#19 Mother’s Day in the ICU

I gave birth to Brigid on Tuesday, April 28, 2026 by an emergency cesarean. She was not due until May 19th. We went home from the hospital on Saturday, May 2nd. On Wednesday, May 6th, I noticed she was struggling to breathe. After consulting with her pediatrician, I took her to the emergency room at our local Women’s and Children’s hospital. Luckily, my best friend is visiting from New Jersey for three weeks to help me after giving birth, and she was able to be with me in the emergency room. We were admitted into the hospital, and then at 3 am on Thursday, May 4th, we were transferred to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU). We are currently still in PICU. 

This has been a wild experience. I did not think I would be celebrating mother’s day with Brigid because she wasn’t due this early. When she was born, I was excited that I would get to take her to Mass and celebrate with her. My expectations were changed yet again when they told us on Friday that we would be in the hospital until at least May 20th for Brigid to finish her course of antibiotics and antiviral medication. 

I have only been a mother since Brigid, Finnian Rose, and Patricia Simon were transferred to me on August 26, 2025. I have only been doing this parenting thing for thirteen days. However, I feel deeply blessed that the Church’s rich theology around suffering to help me make sense of the chaos in which we have found ourselves. 

The Church is consistently pointing us all toward embracing suffering. I had no idea how hard that would be as a mother; to watch your child suffer is a terrible experience. I have been thinking quite a bit about Mary and her role in Jesus’s sufferings. The Catechism of the Catholic Church says: “In fact Jesus desires to associate with his redeeming sacrifice those who were to be its first beneficiaries. This is achieved supremely in the case of his mother, who was associated more intimately than any other person in the mystery of his redemptive suffering” (618). Mary knew suffering. She knew the pain that I am experiencing on a level I can only fathom. I find deep solace in this. 

One of my friends texted me: “Yeah, you’re going through one of the worst parts of motherhood, which is when your child is sick and there’s literally nothing you can do about it. Did you sign up for the crash course or something??” I did not, in fact, sign up for the crash course. I cannot deny, though, that this experience has helped solidify my belief that parenting is not about control. I had no control over my loss of Finnian Rose and Patricia Simon. I had no control over the acute preeclampsia that ultimately led to an emergency cesarean. I have had no control over Brigid getting sick and how quickly she is healing. 

Jenna Guizar of Blessed is She wrote the following: 

We look at the pain in the grip of our hands and we finally let our fingers ease up, relax, soften, until they open up, slowly, with tears running down our faces. We let the tension go, the need for answers, the push to control all that we can, until our bodies release and we collapse into the arms of our Savior.

This quote reminds me that surrender is a posture that I can choose to take toward the Lord. I can make the decision to trust Him. Not that nothing bad will happen. Bad things will happen. But that his mercy will triumph over the bad. 

Our priest baptized Brigid on Thursday, May 7th. We were planning on having her baptized at the Church where we were married, surrounded by all the people who love her and will help guide her on her earthly pilgrimage toward Heaven. I did not imagine baptizing her in an ICU room, cords running in all directions. We will still have a ceremony on the day we had originally planned. In the meantime, I have found great peace at knowing that she has become an adopted child of God, a daughter of the King. She is a member of the Church, and she has received all the graces that come with the Sacrament of Baptism. 

Today at Mass, I remembered the story of the centurion in Matthew 8:8 who asks Jesus to heal his daughter. We repeat his words at every Mass: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word …” The centurion finishes with, “and my daughter will be healed.” At Mass we finish by saying; “and my soul shall be healed.” In either case, Jesus, the Divine Physician, desires to heal. To make whole. 

I have been singing “Even If” by MercyMe over and over in my head. 

Faith is ultimately a gift, and I continually ask the Lord to bless me with it. Help me not lose faith. Help my faith remain strong in the midst of suffering and trial. Help me cultivate my faith, so that when trials come, my faith does not waver. I am so grateful for our faith that helps to bring meaning to suffering. 

I had a canvas printed of the photo I found on Etsy of Jesus holding two babies. I put a message on it, and my husband is hanging it up on the wall for my Mother’s Day present. I am very happy about that. 

A last thought I have been pondering. In the Catholic Church, we can offer up suffering, united to Christ’s sufferings on the Cross, for specific intentions. I have wondered if, as her mother, I can offer Brigid’s sufferings for her, since she cannot offer them for herself. I am able to choose Baptism for her. Maybe it’s possible. In the event that it is, I have been offering her suffering up for all those who have lost a child or children. I am feeling blessed that Brigid’s prognosis is good. I know that, unfortunately, not all families’ experiences are like ours. 

Please pray for us as we navigate what will likely be a fourteen-day hospital stay. We are currently five days into the fourteen. I have been asking the intercession of Brigid’s sibling saints in Heaven; Saint Patricia Simon and Saint Finnian Rose, play for us!