"We learned that people in crisis situations — and those who work in them, like the NICU doctors and nurses — are some of the most incredible people in the world."
Our son was born in September of 2023 — he was three months premature and weighed just over one pound. We spent a total of five months in the Shyan Sun, M.D. Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Cooperman Barnabas Medical Center. Long days, long nights, weekends, and holidays — all isolated from friends and family.
When people ask how we made it through those five months, I honestly can’t say — because I don’t remember most of it. I remember everything about the night Mason was born. I remember the weeks leading up to it. We did not expect Mason to be born that early. It wasn’t part of the plan. Spending five months in the NICU wasn’t part of the plan. All plans went out the window — because life was happening. And it was exactly that: life. This was uncharted territory, different from what most people experience. But it was our journey — the path we were forced to take.
Along our journey, we learned a thing or two. We learned that people in crisis situations — and those who work in them, like the NICU doctors and nurses — are some of the most incredible people in the world. As hard as it was being in the NICU for five months, working full time, and coming to the hospital daily, we started to see things differently. These are the circumstances that bring people closer together.
We’d gather in the lounge or break area with other parents — some camped out on the brightly-colored couches. Complete strangers, yet instant friends, because of a bond created through shared experience.
You realize pretty quickly that these babies entered the world in a different way — through difficulty, some of them fighting for their lives. Maybe it was optimism, or maybe stubborn ignorance, but I didn’t really think about it. I didn’t mind the long nights or the holidays in the NICU, but as other babies left and ours remained, we couldn’t help but feel left behind. When would it be our turn to go?
Friends and family would ask, “When is he coming home?” And the answer was always: “I don’t know.”
That helped, in a way — because we learned that milestones wouldn’t come as expected. Time moved differently. Mason might have been six months old, but developmentally, he was really three months old. That’s just how it works — and eventually, it balances out. You learn to take victories one at a time.
In the legendary words of Bruce Lee: “Do not pray for an easy life. Pray for the strength to endure a difficult one.”
When the day finally came — about a week after Mason got his G-tube and was cleared to leave — the moment we had waited for during the last five months was filled with mixed emotions. It was hard to say goodbye to all the wonderful people who had cared for him — the doctors, nurses, social workers, respiratory therapists, support staff, even the security guards. One of them gave Mason the nickname “The Mayor” because everyone knew him. When it was time to go, the entire team came to see him off. It felt like a graduation from the NICU.
I thought back to the first week there — to a comment a friend made that, while well-intentioned, didn’t quite land. He said he was sorry my family had to go through all this. I know he meant well, but I didn’t feel sorry. I felt joy. To him, it seemed the joy had been stripped from the moment — but for me, I had a son.
It made me think of the story of the Chinese farmer and the horse that ran away. You can look the story up online, but the moral of the story is this: the process of life is too complex to know what’s good or bad in one moment. You never know what the consequences of misfortune — or good fortune — will be.
About a year after leaving the NICU, Mason is still on the G-tube. But he’s growing, walking, laughing, and living his best life.
It’s hard for those who haven’t been in this situation — even family — to understand certain things. Like I said before, we don’t check off traditional milestones. We just try to take little victories one at a time.
We wouldn’t change a thing about Mason. Or about the incredible nurses who supported him. His doctors — Dr. Rani and Dr. Kamtorn — were blessings in our lives. Mason was even one of the final long-stay babies Dr. Kamtorn cared for before she recently retired.
In closing, I leave you with two other helpful thoughts:
- It’s said that “Life is the sum of your choices,” but I believe it’s the sum of your experiences.
- “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” – Danish philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard
Wishing you strength, Mason’s Parents
Learn more about the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Cooperman Barnabas Medical Center.