I delivered at 32 weeks and couldn't believe how my baby looked six months later

"Anyone watching a premmie baby currently fight for their life needs to know how it turned out for my little boy," the Sydney mum shares.

My son, who’s now 16, has a terrific birth story.

I love telling it, because it’s hopeful, and has a happy ending - despite the fact that I have some PTSD from the experience (unresolved trauma is my forte).

I was C-section shamed by a midwife when I went into labour at 32 weeks, and that was just a small part of it. My mum was overseas burying her own mother. My husband didn’t answer his phone in the middle of the night and my sister had to break into our house to wake him. 

But despite the chaos, and terror of that evening and weeks that followed, I have a premature birth story that should be celebrated. And anyone watching a premmie baby currently fight for their life should know about it.

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My son, six months apart. Source: supplied

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"From fighting for his life... to a chunky cherub"

Winston, my son, spent four weeks in hospital getting big enough and strong enough to finally go home, then we never looked back. So very lucky.

But in my heart, I know it was one of the worst experiences of my life going through it, and I wish so much I’d known someone, anyone, who had gone through something similar with their own baby. It was an incredibly isolating experience.

An old friend of mine recently had a baby in the second trimester. I reached out to her because none of her friends understood what it was like to leave your baby at the hospital for months on end, wondering when - and if - they will be strong enough to come home. 

What problems will they have in the future? What if they don't develop as they're meant to? How have I failed my child?

It's a unique agony.

And so I met her for lunch before she returned to the hospital one afternoon because I wanted to show her two photos: one, on the day Winston was born, and the other, six months later.

Born weighing just 1.5kg, he went from a tiny infant fighting to breathe – fighting for his life – to a cheerful chunky cherub, in a matter of months.

16 years later... and he looks 23. Source: Instagram

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"Less alone, more hopeful"

As it turns out, my friend's little warrior is now a chunky cherub, too.

But she's told me it meant a lot to her that I knew what it was like to stand by a humidicrib in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit with tears in your eyes, wondering why your premmie baby was in there and not still inside you.

I knew the devastation of going home and leaving your baby in hospital.

I knew what it was like to hope and pray even though you don't even believe in God, that your baby will be ok. 

And I knew how it felt when people say, "At least you have a baby."

These admissions helped my friend feel less alone, and more hopeful. 

And that's exactly why I wanted to tell you my story, and share the photos of my baby six months apart, to highlight how far you will both come.

Originally published as I delivered at 32 weeks and couldn't believe how my baby looked six months later