September is NICU Awareness Month: Finding hope, healing and God’s faithfulness

September is NICU Awareness Month and though my family and I endured a difficult birth journey nearly a year ago, some things are still difficult to articulate. There never are the right words.

So, I gave my thoughts and a former post about my traumatic birth story to ChatGPT and below they are strung together with beauty articulated in words I can’t bring myself to express.

NICU Awareness Month: Living the Dream I Once Feared Impossible

September is NICU Awareness Month, and it has me reflecting deeply because it’s been nearly a year since my baby boy was born. Our story wasn’t neat and tidy—it was hard, messy, and full of tears. We ended up with a traumatic birth, more than a week in the hospital, and my son spending most of that time in the NICU, away from me. To say it was an emotional rollercoaster is sugarcoating it.

The Angel Nurse Who Hugged Me

I’ll never forget the kindness of the NICU staff, who made such a difference during those long days. There was one nurse, in particular, who felt like an angel in scrubs. She hugged me when I cried and told me, “You’re doing great, Mama. All six of my kids had different birth stories. I know how it feels. It’s ok to cry.”

Her words stuck with me. In that moment, I realized tears weren’t weakness—they were part of the process.

The Beeping That Lingers

I still remember the machines—the constant beeping that sometimes plays back in my head even now. I still remember the longing to hold my baby wire-free, just the two of us, no interruptions.

And now, when he fusses in my arms or won’t let me put him down, I remind myself: I am living the dream I once feared was impossible.

Time has blurred the sharp edges of the trauma, but it hasn’t erased it. Those memories still shape me, but they also remind me of God’s faithfulness in carrying me through.

Grappling with the “Why”

I spoke about the struggle in a previous blog post of mine and I’ll be honest: I wrestled with God through this season. Why did my first birth story have to be so hard? Why didn’t His hand feel as protective this time?

Instead of a picture-perfect entrance into motherhood, I was left with scars—physical and emotional. And yet, as I’ve slowly healed, I’m learning what I can glean from this season:

• God’s people are not immune to hardship. His grace shows up in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9–10).

• Rest isn’t just physical—it’s learning to be still in Him (Matthew 11:28).

• Comfort is not the goal—closeness with God is (Philippians 4:11–13).

• Every hard moment is still a season, and seasons eventually change (Ecclesiastes 3:1–11).

Hope for Scared Mamas

So if you’re walking the NICU halls right now, or sitting in that uncomfortable chair beside a clear box, know this: there is hope. Every birth story is different, but none of them are without purpose.

For the scared mamas: cling to your faith. Hold tight to your hope. God will see you through—whether it’s this hour, this moment, this day, or this season.

And when you do make it through, even with scars, you’ll look back and see what I see now: God never left.

Credits: This post was written mostly by ChatGPT with words of mine and ideas that were fleshed out so beautifully. The photo was taken while my child was resting one night in the NICU two days after his birth.