A father's NICU journey with a 22-week baby

There are moments in life that divide everything into before and after.

For Branden, one of those moments came with a phone call at 4:30 a.m.

His wife, Katie, was pregnant with their fourth child when the family traveled to Pensacola, Florida, for Labor Day weekend. What began as a visit with family quickly changed when Katie started experiencing pregnancy complications at 20 weeks.

Katie was admitted to the Perinatal Specialty Unit (PSU) at Ascension Sacred Heart Pensacola, where her care team monitored her closely after multiple hematomas, or pockets of blood similar to bruises, near her placenta. Because it was not safe for Katie to travel back home to Alabama, doctors told her she would need to return to the hospital when she reached 22 weeks and remain there until delivery.

Branden returned to Alabama to continue working and supporting their family, trusting that Katie was in the right place and surrounded by loved ones.

A father's fear before a 22-week birth

Then his mother-in-law called.

The concern in her voice told him something was wrong before she finished explaining. Doctors were worried Katie’s placenta may have abrupted. They could not find the baby’s heartbeat. Katie was being prepared for an emergency C-section.

Branden got in the car and began the longest drive of his life.

“I don’t remember much of that drive,” Branden said. “My thoughts were racing. What if our baby doesn’t make it? What if my wife doesn’t make it? What if I don’t make it in time?”

For many fathers, the instinct is to protect, provide and hold everything together. But in moments like these, there is no fixing it. There is no taking away the fear. There is no shielding your family from the words no parent ever expects to hear.

Emergency C-section. Chest compressions. Intubation. NICU.

For Branden, the medical updates felt like pieces of a story no father ever wants to become part of.

“I think a lot of men have a tendency to shut off their emotions,” Branden said. “We are the provider, the protector, the person who would give up anything for our family. But being pulled into a reality that takes all of that away from you is one of the hardest things to understand.”

Katie came out of surgery safely. Then Branden learned their daughter, Ivy Kate, had been born at 22 weeks. She was 11 inches long and weighed only 14.6 ounces.

“That’s right, ounces,” Branden said. “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I wasn’t even sure something like that was possible. But she was alive.”

Meeting his daughter in the NICU

When Branden arrived at Ascension Sacred Heart Pensacola, he first went to Katie’s.  She was awake, still recovering from surgery and in pain. They kissed. They cried.

Then Katie looked at him and said, “Go see our daughter.”

Branden walked to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Studer Family Children’s Hospital, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to see. But nothing could truly prepare him.

“There she was,” he said. “She was so tiny. Her eyes were still fused shut. Her skin was almost transparent. There were tubes and wires coming from every direction, and machines were helping keep her alive.”

He approached the isolette and began talking to his baby girl.

“Her foot was no bigger than my thumbprint,” Branden said. “It was at that moment that I realized I was witnessing a miracle.”

As a father of four, Branden had heard people describe childbirth as a miracle before. He believed it. But this felt different.

“This miracle was different,” he said. “I was witnessing something I never thought possible.”

That first day brought overwhelming fear. Ivy Kate’s condition was fragile, and her parents did not know what would happen next. Katie had not yet been able to see her daughter. Branden carried the weight of what he had seen in the NICU back to his wife’s hospital room.

“How was I going to tell my wife that our baby might not make it?” he said.

Finding hope in the NICU

Later, despite the pain from surgery, Katie told Branden she wanted to see their baby. With approval from her care team, Branden helped her into a wheelchair and took her to the NICU.

Together, they sat beside Ivy Kate’s isolette for hours.

They prayed. They cried. They talked to their daughter. They begged for more time.

By the next morning, there was hope.

Ivy Kate had made progress overnight. Her tiny body was fighting. Her parents held tightly to every encouraging update, every stable number and every sign that their daughter was still here.

A father's role in the NICU journey

That day marked the beginning of a 205-day NICU stay.

There were good days and hard days. Days filled with encouraging news and days filled with setbacks. There were surgeries, difficult conversations, exhaustion and uncertainty. There were also moments of grace, strength and connection.

For Branden, the NICU became a place where fear and hope existed side by side.

He watched Katie recover from surgery while spending day after day at Ivy Kate’s bedside. He watched nurses and doctors care for his daughter with skill and compassion. He listened to medical terms he never expected to learn. He carried questions he could not answer. And he learned that being strong did not mean being emotionless.

It meant showing up.

It meant loving Katie through the hardest days.

It meant placing his hand near Ivy Kate, speaking softly to her and believing that even the smallest baby could know her father was there.

“Watching your baby fight for her life and seeing your wife in emotional distress makes you feel defeated,” Branden said. “But I wanted to share our story from my perspective in hopes that it helps someone else navigate a journey that is nothing short of the world’s largest emotional rollercoaster.”

The lasting impact of a NICU journey

Today, Ivy Kate is 21 months old and weighs nearly 20 pounds.

Looking back, Branden says the experience changed him as a person, a father and a husband. It gave him a new perspective on life, love, faith and the strength of families who find themselves in the NICU.

He also carries deep gratitude for the people who walked with them.

“Doctors and nurses who were once strangers are now part of your family,” Branden said.

Faith also became a steady source of strength for Branden and Katie. During Ivy Kate’s NICU stay, they spent time praying and reflecting in the hospital chapel. Branden still remembers the messages of encouragement written by the care team on Ivy Kate’s room windows and glass door.

One read, “God doesn’t choose just anyone to witness a miracle.”

Another came from Luke 1:37: “For with God, nothing shall be impossible.”

Those words stayed with him. Today, they are tattooed on his arm beneath Ivy Kate’s footprints.

A message for NICU dads this Father's Day

This Father’s Day, Branden wants other NICU dads to know that their presence matters, even when they feel helpless.

It is easy for fathers to feel like they need to have the answers. To stay strong. To protect everyone else from fear. But in the NICU, strength can look different. Sometimes strength is sitting quietly beside an isolette. Sometimes it is asking questions. Sometimes it is crying with your partner. Sometimes it is saying a prayer when there are no other words.

Branden’s message to other fathers is simple.

“Have faith that you are not alone,” he said. “Have trust in your doctors and nurses and their decisions. Have hope that everything will be OK and work out the way it is supposed to. Love and comfort your partner, and together, share that love and comfort with your child.”

Above all, he wants dads to know their baby knows they are there.

“Your baby knows you are present,” Branden said. “The sound of your voice will give him or her strength and determination to beat the odds they face along the way.”