#LifeIsWorthTheJace
They say that every child teaches you something. Jace Daniel taught me that try as I might, nothing is in my control.
When you become a parent, you secretly plan out all the things your child will do, milestones they’ll reach or moments in their life. First bicycle. First car. Graduate from college. You imagine them in your head.
What happens when that vision changes? What will you do? How will you react?
This is the life of the NICU. A swirling microcosm of controlled chaos.
It will eat you up and spit you back out and test the very fiber of your being. Yet, somehow, the tiny warriors in the midst of that storm, come out virtually unfazed by the hellacious battle they’ve overcome. We call them preemies, and the most special warriors are called micropreemies.
Up until the halfway point of my pregnancy, I had no issues. Within a matter of weeks, my body changed and before I knew it, I was having surgery to keep my baby in longer, on bed rest, and other small changes. They seemed to be working until days before the new year, I spontaneously went into labor. New Year’s Day arrived and before I knew it, I gave birth to Jace Daniel Hall at a whopping 1 lb 15 oz at 25 weeks gestation.
Jace was a Micropreemie.
What did that even mean? What does that mean for Jace?
I couldn’t answer those questions as I lay in my hospital bed waiting to get approval to see my son in the NICU. I tried to formulate answers, but I couldn’t even process what just happened hours before. Now, there was some stranger in front of me running through a laundry list of possible things that could go wrong with my precious baby, asking me if I understood. I nodded yes, not even knowing what would lie ahead. I was in a fog.
The fog lasted for weeks as I visited the NICU and tried to just get through each day. I was terrified. Scared. Worried. Overwhelmed. When Jace got sick with medical Necrotizing Enterocolitis, a disease that is fatal in most babies, I was brought to my knees. It took my breath away to watch my baby fight for his life when there was nothing I could do to save or help him. The fog intensified. It consumed me and when I couldn’t find a way out, I simply prayed. Prayed like hell. Surely goodness and mercy are following Jace because he opened his eyes days later during a visit, grabbed his breathing tube and looked deep into my eyes as if to tell me “I got this, mom.” I’ll never forget it. I quickly realized that I had a fighter on my hands.
Jace is, without a doubt, the strongest person I know. His medical history is a laundry list, but that kid acts as if he doesn’t know and just kept fighting. He keeps going and along the way, he leaves an imprint on anyone he meets. His majestic eyes tell a story and touch your soul. He reminds us that although every day may not be good, there is some good in every day.
I often have questioned why I am on this journey or when I’ll get off the preverbal roller coaster on fire with the squeaky wheels that are also on fire, but I truly believe my son’s life has made me refocus, pushed me to grow in ways I hadn’t imagined and has made me appreciate all the little victories in life that we often take for granted. Every day that he presses on, everyday that he fights like he mighty warrior he is, he’s quietly telling me, #LifeIsWorthTheJace.
-Written by micropreemie mama Meg
(If you would like to follow Jace’s journey, find us on Instagram, via my personal account: https://www.instagram.com/theincrediblemeg/)