able to see me? Would he ever smile at me?
Those were the darkest days—the not knowing days.
I used every ounce of grounding work I’d ever practiced to stay in the moment and not be consumed by fears of the future. I hung my head as I forced air into my lungs and held it in, slowing the exhale instead of giving into the urges to hyperventilate. My eyes stared at the ground, unable to look into the eyes of the concerned faces around me. These moments play like screenshots in my brain - disjointed and yet clear and frozen in time.
Eventually, we got our baby home. He’s doing well now, but our lives were forever altered. His body paid a significant price to save his life. The medical team, our angels, saved his life, and now we’re on a healing journey.
Our experience brought richness and depth to life that I hadn’t previously known - one that of profound pain, joy, gratitude, and fear. I understand “survival mode” on a whole new level.
If you’re in it right now—navigating something you never expected and sometimes feels so suffocating you can’t even cry—or if you’re looking at it in the rearview mirror and feel isolated, wondering, “Maybe I’m doing it wrong,” know this:
You’re not. There’s no “right” way.
I’m not here to tell you what you SHOULD do or pretend to have “the answers”. Here are some reflections from my own journey in hopes that they may help you:
There’s no “balance”—just juggling: I try to be intentional about which balls I keep up and which ones I drop, and Nicholas and I try not to throw them at each other. It often feels like it’s never enough.
Choose the voices wisely: Well-intentioned people often say things that require a huge amount of emotional bandwidth to filter and release. Protecting my energy is one of the most important things I can do.
There are no “answers,” that can help me fully process everything. But, I have found that nothing compares to the comfort of sharing experiences with people who just “get it”. The few times I’ve been able to sit with someone and we can validate each others’ feelings while we nod in understanding so deep, it surpasses the need for words. This level of connection feeds the soul, heals the heart, and calms the brain, if only for a moment. I hope that you maybe found a moment in these words 💗 Xo Caley
