Elsie

On the 13th of August 2020, Elspeth (Elsie) Nina Mossman was born at 30 weeks gestation. I naïvely said I would take a photo for each day she was in the Neonatal Intensive care unit (or NICU as it is more commonly known). I haven't been able to do that; some days have been too difficult, but I have pulled together a collection of photos that document our experience of having a premature child.

Southmead, Bristol August 13, 2020

A premature newborn baby lies in an incubator, wearing a breathing mask and monitoring wires attached to its tiny body.

Elsie, like many premies, required assistance for her tiny lungs in the early days. The Bubble CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) provides this support.

A premature newborn with a breathing mask rests on an adult’s chest; the adult’s hand gently supports the baby, who is covered partly by a textured blanket.

Elsie rests on my chest, we tried to get her out of the incubator as much as possible.

A peaceful newborn baby sleeps, wrapped in a soft blanket.

One of the first photos of Elsie without a CPAP mask on. You can see the groves made by the mask under her eyes.

A premature baby peacefully sleeps under a soft white blanket, with gentle natural light highlighting the delicate features and soft texture of their skin.

Early on, Elsie needed to be transferred to St. Michael's Hospital in Bristol for some tests. One morning, the light coming through the window was hitting her incubator so perfectly. She looked so peaceful despite all the worry and concern around her.

Black and white photo of a newborn baby lying on a soft blanket, looking directly at the camera. The baby’s expression is calm and serene.

A woman sits on a blue chair in a hospital, cradling a baby against her chest. She is wearing a denim shirt and has her eyes closed, suggesting rest and tenderness.

It's hard to quantify the physical and mental exhaustion of having a child in NICU.

Mother cradling premature baby in hospital recliner, gazing down tenderly

Alex in her NICU chair, Elsie bundled against her chest. There's an expression parents of premature babies know well — a look that's equal parts love and fear.

Parents smiling while holding premature newborn in hospital chair

Our first photo as a family of three. We'd been parents for days but it still didn't feel real. Elsie slept through the whole thing, NG tube and all.

Extreme close-up of premature baby's tiny hand with IV lines visible

Her entire hand was barely bigger than the cannula taped to it. The medical hardware looked impossibly large against those tiny fingers.

Premature baby with nasal cannula looking directly at camera during skin-to-skin contact

Skin-to-skin on Alex's chest, and suddenly those huge dark eyes were open and looking right at us. For a baby who arrived ten weeks early, she had a way of making you feel like she knew exactly what was going on.

Premature baby's tiny hand raised with fingers splayed, wrapped in hospital blanket

One tiny hand stretching up out of the blankets. I don't know what she was reaching for, but it felt like everything — like a small declaration that she wasn't going anywhere.

Black and white close-up of premature baby sleeping peacefully with nasal cannula

The quiet moments between alarms and obs rounds, when the ward fell still and it was just her, sleeping in a tangle of tubes and blankets.

Premature baby crying in incubator with medical tubes and monitoring equipment

Not every photo from NICU is tender and soft-lit. Around this time, Elsie was being treated for her first episode of bacterial meningitis. Some days the camera stayed in the bag. Some days you just had to document it.

Mother holding premature baby against her chest in kangaroo care position

The NICU staff kept telling us how important skin-to-skin was and we obliged as much as possible.

Parent leaning in to kiss sleeping premature baby with heart-patterned medical tape on cheek

A nose pressed to her forehead, breathing her in. We had a brief window where things seemed to be improving — these moments of closeness felt more precious than ever, knowing how quickly things could change.

Baby sleeping peacefully in hospital cot with teddy bear and pink blanket, no medical tubes visible

The knitted teddy, the colourful canopy above her cot — we'd started making the space feel like hers. We thought the worst was behind us.

Parent bottle-feeding newborn in dramatic Rembrandt lighting

The day she took a bottle felt like a breakthrough. No wires, no tubes — just a tiny girl drinking milk in the dark, held by two very relieved parents. We didn't know that within days, everything would unravel again.

Mother cradling baby with knitted blanket and plush sloth toy in hospital chair

Alex with Elsie and her sloth comforter, settled in the NICU chair. This is one of the last photos before Elsie's second episode of meningitis. She went back onto a ventilator in the ICU, and the camera didn't come out again for almost a month.

Baby in pink onesie lying in open incubator surrounded by colourful crocheted blankets

By mid-October we'd been transferred to the Bristol Royal Hospital for Children. Elsie was recovering, but we were waiting to hear what lasting impact the meningitis might have had. She was visibly stronger — but so were we, by then.

Alert baby in fox-print onesie looking at camera with bright eyes and slight smile

That look. Wide awake in her little fox babygrow, staring straight down the lens like she'd been waiting to introduce herself. After everything — the ventilator, the meningitis, the transfer to Bristol — this was the moment it felt like we might actually get to take her home.

Baby in hand-knitted cardigan sleeping in hospital bassinet surrounded by stuffed animals

No incubator. No wires. No monitors. Just a baby sleeping in a cot surrounded by the soft toys we'd brought in one by one over the months. We were finally discharged on the 9th of December — and even then, we drove back every evening for two weeks for intravenous antibiotics. But she was home. After four months, she was home.