There are moments in our lives that change us in indescribable and powerful ways. Sometimes we do not know we have been changed until the moment has already left us. Each blissful moment that, for better or worse, encompasses a tiny piece of what makes our heart beat a little faster to remind us of how alive we are. Having a baby is one of those amazing links to the chain in which we build our path in life. Balloons, gifts, flowers and big hugs abound the hospital room- remind us of the celebration being had in the new life that was just born. But what happens when your baby comes before you are ready and needs more care than anticipated?

I never knew before the summer of 2014 that tucked in the corner of the 4^th floor of my hospital, there would be a unit that was created for saving babies lives. But now I know.

The Holy Redeemer NICU became our home for a month that summer after our twin boys, Connor Joseph and Curran James, made their dramatic entrance into the world 8 weeks early. Weighing in at a hefty 2.11 and 5.1 pounds respectively, I often define my life from before and after of the day I delivered the boys. One moment I was heading in for my routine testing and the next being administered steroid shots and terrified. 48 hours later, in the OR with a team of strangers, I laid cold and afraid. Every ounce of my body, my brain and my heart rejoiced when they came out screaming. Before I could exhale, both were whisked away and hooked up to more tubes, machines and monitors than I could count. But even today, if I had to relive one day over and over again what would it be? Hands down- the day I brought two new lives into this world.

In the next few weeks, I made deals with God at their bedside that I am too ashamed to admit. I sobbed heavily, salt-filled tears that poured down my face as I questioned how my body could fail me. I held vigil at their bedsides awaiting morning rounds with the doctors to gain every inch of information I could to bring me one step closer to taking my boys home. Somewhere, through the fog, I celebrated with my husband. Our two beautiful twin boys who made us a family of 6. After four days, it was my turn to go home. My other two children missed their mommy and I knew they needed to see my smile desperately. I kissed the twins goodbye, sat down in my wheelchair and headed for the elevator. No balloons, no flowers and no smile. Those five minutes alone with a strange nurse and my husband were life-altering. I have delivered two full term babies before. This was different. How could they expect me to leave without my babies?

I left my heart at the hospital as I got into my waiting car. I clung to the door and asked God for the strength to trust in the power of healthcare. I knew from my time there that the staff was top notch that was never an issue. But the nagging weight of the guilt I could not shake. There had to be a better way for moms to balance their baby’s need for care and the maternal bond that I felt I was leaving on the 4^th floor.

It was those first few days that gave me the drive to make a difference and give birth to something hopeful: The Superhero Project. Where there is a will there is always a way.

The next few weeks were one of the most trying times of my life. I would get up and drive 25 minutes to the hospital, spend 8 hours in the NICU with my boys, come home to feed and bathe my older two, then trudge back up to the hospital for another 4 hours. I must have logged hundreds of hours in that chair. I remember sitting down the first night after I came home from seeing them. I was discharged the day before and the impact of the stress was sky high. I was exhausted from trying to act strong, overwhelmed from the inability to care for my boys at home and frustrated by the tears that would not stop flowing. I went into the bathroom, locked the door and cried. I wanted so desperately to feel sorry for myself and be angry for not carrying them to term. I felt out of control and unable to process the wide range of post-partum emotions I was dealing with. Why me? Why my boys? Why did we have to be the 1 in 10? It’s a question that I had asked several hundred times in just a few days. I picked myself up that night. Slowly, but strongly. My boys needed me just as much as I needed them. I knew my options were to sit back and be a bystander or become the one who made a difference.

I opened the door and never turned back.

From the moment I got up that next morning until the second my head hit the pillow, my entire attitude changed. I became a part of the “medical team”. Did I have my moments? Absolutely! My older two were being shuffled back and forth from family and friends. The sterile smell of the unit combined with the soft beeping of the machines became my lullaby as I anxiously waited for daily rounds to be completed. Doctors became friends and nurses became family. We shared stories, shed a few tears and always ended days with a smile. Well, most days. Within three weeks, it was Curran’s turn to graduate. Armed with a freshly opened infant carrier that had been sitting unoccupied for what felt like an eternity, we placed him in the car and waved goodbye. Actually, it was more like see you later.

You, see, Connor was still in the hospital and not cleared to go home. On top of now caring for a preemie at home and my two older kids, I now had to somehow work spending my day at Holy Redeemer with Connor into the mix. Those 4 days felt like 40. I could not have done any of it without a support system. Meals, cards, gifts and prayers made our life manageable. You can’t really comprehend the meaning of appreciation until you go through a trying time in your life. Accepting help is a humbling experience. It allows true love to break walls you did not even know existed. My walls were certainly crumbled after that summer.

Accepting help also enabled me the strength to believe in the power of giving back. I spent a few months pondering how I could help a few families who have to spend their first holiday in a unit where we spent their first summer. By Christmas, I had gathered enough donations from family and friends to deliver 15 baskets filled with gift cards, crocheted hats, snacks, journals, sanitizer, and love. My heart was full but this tiny ache was still there. It nagged at me. The little sleep in which I was being granted by my sleeping angels became disrupted by my visions of wanting change. What one thing would have changed the way I bonded with my boys during their time there? Although there is no way to replace physically being there holding them, was there something out there that came close? I began immersing myself in Google searches on the NICU and different breakthrough ideas that were being driven across the country. Without hesitation, I knew that the minute I stumbled upon the Angel Eye camera system equipment, I had found something that offered exactly what I was looking for. This was it! This small piece of equiptment was an opportunity to change lives for NICU moms. I was sure it was a great idea. I knew moms would love it. But, how could I convince the hospital to take this kind of a jump. Would people connect with the idea and buy into it? This would not be an overnight thing.

Little did I know, the impact this idea that I shared would have on thousands of people would pave the way for a new way of distributing family based care in our hospital. This was no longer about me, my feelings about my personal experience with my boys. It was about every mom out there who has had to leave their baby in the hospital. My superheroes at home gave me the go ahead. I was ready for the jump. I just don’t think I was ready for how hard I would fall for the idea that would take me on a path in life that I never knew existed. But sometimes in life, you need to fall to realize that getting up and moving forward is the only way to bring change. The Superhero Project was born and immediately began its mission. I was ready and willing to make this idea a reality. What I wasn’t ready for was the hundreds of people who would rally behind me and help me change lives. One dollar at a time.

When you are part of a team or unit, there is often a feeling of deep comfort and sense of relief that accompanies the realization that the weight of what you are trying to accomplish doesn’t rely solely on your shoulders. I am an elementary school teacher and have been involved in several committee and grade level teams. My life is filled with an amazing team of neighbors and friends who cover for each other and ensure that our kids are taken care of. From grade school basketball all the way up to college soccer, I’ve played on almost every sports team imaginable. These teams swept track meets, won nail-biting games at the buzzer and sat in freezing cold temperatures while huddling together for warmth in multi-game tournaments. All of these teams have shaped who I am as a person and reminded me that trophies don’t always account for placing 2nd and good guys don’t always finish first. When I sit back and lay these team cards out on the table and total up all the wins in my career, nothing comes close to the team I have standing behind The Superhero Project.

Hundreds of people, some I have known a lifetime and others who I have yet to physically meet, have come together to make the bond between families and their infants stronger. In almost 3 years of fundraising and several sold out events, we have raised over $120,000 for critically ill babies in the NICU and their families. The sheer mention of this generous magnitude usually brings me to tears. This is a testament to the power of giving, the strength in numbers and the awe-inspiring notion that one person really can make a difference. Often, I put a simple post on Facebook requesting an item or favor. Within minutes, messages pour into my inbox fulfilling the request and donating additional items. To realize that people understand the passion behind my purpose has ignited me to network and deliver the message of hope to so many new families who are caring for a sick infant.

Do you how good it feels to give back? My goal for creating an environment that allowed family-based care to take the forefront has been accomplished. The camera installation will prove nothing short of ultimate comfort for the families who have babies in the NICU. Our baskets will continue to provide small necessities and inspire moms to take a few moments to take care of themselves during the hustle and bustle of their busy lives.

As we get ready to celebrate our sons 4^th birthday next month I cannot help but reflect on the thousands of people who have allowed this all to happen. Learning and growing from the curve balls we are dealt allows us to seize opportunities that once felt like obstacles. I think when something as significant as having your critically ill child lay in front of you happens; you are awarded an opportunity that puts many things perfectly into perspective. This experience has presented me a new gift to share and a passion for service that continuously burns in my heart. It has made me reflect on my journey, where I have been in life, and where I hope to go. In the end, we all have to find our place in this lifetime and allow our gifts to lead us to where we are supposed to go.

Where is it that I hope this project takes me? To be honest, I really do not know the answer. I know that every dollar, every basket and every thank you from a NICU mom is a reminder that what has been started is nothing short of amazing. As I move forward, my goal of partnering with other non-profits to inspire and innovate the NICU is beginning to take shape. When you have a premature baby, you cling to anything you can to create an identify for your child. For my sons and I, this identity came through hats and blankets. Crocheted and knitted hats have become a big part of my campaign. I have received hundreds of hats and blankets so far and will continue to seek help in this initiative.

Everyone in this world has a gift. Often, our gifts come to us at different periods of our lives and remain unopened until just the right time. My advice to each one of you is to find your gift and remain open and willing to accepting it. Use it to seek a better understanding of yourself and others. The Superhero Project has been my gift to many parents and families over the course of the last few years. Yet somewhere deep inside, I know it was God’s gift to me as well. Just a little present that’s been waiting for me to open up. Find your strength. Find your gift and soar.

To find out more about The Superhero Project, check us out on the web at www.superheroprojectinc.org, or on Facebook.