Notes From the NICU Series | The Stories That Stay With Us
Oct 06, 2026
I went to Phoenix recently and visited two NICUs where I'd trained the healthcare teams in babywearing. I looked forward to seeing how they used carriers, meeting with the teams, and better understanding how babywearing fit into their everyday routines.
I came home thinking about
a ten-year-old boy,
a hallway filled with smiling children,
and a nurse caring for a tiny baby.
Let me tell you about them.
•••
A birthday gift
The ten-year-old, whom I'll call Patrick (I've changed his name for privacy), celebrated his birthday by delivering more than 450 baby blankets to the NICU where he'd spent his earliest days. And apparently, he does this every year.
He happened to visit Banner Desert early the same day I was there, and I had the pleasure of hearing part of his story.
It turns out that Patrick had a NICU buddy of sorts. Another little boy had spent an extended period in the hospital at around the same time, and the two shared the same primary nurse.
If you're unfamiliar with the term, a primary nurse is a nurse who cares for the same baby(s) consistently over time, which can be especially meaningful during a lengthy hospital stay.
I couldn't help imagining these two little boys, neither of whom had any idea they were sharing such an important experience, ‘growing up together’ in a way.
But here's my favorite part. Both boys and their families return to the hospital each year with gifts. Patrick brings blankets for the babies in the NICU, while the other boy, who spent additional time in the pediatric department, brings stuffed animals for the hospitalized children.
It's wonderful to me that these families have made giving back part of their children's birthdays. What a way to acknowledge the people who cared for them during such a vulnerable time, and to provide a little comfort to the families who are there today.
•••
What I noticed when I walked around
As I toured the two hospitals, I was struck by how different they were. You might imagine one NICU looks much like another, but these two had remarkably different layouts, lighting, colors, temperatures, and ways of organizing their spaces.
And then there were the little things I hadn't expected to notice.
At one hospital, the ceiling tiles were decorated with images that made them interesting and attractive to look at. It took me a moment to appreciate how thoughtful that was.
When you and I walk through a hallway, we're usually looking straight ahead. But imagine being transported through that same hallway on your back, looking upward the entire time. Someone had thought about that experience and made the view a little more interesting.
There was also a lovely courtyard with a quiet garden and water feature. I could easily imagine a parent stepping away from their baby's bedside after a difficult morning, finding a place to sit for a few minutes, and gathering themselves before returning.
Coming from New York, where hospitals don't always have the luxury of that kind of space, I found it particularly lovely.
At the other hospital, I was fascinated by the department's sheer size and how antepartum, labor and delivery, postpartum, and NICU care were situated together. I thought about the families moving through those spaces and how connecting those services might offer continuity during an already overwhelming experience.
•••
A moment at the bedside
But of all the things I saw during my visits, one moment I keep returning to is a nurse caring for a tiny baby.
There was nothing especially dramatic happening. She was simply going about the work of caring for her patient. But I was captivated by how she did it.
The baby was fragile and startled easily. I watched the infant startle and saw the nurse respond, adjusting her care with such sensitivity. She spoke to the baby, acknowledged them, and seemed to pay constant attention to what this little person was communicating.
And then, at one point, she looked up and noticed me watching.
She already knew who I was, as we'd been introduced earlier, but I appreciated that she was aware of my presence, too. She was attending to this vulnerable infant while remaining tuned into what was happening around her.
I stood there, watching and thinking about how much communication was happening between these two people, one of whom couldn't speak.
And then I found myself thinking about my own baby.
Nearly twenty years ago, I was the parent of a baby in the NICU. I don't write about it often, but standing there watching this nurse brought that experience back to me in a way I hadn't expected. I remembered what it felt like to have someone else caring for my baby, to have to trust that the people at the bedside would recognize what my baby needed when I couldn't be there myself.
And here I was, almost twenty years later, visiting NICUs as someone who now trains healthcare professionals to incorporate infant carrying into their care.
A bit of a full-circle moment, I suppose.
Watching this nurse, I thought about how fortunate that baby's family was to have someone so attentive at the bedside.
The baby couldn't possibly understand everything happening around them, but they could experience it. The sound of a voice, the pressure of touch, a change in position, and the way someone responded when they became startled were all part of that baby's world.
So much communication happens long before a baby has words, and I watched someone who was listening.
•••
The hallway of graduates
There was another image from the visits that stayed with me.
Along one of the hospital hallways were photographs of NICU graduates. Beautiful, joyful pictures of children who'd once been patients in that department and had gone on to grow and experience life beyond the hospital. I didn't take a photograph because those pictures aren't mine to share, but I wish I could convey how lovely it was to see them all together.
I imagined being a parent walking through that hallway during a particularly difficult day, seeing all those smiling faces, and perhaps finding a little encouragement in the stories of families who'd walked those same halls before. And I found myself thinking again about Patrick and his birthday blankets, and his NICU buddy bringing stuffed animals.
Maybe one day in the future, a baby who's being worn by a nurse in one of these NICUs today, will return on their tenth birthday with a donation of baby carriers for the next generation.
I'd love to see that happen.
•••
I went to Phoenix to learn more about how babywearing was being incorporated into hospital care, and I did. I came away with a much better understanding of the spaces, systems, and people involved in making it happen.
But I also came home with these stories and a renewed appreciation for the many ways thoughtful, responsive care can reach beyond hospital walls and into families' lives.
This is the first in my Notes From the NICU series, reflecting on recent visits to two Arizona hospitals. In the next piece, I'll take you behind the scenes of babywearing implementation and share what I learned about bringing infant carrying into daily hospital care.
