Today, on World Prematurity Day, my heart swells with pride and gratitude as I reflect on the incredible journey of my son, Mateo. Born prematurely, he is one in ten—a tiny fighter who defied the odds. Looking back on everything we went through, I am overwhelmed with emotion, both for the challenges we faced and for the strength we discovered in each other along the way.
Mateo’s story started with complications even before he was born. During a routine appointment, I received the news from the specialist that would change everything. I was told that there were significant pregnancy complications, and we needed to rush to get tests and labs done to check if Mateo might have Down syndrome. Appointments piled up, and it was revealed that there were even more complications than initially thought. At every turn, there was uncertainty. The fear of losing him was overwhelming—each day brought new challenges, and I lived in constant fear of something going wrong. I could feel the weight of the situation as the doctors explained that at any moment, things could take a turn for the worse: Mateo might lose his heartbeat, he could lose oxygen, or I could start hemorrhaging.
Despite the constant stress and fear, I was told to limit my stress levels, which, as any mother in my position can relate, felt impossible. I was advised to go on bed rest, but the reality of not having the support I needed meant that I couldn’t comply. I had to continue living in a constant state of anxiety, fearing for my child’s life while trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy in my own.
At 20 weeks, I had to sign papers preparing for the possibility of needing a blood transfusion during my C-section. I was admitted to the hospital for nearly a month, given high doses of medication to stop contractions, and constantly reminded of how rare and complicated my situation was. The doctor even told me that this was the worst case she had ever encountered. Every step of the way felt like an emotional rollercoaster, each moment filled with uncertainty and fear for my baby’s survival.
The day Mateo was born was one of the happiest, yet scariest, days of my life. After all the waiting and worrying, the moment I finally held him was unforgettable. But that moment was short-lived, as Mateo needed to be placed under the blue light for jaundice treatment. I only got to hold him for a few precious minutes, and I had to let go again. The heartbreak of not being able to hold him or care for him in the way I had imagined as a mother was almost too much to bear.
What followed were more obstacles than I could have ever prepared for: feeding problems, jaundice, temperature regulation issues, and even a hernia surgery. Mateo also had to undergo a painful recovery after sedation, and he failed his car seat test. With each setback, it felt like we were taking two steps forward, only to fall back again. But through it all, I remained determined. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him home with us, where he belonged.
I spent countless hours at the hospital, managing the day-to-day of being a NICU mom while also trying to maintain some sense of normalcy at home. I rushed between school runs, hospital visits, and caring for my other children, all while trying to keep a smile on my face. Hospital food became a norm, and the constant exhaustion was draining, but I would do it all over again. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my baby boy.
The hardest part of being a NICU mom is the day you’re discharged, and you have to leave your baby behind in the hospital, trusting strangers to care for them. That moment, when I had to walk out of that hospital without Mateo in my arms, was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I cried the entire way home, felt completely broken, and struggled with postpartum depression. It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but the love and hugs from my other children reminded me that I had to keep going.
Today, as I look at Mateo lying next to me, peacefully asleep, I am reminded of the bond we share—the bond that only grows stronger as you face life’s toughest challenges together. He’s my miracle, and I will forever be grateful for his strength, resilience, and the way he has taught me to be stronger than I ever thought possible.
Mateo’s journey has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but through it all, he has shown me the true meaning of courage. His journey is far from over, but as a family, we have faced so much together, and I know that Mateo will continue to inspire us every day.
Te amo, Mateo Ismael. You are my heart, my strength, and my reason to keep going. Today, on World Prematurity Day, I am reminded of how far we’ve come and how much further we’ll go. We will always be grateful for the support we received and for the progress Mateo has made. You are our little fighter, and I couldn’t be prouder to be your mom.