Five Hundred Eighty Grams of Precious Life
Her toes were short and stubby, just like mine. She was tiny and perfect and undeniably my baby sister-all 580 grams of her. My twin siblings, Addison and Ashton, were born at 25 weeks gestation with an official diagnosis of extreme prematurity, an outlook of poor, and a mere 20% chance of survival. Due to their significant early arrival into the world, their lungs were not fully developed, their immune system severely weakened, the tiniest of eyelids still fused shut and an inability to eat on their own. I sat in silence. My heart wrenched for my mother as my eyes focused on the ventilator that clicked with each mechanical breath providing life to my precious brother and sister. I didn't realize this moment in time would be the single most impactful moment of my life.
My mother became friends with the Neonatal Intensive Care nurses. She quizzed the Neonatologists as they made their rounds every morning and evening. She listened intently, hanging on every word of the Specialists. She watched patiently as the Therapists delicately practiced their specialty. She prayed for the Surgeons. Brain hemorrhaging. Retinopathy. Chronic Lung Disease. Gastronomy Tube. Cerebral Palsy. Ventilator. These were words that quickly turned into ghastly nightmares.
What can I do? How can I help? I wanted so desperately to make a change, to take away the hurt, to replace the angst with reassurance but this was out of my control. After all, I was just a measly middle school student amongst the most educated and skilled people I'd ever seen. If it takes a village to raise a child then it surely takes a country to care and rehabilitate a premature newborn. Aside from the staff, there were multitudes of volunteers who chose to spend their free time to serving others.
After an unpredictable three months, my mother received a call in the middle of the night to return to the hospital. By the time I arrived, my sister had passed away. My mother's eyes were swollen and her soul clearly defeated with the life drained out of her. She wept and held onto our little Addison, unable to part. For the next nine hours, my family sat together mostly in silence as we did our best to come to terms with the acceptance of this loss and pondered how to move on.
As I write this essay, five years later, my little brother stands before me dressed as an Avenger while playing with his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The memories from his early days and the months that changed all of our lives are not with him. With perfect vision, hearing, and lungs he's officially declared a miracle. He's our miracle and we'll be forever grateful for the nurses, doctors, therapists, specialists that gave their all to Ashton. As a result, my family vowed to give back and serve in as many ways as possible since we've been so impacted by these events. I personally have volunteered in the NICU, fundraised for Children's Miracle Network, raced for the March of Dimes, and prepared meals for families at the Ronald McDonald house. I'm committed to raise awareness for prematurity and dedicate my time to community service. I'm hopeful that my education from Florida State University will open even more doors and opportunities to make an impact serving a cause so near and dear to my family.
Her toes were short and stubby, just like mine. She was tiny and perfect and undeniably my baby sister-all 580 grams of her. My twin siblings, Addison and Ashton, were born at 25 weeks gestation with an official diagnosis of extreme prematurity, an outlook of poor, and a mere 20% chance of survival. Due to their significant early arrival into the world, their lungs were not fully developed, their immune system severely weakened, the tiniest of eyelids still fused shut and an inability to eat on their own. I sat in silence. My heart wrenched for my mother as my eyes focused on the ventilator that clicked with each mechanical breath providing life to my precious brother and sister. I didn't realize this moment in time would be the single most impactful moment of my life.
My mother became friends with the Neonatal Intensive Care nurses. She quizzed the Neonatologists as they made their rounds every morning and evening. She listened intently, hanging on every word of the Specialists. She watched patiently as the Therapists delicately practiced their specialty. She prayed for the Surgeons. Brain hemorrhaging. Retinopathy. Chronic Lung Disease. Gastronomy Tube. Cerebral Palsy. Ventilator. These were words that quickly turned into ghastly nightmares.
What can I do? How can I help? I wanted so desperately to make a change, to take away the hurt, to replace the angst with reassurance but this was out of my control. After all, I was just a measly middle school student amongst the most educated and skilled people I'd ever seen. If it takes a village to raise a child then it surely takes a country to care and rehabilitate a premature newborn. Aside from the staff, there were multitudes of volunteers who chose to spend their free time to serving others.
After an unpredictable three months, my mother received a call in the middle of the night to return to the hospital. By the time I arrived, my sister had passed away. My mother's eyes were swollen and her soul clearly defeated with the life drained out of her. She wept and held onto our little Addison, unable to part. For the next nine hours, my family sat together mostly in silence as we did our best to come to terms with the acceptance of this loss and pondered how to move on.
As I write this essay, five years later, my little brother stands before me dressed as an Avenger while playing with his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The memories from his early days and the months that changed all of our lives are not with him. With perfect vision, hearing, and lungs he's officially declared a miracle. He's our miracle and we'll be forever grateful for the nurses, doctors, therapists, specialists that gave their all to Ashton. As a result, my family vowed to give back and serve in as many ways as possible since we've been so impacted by these events. I personally have volunteered in the NICU, fundraised for Children's Miracle Network, raced for the March of Dimes, and prepared meals for families at the Ronald McDonald house. I'm committed to raise awareness for prematurity and dedicate my time to community service. I'm hopeful that my education from Florida State University will open even more doors and opportunities to make an impact serving a cause so near and dear to my family.