At only 26 weeks and 5 days, after over 6 years of infertility, our baby boy was born and we found ourselves thrust into an unknown and terrifying world. I had been staying on the antepartum floor of the hospital for one month before I experienced a hemorrhage, causing our baby to be born via c-section and whisked away immediately to the NICU. We were terrified and unprepared for the alarms, medical terminology, and level of fear we had never known before. And then there was Erin.

Erin Cary was our very first NICU nurse, assigned to our son on his first day of life. By what felt like fate, she was with us for 5 of our first 7 days. In a time that felt overwhelming and uncertain, Erin became a steady presence, someone who gently welcomed us every time my husband would run freshly pumped milk down to the NICU or I would stumble down with my IV pole to be able to catch a glimpse of him under his bili lights. In just a couple of days, we came to trust her so deeply that we began to refer to her as our son's "big sister".

What set Erin apart was not just her clinical excellence, but the way she cared for our entire family. She moved with a gentle calm that immediately put us at ease while watching our fragile newborn be cared for while connected to wires and tubes. Knowing she was there by his side gave us so much comfort in those first few days. She even celebrated our smallest victories as if they were her own- like the day I brought in just three tiny vials of colostrum, and she lit up with pride and encouragement. Her genuine smile made me feel like I was actually able to do something to help my baby in a time when I felt so separated from him physically. In those early days, when everything felt fragile, she made us feel capable.

Erin didn't just care for him. She advocated for him. Before any doctor recognized it, Erin noted that he had a heart murmur and pushed for it to be taken seriously. I noticed her quietly discussing it with his providers and assuring them it was there. That advocacy led to timely attention on his large PDA (patent ductus arteriosus), which ultimately became his biggest medical challenge. Because of Erin, he received the treatment he needed in a critical window when the PDA could be addressed with medication rather than surgery. After several rounds of treatment, it shrank from "very large" to "trivial", allowing him to reduce his oxygen requirements and eventually come off of breathing support. She was advocating for him when he needed someone the most. As parents, it is impossible to put into words what that means to us.

She was also there for us in moments that didn't show up in charts or reports. Those moments that truly define the art of nursing. On one particularly difficult day, when fear and exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I became riddled with guilt about our son's early delivery, Erin asked if she could give me a hug and looked me right in the eye and said, "Don't worry. I'm going to take good care of him." And she always did. She wanted me to know that she sincerely meant it.

Erin also had a way of teaching without making it feel like teaching. In a place where we felt completely unprepared to be parents, she quietly guided us. Always encouraging us when we felt afraid to change his diaper around the cords, or felt nervous to touch his fragile skin when taking his temperature. One day, we realized we knew exactly how to care for our son, and it was because Erin had been showing us all along.

She was present for so many of his NICU milestones, including the first time I was able to breastfeed him. She encouraged me with a confidence I didn't have in myself and told us how special that moment was. She made space for joy and celebration in a place that can often feel so heavy.

She even created meaningful mementos for us, including artwork featuring our son's footprints and a special card to mark my first birthday as a mom. I never planned to mark that moment in the NICU, and because of her, it was a happy day. I will treasure that card forever. She was also the first one to participate in the little games and trivia my husband would bring into the NICU to help lift spirits and morale. She was always supportive of these little jovial moments that helped to distract us from the fear we were quietly fighting. These small, intentional acts reminded us that we were more than just patients in a system. We were a family being cared for.

Erin transformed our NICU experience. What began as a terrifying and isolating environment became a place where we felt seen, supported, and capable. She was the reason we could breathe a little easier as we left our son in the hospital and made the drive back home at the end of each day.

Erin didn't just care for our son. She helped us become his parents. After 83 days in the NICU and graduation on the horizon, we wanted to honor her and thank her for something we can never fully put into words. There are countless more moments we could share, but what stands out the most is that Erin always knew. She knew when something wasn't right, she knew when we needed reassurance, she knew how to bring both skill and heart into every moment of care.

We are forever grateful that Erin was our first nurse, and even more grateful that she chose to become our son's primary. As we prepare to bring our son home, it is a bittersweet feeling, as it also means we will be leaving Erin. However, it fills us with so much pride and joy to think of the other babies and families she will continue to bless. She changed the course of our experience, and we will carry that impact with us for the rest of our lives.