Dear Son,

I have experienced real fear in my life, the kind of fear that makes you hide under the bed as a young girl, but I have never been so scared as I am now for your well being. I will never explain myself to anyone about the way I handle things.

Your life has changed mine. Your arrival has exposed the rawest, most honest parts of myself that only your daddy knows about.

Son, folks like us weren't exactly blessed with an easy life and a super perfect childhood from the start, but you, babe, are a fighter, like me. You got this. We got this.

My heart aches for you around the clock and a hot shower won't wash away the pain this time. Yup, here I am, my bare heart and soul exposed.

Nobody besides your daddy knows I cry every time my body forces me to pump milk. It's against nature and my maternal instinct to hold a machine instead of your sweet, fragile little body.

I'm so grateful we knew you'd have issues before you were born so the hospitals were prepared for your arrival. Children's hospital saved your life.

I labored for days and called the hospital every 2 hours to check if there was a room for you yet. I kept you inside me until we got the green light because we knew you wouldn't be able to breath on your own once the two of us were separated. All I could do was lay in the shower on all fours, crying in absolute agony, hoping the hot water would help my pain. I was determined to keep you safe.

You were 3 days old before I could convince my nurses that I was well enough to leave the UW hospital to join you at Children's. Your dad pushed me in a wheelchair to your bedside so I could finally meet you. I stood up by your bed and just cried. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Son, don't ever doubt that you are extremely loved.