By Savannah Mandell
Mommy to Fred
Born premature at 25 weeks in January 2023
When Matthew and I married on January 19th, we were full of hope and excitement. We had an anatomy scan scheduled for our baby boy just hours after our wedding. We were told he was smaller than expected for his gestational age, but there was no immediate cause for concern. The doctors explained that it could simply be a matter of timing before his next growth spurt.
But just a few days later, on January 23rd, we received a call that would turn our world upside down. My amniotic fluid levels were low, and we were referred to a maternal-fetal medicine doctor in Springfield, Missouri. We went to our appointment on January 27th, hoping to hear that I just needed more rest and hydration. Instead, we were told the amniotic fluid was almost gone, and our baby would need to be delivered very soon. This was a terrifying moment. The doctor gave me corticosteroids to help his lungs develop, and within half an hour, I was prepped for an emergency cesarean at just 24 weeks and 6 days pregnant.
Matthew wasn’t allowed to join me in the OR due to the urgency, and before I even had time to process what was happening, our son was born. When I woke up, Matthew was by my side. We were told that our son was a fighter—an essential trait for a micro preemie facing a long journey in the NICU. The social worker encouraged us to apply for help from the Ronald McDonald House, and I’m so glad we did. That support eased some of our stress, allowing us to focus on our son’s recovery.
Our NICU journey was nothing like what we’d imagined for our baby’s birth. After suffering a previous miscarriage at 22 weeks, I had desperately hoped for a healthy delivery. Instead, I had to undergo an emergency cesarean under full sedation, and my heart broke knowing my placenta had failed us again. I had envisioned holding my son and savoring those first moments together. Instead, those first months were spent by his bedside, filled with worry, hoping for signs of progress.
Every day in the NICU was a challenge. I tried to stay strong, but the constant fear of what each day would bring never left. When Fred was finally discharged after 145 days, we left with more than our baby boy. We left with a calendar full of specialist appointments and phone calls—neurology, ophthalmology, and physical therapy. The NICU journey never truly ended; it just shifted to a new phase. Each appointment reminds us of the challenges he’s overcome and the ones he still faces.
Through it all, we had one thing that has been a source of strength and joy: the photos On Angels’ Wings captured of our earliest moments with Fred. Those images remind me of the first time I held him, the precious and fragile moments of hope we dared to hold onto. Seeing those photos now, I’m in awe of how far we’ve come. They help me look at our journey with pride and marvel at my husband’s resilience, Fred’s strength, and my own courage.
I encourage every parent facing a similar journey to capture those memories. When you’re in the NICU, it’s so hard to imagine you might forget anything about that experience. But as the months pass, some memories blur, and the trauma can make it hard to revisit those emotions. Looking at the photos now, I feel proud of the strength I showed when Fred needed it most. Those images are not just memories of a difficult journey; they’re a testament to how that journey made it possible for our son to finally come home.
If you’re considering OAW, take the photo. Capture the memories. These moments are a part of your child’s story, and one day, you’ll look back at them with pride and gratitude for every milestone your little one has achieved.
