The NICU is a wondrous place. It's a place where the most fragile of infants go to hopefully receive life saving medical care. No other place in the world tries to imitate a mother's womb with a combination of soft, yet efficient, lighting, gentle, yet sterile, surfaces and state-of-the-art medical equipment. It's a careful dance. You rejoice with the parents of a baby that has thrived and can now go home, and within the same walls, moments later you offer condolences to the devastated parents of a young life that modern medicine could not save. I know this place well and I hope - with the help of brilliant minds - we can come to build the best NICU the world has ever known.

When we found ourselves pregnant with our third child, we were thrilled. I could not wait to learn what we were having so I could immediately design this new child's world. From a name to wall colors to even the tiniest detail on socks; I wanted to be totally prepared. After having a healthy pregnancy with both our son and daughter, I feared nothing at all. The next few events are those for which no one can be prepared. Those tense moments at my 22 week ultrasound are forever engraved in my mind. When our doctor walked into the exam room, she had tears in her eyes. She proceeded to share our new baby was a girl, but there was something else. Our precious unborn child had Spina Bifida.

Her diagnosis of Myelomeningecile brought with it Chiari Malformation, Hydrocephalus, and a high risk of paralysis. Immediately we had to mourn the loss of the perfectly healthy baby we had envisioned, and come to understand this new child and all the medical issues she would encounter. All of a sudden being prepared took on a whole different meaning. Our hearts shattered in a million pieces and trying to learn everything we could about our baby's diagnosis was our only solace. My husband came across doctors that had pioneered in utero fetal surgery for the closure of Spina Bifida.

Just weeks after receiving the devastating blow, we flew to Nashville, TN where physicians offered hope and a chance to protect our baby's vulnerable spinal cord while she continued to grow within me. After a successful surgery at 26 weeks gestation, I returned home with orders to remain on strict bed rest and deliver our precious angel via c-section no later than 36 weeks.

Delivery day arrived and our daughter entered the world at a strong weight of 6 pounds! The doctors and nurses were thrilled at how well she was doing, however with such a severe diagnosis, our baby girl needed to go to this special place called the NICU. After hours in recovery, I longed to hold my child. Once I got feeling back into my arms and the anesthesia began to wear off, the nurses pushed me in my huge hospital bed into the NICU. "Where are we going?" I asked as the confused faces of other parents keeping careful watch over their babies followed me. We finally reached our baby's isolette and as soon as I took her in my arms I became violently sick from the anesthesia. I was mortified! It was far from the beautiful moment I had envisioned when I would hold my child for the first time. The NICU parents that had scrubbed their hands and worn gowns to protect their fragile infants watched in horror as I got sick. Please take me away, I yelled. My post partum room was on the 7th floor. My baby had to stay on the 2nd floor NICU. I begged the nurses to call me as soon as she cried in hunger. By the time I received the call and slowly got into a wheelchair to travel down several floors, my tiny little girl had spent all her energy crying and could not feed properly. The nurses showed me the feeding room, which had been crafted together with a couple of hospital sheets hung in the corner of the room. A very hard upright chair was placed there and the old fashioned light above was far from calming. I ended up sleeping in the chair by my baby's isolette so I could be close by when she needed to eat again.

Nannette Salasek & Baby