At just 29 weeks, our Laura entered the world far earlier than we had expected, her fragile lungs not yet ready for their first breath. She was red and raw, with tubes all around her.
She weighed only 700g and was barely any bigger than my hand.
Words cannot describe the heartbreak we felt as we spent the next several days watching our baby lie helpless in an incubator, unsure when we would be able to touch her, much less carry her.
We could only press our hands against the incubator’s see-through cover, hoping the warmth of our hands could reach her.
FIGHTING FOR EVERY BREATH
In the very first week of Laura’s life, there was no mincing of words – we were told that she was “very sick” and “might not overcome”.
She had severe cystic chronic lung disease, meaning she needed constant respiratory support.
Her first days on Earth were filled with beeping monitors and the steady hum of ventilators, sounds that we would eventually get used to as she relied on these machines for the first few years of life.
The first time we held her, we were preparing to let her go. At only 20 days old, she had already undergone cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) and intensive interventions. Her tiny body was just too sick and frail.
Yet, against all odds, she pulled through that night. And the next. And many, many more tough nights after that.
