I Was a NICU Nurse. Then My Baby Became the Patient.
Before I became a NICU mom, I already knew the NICU.
I knew the monitors.
I knew the alarms.
I knew the medical terminology.
I knew why babies had tubes, lines, respiratory support, and what felt like approximately 47 wires attached to them at any given moment.
I was a nurse.
And then my baby became the patient.
Suddenly, knowing what everything meant didn’t make it less scary.
I wasn’t standing at the bedside as the nurse anymore.
I was the mom staring at the monitor.
I was the mom waiting for rounds.
I was the mom wondering whether today’s plan was working.
I was the mom afraid of what the next phone call might say.
And that experience completely changed the way I think about NICU parents.
Knowing the medicine doesn’t remove the fear.
There were things I understood clinically that still terrified me emotionally.
I could understand why something was happening and still desperately want someone to tell me my baby was going to be okay.
I could know what the numbers on the monitor meant and still stare at them.
I could understand the plan of care and still have questions.
And I learned something I wish every NICU parent knew:
You do not have to understand medicine to deserve an explanation about your baby.
You are allowed to ask:
What does that mean?
Why are we doing this?
What are we watching for?
What would make us change the plan?
Can you explain that to me one more time?
Those aren’t annoying questions.
They’re parenting questions.
Parents notice things we don’t always see.
My nursing knowledge mattered during my son’s NICU journey.
But so did something that had absolutely nothing to do with my nursing degree:
I knew my baby.
Parents spend hours noticing tiny things.
The way their baby normally looks when they’re comfortable.
The cry that sounds different.
The feeding that doesn’t feel quite right.
The behavior that makes you think, Something has changed.
That doesn’t mean parents always know the medical answer.
It means their observations belong in the conversation.
One of the phrases you’ll hear me say often around here is:
Your concern is data.
Tell the team what you’re seeing.
Ask the question.
Speak up when something feels different.
The NICU doesn’t need you to become a nurse.
I think sometimes NICU parents feel like they’re supposed to learn an entire medical specialty overnight.
You aren’t.
Your job isn’t to become your baby’s doctor or nurse.
Your job is to be their parent.
The medical team brings their training and experience.
You bring something nobody else standing around that bedside can bring:
your knowledge of your child.
The best care happens when those things work together.
That’s the perspective I carried with me when I eventually returned to the NICU as a nurse after becoming a NICU mom.
And it’s the perspective behind everything I’m building here at Savannah Speaks.
I don’t want NICU parents to leave my corner of the internet feeling like they need a nursing degree.
I want them to leave understanding one more thing than they did before.
Knowing one more question they can ask.
And feeling just a little more confident walking up to their baby’s bedside.
Because you don’t have to know everything to have a voice in the room.
You just have to know that your voice belongs there.
Until next time, advocate like a mother. 💙
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