Dad Bob talks about his son Max, born at 26 weeks and 994 grams

I just recorded a wonderful Tik-Tok video with you in which you shine

It sounds so cliché, but it's true: Time flies. I remember it as if it were yesterday that you were born.

On December 5, 2012, you arrived, much too early! After 26 weeks and 3 days, you decided to start living, living outside of mom! I will never forget it. You weighed 994 grams. Not even a bag of sugar. So small, so terribly small. You fit in the palms of my hands. After three days, we were allowed to hold you. You could lie on mom's chest. With all your tubes, your breathing tube, and the monitor going crazy, you were transferred to mom's chest. A moment out of your "glass house". It seemed like a massive migration. At last. I have never felt so many emotions in an hour. I was afraid that this would be it. The only contact. Just lying on mom's chest. Proud, of the fact that you were fighting. Fighting for every breath. Sad, because we couldn't take you home! We couldn't write cards saying: "Come and admire me soon?". And even jealous, guy, of mom, because she got to have you on her chest first. But oh, oh, oh, how she deserved it and how sad she was that she couldn't carry you to term!

You fought well, dude

Every single day! Your little chest has been through so much. With every breath, it seemed to explode. What an effort it took, young man. Breathing, something that is normal for us. Sometimes you even forgot to do it and needed a little 'tap'. But it wasn't just your lungs that were a problem. You also had a bleed in your little head, you became ill, had to lie under a lamp for your liver, received multiple blood transfusions, had to go back on the ventilator, and retained fluid. But giving up, you refused to do that! You wouldn't have any of it. We weren't busy arranging visits, there was no maternity nurse coming over, no rusks with mice were handed out at work. No, none of that. We wrote on a memo board in the hospital what time we would come by. We thoroughly washed our hands upon entering the department. We didn't take you out of your crib, but no, we lifted the 'cloths' that covered your incubator to see how you were doing. I felt miserable because we weren't allowed to take you home. That we had to wait... And wait. So unfair.

But then. After 98 days, the time had come:

The well-known little flag was placed behind your name. This meant that you could come along. Yes, come along Max, come home! Every day I walked past that board, hoping that as a “surprise” they would draw a little flag next to your name. Now the time had finally come. At last, that coveted little flag!

As if it were a small thing

I realize that probably in the morning, during the handover, the intern was asked to draw a little flag next to your name. As if it was a minor thing. 'Hey, could you draw a little flag next to Max's name, we'll do our rounds in the meantime'. But that flag, that simply drawn flag, was so incredibly important to us. You were allowed to come along, son! Finally, coming home! At last, it was time for us to have visitors and for the maternity nurse. And of course, the traditional 'beschuit met muisjes' couldn't be missing. Night after night, I shed a tear as I put you to bed and gave you your last bottle, realizing how lucky we were to still have you with us. Now, more than 7 years later, you're becoming a big boy. You're making your own vlog videos, joking around with your little nephew, learning math and reading at school, you're even a bit in love, in short, you're 'just' a 7-year-old child.

Oh, how we enjoy watching you, Max. Our own little hero!

BOB