It Matters

Ever since I can remember, I have done A LOT of volunteer work. In high school, I have won awards for the number of hours I’ve accumulated. The habit carried over into my adult life. When there is a call for volunteers, I’m usually one of the first to step up. People generally tell me what a good person I am and so forth. Here is a secret… *I* benefit from volunteering. I learn about things that I’m interested in, I meet some really amazing people, I get a stress free opportunity to try out new skills (nobody fires a volunteer that messes up), and I get the satisfaction of doing some sort of good. Through out it all, I have always wondered “Does it really make a difference?”

It was not until I was on the receiving end of others’ volunteer work that I discovered the answer.

During the three months that Charlie was in the NICU, I was pretty much alone. My husband had to work (we had to pay bills somehow) and my friends had to work and manage their lives. It’s bad enough to grieve. However, when I grieved alone, I found the silence is deafening, the emptiness consuming, and the isolation is unbearable. There were days that I woke up and begged for the strength to make it through another day. On one of those such days, I arrived in the NICU early one morning to find a case of Girl Scout cookies. There was a note on the case stating “Help yourself to a box”. It was the morale boost (and probably the sugar rush) that I needed. Somebody had donated those cookies.

Next, there are the companies and individuals who donate scrap-booking supplies to the NICU family support. I do not think they realize the importance of it. I am not sure why I initially wandered in to the scrap booking class. In hind sight, I’m glad I did. I got so many things out of the simple act of putting together a NICU scrap book. Most importantly, I was able to process what was happening as I pieced together the scrap book. It was my first step towards empowerment. Someone gave that to me.

Finally, there was the blanket we were given from Child LIfe. Somebody, somewhere had knitted and donated the baby blanket. We received it on a day that we did not know Charlie was going to be hospitalized. Due to this, I was poorly prepared for her stay. Despite the hospital being a children’s hospital, there were not any baby blankets. My baby would not have had a blanket without that donation and I would have worried about one more thing. The gesture was incredibly comforting to me during a stressful and demoralizing time.

These are only a few examples of many instances. Many times, we do not get to see the results of the work we do. Some times, it seems too small of a gesture to address a much bigger issue. I’ve found out first hand that kindness and volunteer work really do matter.

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About Rebecca Wood

In May 2012, my pregnancy ended three and a half months early due to severe early onset preeclampsia. This is my collection of thoughts and media. It is an attempt to document and discuss our experience of navigating the post NICU world. View all posts by Rebecca Wood

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