I stumbled in the front door, arms weighed down with grocery bags, just in time to see them clearing their plates from the table. My heart sank a little; though I knew I was coming home later than I expected, I had hoped I would make it home in time for dinner with the family. We have dinner together every single night. That’s our thing. Tonight I missed it.

I remember the first time I kissed him like it was yesterday.

He smelled like heaven. My love for him was streaming down my face, leaving his little cheeks wet. I kissed away the tears. He was warm and soft and the very definition of perfection. Before having kids, I never fully understood parents who kissed their kids on the lips; the lips seemed so intimate to me. Yet the first time they placed him in my arms my lips instinctively pressed against his. They lingered over them while I inhaled his scent; a scent that was so brand new yet so familiar to me all at the same time.

By now we’ve all read the email from one mom giving a detailed list of what she considers acceptable gifts for her child’s first birthday.

I am a planner. I like to be prepared. When I was pregnant, I read everything I could find about parenting. Every book, article, and blog I could get my hands on; I devoured them all. Somehow it made me feel as though I was ready to face motherhood head on. I was ready for breastfeeding, diaper changing, sleep schedules, and baby bathing. Yet as prepared as I was for motherhood; regardless of how many books I read or how many experts I talked to, there was just nothing that could prepare me for some aspects of my new life.

We love indoor playgrounds. They're places we take our kids and there's a local one we enjoy and take our kids to. They have been known to spend the entire day playing there and have a blast. But yesterday, according to Matthew Dupuis, his little girl Eloise was denied entry into a local play centre because she has to wear indoor shoes and ankle braces due to Cerebral Palsy.

We were singing away to some of the latest top 40 when I mentioned one of my favourite Michael Jackson songs. My daughter replied with “Who’s Michael Jackson?” Wait…what?! WTF? Who is Michael Jackson?! What do you mean? How on earth could MY child not know who MJ is? We then proceeded to have the best dance party we have ever had with a little MJ playing in the background. I watched the kids boogie down to Billie Jean and wondered how music that was once so important to me could be unknown to my children.

Boobies and bums, boobies and bums, boobies and bums. Those words fly around my house so often that I don’t even flinch when I hear them anymore. My house is home to a 6.5 year-old boy, so boobies and bums are the funny words du jour amongst him and his little friends - ones that elicit giggles, snickers, and whispers. 

Nothing has brought as much joy and happiness to my life as having children. Sometimes it feels as though my life didn’t really begin until these little people entered my life and it can be hard to look back and remember exactly what it was like before I had them.

I spend time each and every day - sometimes a little, sometimes a lot - thinking about how fortunate I am to have them and how much better my life is with them in it. Yet even with my heart bursting with love there are times when they are just downright annoying.

I was warned, before the arrival of our first baby, that once you have children it's easy to toss the romance to side, letting it gather dust in the corners. Life changes, priorities shift, and let’s face it, sometimes you are just too tired...so very very tired. When you're trying to juggle diaper changes, laundry, school runs, and playdates the thought of adding one more to do to the list seems impossible. Cozy pj’s, a nice book, and your bed seem like the best option sometimes.

She introduced me to horror movies and Pogo's with mustard.

We rode bikes, played in treehouses, and giggled our way through sleepovers. Our Barbies lived complex lives and we even shared a Ken doll. We were very different people but somehow we just clicked.

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I’m getting older.

There’s no hiding from it. Age will find me wherever I try to hide. My body is getting older too. With each passing year it’s changing, leaving little reminders of the years gone by.

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It hits me when I least expect it. When I feel safely tucked into my family bubble far away from the hospital walls that bore witness to my most intimate moments of pain. When I’m marvelling at how strong or smart he is. When life seems perfectly normal. That’s when the memories give me a gentle nudge reminding me of our struggle.

“I hate this house!” he yells at me. “You’re the worst mummy I ever had!” he throws in before storming out of the room. “Well,” I say, struggling to find the words, “I’m the only mummy you’ve ever had,” finally landing on the only words that come to mind, hiding the tears in my eyes.

We spent our first holiday as parents in the NICU.

It was Thanksgiving and as the big day drew nearer, my hopes of sharing a turkey with all the fixings around my own dining room table began to fade and the sadness consumed me.

I couldn’t imagine building traditions or creating memories in a hospital. What business did I have enjoying a festive meal while my baby lay in an incubator unable to eat at all? Our family wanted so badly for us to enjoy the holiday but how could we explain that we didn’t have it in us to celebrate?

We made a decision for my son. The decision was made by myself and my husband, after lengthy research and much thought. Discussions were had amongst ourselves, with our doctors, with family members and friends. It wasn’t an easy decision and it was not made lightly.

The decision that we made as parents is not anyone else's to judge, and I do not regret our decision at all, not for a second.

Charity is something that has always been important to me. I've spent countless hours volunteering my time doing everything from acting as an interpreter in a doctor’s office, to playing with children at a women’s shelter, to teaching new immigrants English. When I didn’t have a lot to give financially I always had time that I could give.

Of course, once I had children, giving back became even more significant, and passing this on to my kids was essential.

I see the photos plastered across Instagram; mothers and daughters enjoying manicurers and pedicures, hair blow outs and make-up sessions, bonding across the salon chair. Excited little girls getting their tiny toes painted the most adorable shade of pink. Maybe lunch or ice cream afterwards? It’s something that I have always dreamed of. From the moment I found out I was having a girl I was already planning our mother daughter salon days.

Maybe passion is too strong a word.

November 17^th is World Prematurity Day. I am not the mother of a premature baby. I am, however, the mother of a NICU baby and I do have a deep and real understanding of the fears, worries, and pain that many parents of preemies endure.

In honour of World Prematurity Day I would like to send a message to all mums who are going through the difficult and painful journey of the NICU.

Hey NICU mum,

I see you.