Preemie: Chapter 1 – Hospital

I assumed the front cover would be of a baby, but when the book designer (who is also my agent!) suggested this photo of 10 year old Andie, I was thrilled! So full of hope - just the message I wanted the book to share.

I assumed the front cover would be of a baby, but when the book designer suggested this photo of 10 year old Andie, I was thrilled! So full of hope – just the message I wanted the book to spread.

Chapter One – Hospital

The car stopped in front of the hospital’s main entrance. I stared out the window. The revolving door stood motionless, waiting for a push. When I looked at Lee, his mouth was smiling, but his eyes were not. I leaned into him, and he rested his lips on my forehead. Tucker’s tiny hiking boots swung back and forth, banging against the back of my seat. A uniformed man tapped his pen against the glass and motioned for us to move. As I pushed the car door open, I could barely move my arms. The man held my elbow, and I turned back to gaze at the car. “Wave to Mommy,” Lee said. I watched the station wagon move off in search of a parking space. 

The admissions procedure was unusually prompt. I sat in the empty waiting room, knowing that tomorrow all these seats would be bursting with ripe-bellied women waiting for their scheduled Monday morning appointments. My hand stroked my recently-popped middle. A startling pain in my lower back reminded me why I was there. With no one at the desk, I wondered how anyone behind the closed double doors would know I was waiting.

My gaze fell on the coffee table in front of me. A beautiful, bright-eyed baby smiled at me from the glossy cover of a parenting magazine. I imagined her name—something with Rose in the middle, maybe Hannah Rose or Ashley Rose, or perhaps Mackenzie Rose. We stared at each other. She seemed to want to say something. Her pouty lips and arched eyebrows appeared concerned. Still rubbing my belly, I whispered down to her, “Is my baby okay?”

Her brilliant blue eyes continued to stare silently at me, and I suddenly knew my baby was not okay.  I let out a quiet sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sob, and then a nurse called my name.

A young Asian doctor held her clipboard close and dutifully recorded my answers about previous pregnancies. 

“One,” I answered. “Born on his due date at eight pounds.”

She leaned against the counter and scribbled. Her shiny hair fell like a black cape over her shoulders.

I explained the few instances of bleeding I’d had earlier in the pregnancy. She nodded but didn’t write these down.

“Where is your pain on a scale of 1-10?” she asked.


“Good.” Her pen made a scratching noise across the paper. I had a sudden desire to knock the clipboard out of her hands. “Well your pain doesn’t seem that bad,” she said, dropping the clipboard on the counter and pushing up her sleeves. “I’ll just do an exam before you go.”

She’d just begun the exam when Lee walked in with two-year-old Tucker in his arms.  My hospital gown was pulled up to my stomach and the doctor’s head was between my legs. I smiled at them. Lee leaned back against the wall and offered me a wink. I was about to introduce him to the doctor, when she let out a gasp. “Oh my God,” she said, “you’re three centimeters dilated.”

I’m not sure who called them, but a bunch of nurses were suddenly in the room, scrambling around me. “What does this mean?” I asked.  The nurse next to me was tearing apart the Velcro of a blood pressure cuff. “It means you’re not going home until this baby is born.”

“But it’s November,” I told her. “My baby isn’t due until March.” It was like I had a lead weight on my chest. I couldn’t get a full breath. “I can’t stay here until March.” The nurse’s hair was in tight curls that looked like rollers. “We’ve just got to stop this labor,” she said patting my shoulder.

They lifted me from the exam table onto a gurney.  Two nurses raised my legs into the air and held them there. I saw a large needle coming towards my back end and felt a sting and something cool spreading under my skin. 

The nurse put the needle in a red container marked “Contaminated”. Lee shifted Tucker to his other arm. “A steroid,” she said. “To help develop the baby’s lungs.”

The hot prick of an IV went into my right arm. Tucker started screaming. But when I reached for him, the nurse set my arm back on the bed. Her hand was cold. “Dad’s got him,” she said. Lee squeezed Tucker closer. “It’s gonna be alright, babe,” he said, backing out of the room, keeping his eyes on mine. “It’s gonna be alright.”  

Still holding my legs in the air, several nurses took hold of the metal bars and wheeled me out the door, past Lee and Tucker, down the tight hallway.  I heard Tucker’s shrill voice, “What’s happening, Daddy? What’s happening to Mommy?”

When I tried to sit up, the nurse on my right pushed me down and kept her hand firmly on my chest.

“I can’t stay here.” I lifted my head. “I can’t stay here until March.”  I pictured myself lying in a hospital bed for the next four months, stacks of discarded magazines at my side, a wall-mounted television airing nothing but soaps, and Tucker at home, dressed in his Spiderman pajamas, carrying his snuggly blue blanket from room to room, looking for his Mama. 

The bed was moving fast. “Who will take care of Tucker?” My question echoed off of the hallway walls. 

“He’ll be okay,” a nurse answered. 

The hallway grew dark like a cave. Dim overhead lights cast strange shadows across the nurses’ faces.  

“Why is this happening?” I asked. “What did I do?” My voice sounded far away.

“You didn’t do anything.” The nurse on my right held my hand without looking at me. “This isn’t your fault.” Their shoes squeaked as they jogged alongside me.

“I know I did something.” The nurses exchanged a look. My body started shaking. I was so cold. “I never should have played paddle tennis.”

“It’s nothing you did,” several nurses said at once.

If I could figure out why this was happening, I could make it stop. I searched for clues, chronicling the past week’s activities and ingestions. The bath I took Saturday must have been too hot. I ate sushi. Just vegetables, but maybe it was the ginger. “I put ginger on some sushi.” They gripped my ankles tighter. I could see their hands on my legs, but realized I couldn’t feel them.

Finally, I clutched a nurse’s arm. She was walking backwards, facing me, guiding the gurney down the hall.  I dug my fingers into her flesh.  I needed to know she was real.  She looked at me. Her eyes, framed in dark circles, softened.  I thought I’d found my sympathetic audience.  “You don’t understand,” I said to her in a more coherent, controlled voice.  “This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.” 

She held my gaze for a moment, and I waited. A gold cross swung at the base of her neck.  

She continued to look at me. And then she said, “It does now.”

To read more – here is another Free Chapter Download Chapter 6, from a bit later in the book. Or if you want to read the entire book, you can Order Here.

It’s truly an honor to have this book out in the world and hear back from so many amazing people that have been touched by this story. If you’re one of them, please let me know at

Much love to you all,


Some of the lovely things readers have said about Preemie…

“My favorite book of 2014

“This book…was like a preemie Bible for me.”

“It was my induction into motherhood.”

“This book saved my life.”

This is the back cover of the book. I adore this photo, taken by my dear friend Shandy on a visit to Maine. I look like any new, young mom, but secretly I was falling apart.

This is the back cover of the book. I adore this photo, taken by my dear friend Shandy on a visit to Maine. I look like any new, young mom, but secretly on the inside I was falling apart.


Mother’s Day Book Giveaway!

 Happy Mother’s Day to all the fabulous mothers in my life (including my own!!).

To celebrate this special day, I’m giving away several copies of my own “coming into motherhood story”… Preemie: Lessons in Love Life and Motherhood.

If you’d like to own your own signed copy, here’s what you need to do:

Watch the Preemie Book Trailer and share the YouTube link on your Facebook page!   

Don’t have Facebook?  No worries – just share the link with at least 10 friends from your email list!  Already read Preemie? Why not win a copy and give to someone you adore?

Just Be sure to leave a comment below so I have your email address and can contact you if you win!  The more people who enter, the more books we’ll giveaway!

Preemie is the ultimate Mother’s Day gift so don’t miss your chance to own your own signed copy!

May your Mother’s Day bring moments of wonder with those you love!

XO Kasey


In Honor of National Parent’s of Preemies Day…


10 Lessons on Having a Preemie by Kasey Mathews

1.) You didn’t do anything wrong.  It is completely normal to feel guilty, ashamed and terribly afraid after giving birth to a preemie, but It Is Not Your Fault. You might never know Why your baby arrived early and sometimes you have to let go of the Why in order to move forward.

2.) Not everyone is a “baby person” and nurturing is not automatic for every mother, even mothers of full term babies.  It’s ok if you feel this way; many women do but don’t speak their feelings out loud.

3.) Speak your truth. Don’t let your fears and anxiety breed in the dark.  Bringing your deep felt emotions to light keeps them from growing and festering inside you.

4.) Motherhood can be lonely, even for mothers of full-term babies. Ask for help.  When others offer help, accept it.  By receiving with openness and grace, you are in fact giving in return. To show your vulnerability is to be at your greatest strength.

5.) Create a vision of your baby in the future and hold on to that vision.  Write a list of all your “some days” – walking on the beach, eating ice cream cones on a hot summer day, flying a brightly colored kite, lying in the grass looking for shapes in the clouds…

6.) Don’t believe everything the doctors tell you. Create your own expectations for your child and don’t allow your child’s potential to be limited by anyone else.  Use your voice.  Speak up for yourself and your baby.  You are your baby’s voice.

7.) Cover your baby’s isolet with a dark blanket.  If your NICU is too bright or too noisy, speak up.  Your baby will grow and heal best in a dark womb-like environment.  Post-NICU, explore alternative therapies to compliment traditional medical treatments, i.e. Reiki, energy healing, cranial sacral therapy, Brain Gym.

8.) If you can’t shake your deep anxiety, it’s highly likely you’re suffering from PTSD.  Posttraumatic Stress is very common among preemie parents. (Resources to help – EMDR, Support groups, Peer to Peer support through Hand to Hold, therapy, writing)

9.) Take care of YOU.  Like the oxygen mask on an airplane, you have to breathe first before putting the mask on your child. It’s ok to take time for yourself and let someone else care for your baby.

10.) Choose love over fear.  It’s the hardest thing in the world to love when you’re so afraid you might lose, but our babies came here to love and be loved.  And remember, no matter how bad things get, no matter how lonely you feel, You Are Not Alone.  Someone has walked this path before you and someday you’ll be on the other side sharing your story.

(Copyright – Kasey Mathews, 2012)

Happy Parents of Preemies Day. Deepest thanks to Graham’s Foundation for creating such a marvelous annual event!  Events are being held all over the country so be sure to look for one in your area! If not, there are lots of events being held online!

Deepest love and blessings to you all,


Remember, I’ll be speaking at the Newbury New Hampshire Library Event today at 2:00 -

Author Event: Kasey Mathews
Preemie: Lessons in Love, Life, and Motherhood – NH’s 2014 Reader’s Choice for Literary Non-Fiction!
Sunday, May 4th at 2:00PM in the Vets Hall
Kasey Mathews will read from her award winning memoir Preemie. There will be a discussion and book signing after the reading.