From founder to user to donor: a personal reflection on the NICU, the nonprofits that supported our family, and the enduring power of community.

You never know when you might need help.

That has always been a familiar truth in my life. My own experiences, coupled with my years as a public defender, taught me early on that pain is a great equalizer. All of us will face difficult seasons: illness, financial hardship, family struggles, grief, and loss. Crisis does not discriminate, and I have never believed I am any different from the people I have had the privilege to serve.

One of our core beliefs at Giving Connection is that giving and receiving are not opposites, they are different points on the same journey. The person who volunteers today may need help tomorrow, and the person seeking support today may one day become a donor or advocate. We are all connected by our capacity to care for one another.

There have been many moments in my life when I have turned to nonprofits for support. But this is the most recent chapter of that story and a reminder of why Giving Connection matters so deeply to me.

Preeclampsia arrived like a storm.

One moment, we were celebrating a perfect ultrasound and dreaming about our little girl. The next, I was being admitted to the hospital at 28 weeks pregnant. For the first time, we had to confront the possibility that the NICU might become part of our story. I clung to hope that we could carry her closer to her due date, but each appointment brought a little more reality. The messages began to escalate:

"You'll be lucky to make it to 34 weeks."

Fear settled quietly into our lives. We waited knowing that the pressure, both literal and emotional, was building.

The details of our final hospital stay still feel blurred around the edges. What began as a visit to urgent care for a stuffy nose and tightness in my chest quickly became a call to head to the hospital immediately. We missed our baby shower and watched a snowstorm roll in from our hospital room. But our daughter was still moving, still growing, still fighting.

Until my body could no longer keep up.

With incredible strength and grace, my husband helped guide us through the realization that we would not make it to 34 weeks. At 31 weeks and 5 days, we welcomed our sweet Kalea Rose Platt into the world.

You never know when you might need help.

Within moments, a team of doctors and nurses surrounded our daughter with expertise, compassion, and urgency. They inserted lines and tubes, monitored every breath, and carried her safely into her first days of life.

We are luckier than many families. Still, there is a particular ache that comes from not holding your baby after she is born. I was grateful to hear her cry. Grateful that she was in capable hands. Grateful for the angels who work in NICUs every day, offering not only medical care, but kindness during some of life's most fragile moments.

Our family and friends loved us fiercely, but much of that love could only arrive through phone calls, text messages, and screens. We felt both deeply supported and profoundly alone.

Then I remembered something.

Dear NICU Mama. A nonprofit already listed on Giving Connection.

I knew the name, but I had never explored it deeply. At the time, I never imagined I would one day become a NICU mom myself. I visited their profile, learned more about their mission, and found a community that understood what I was experiencing in a way few others could.

I ordered one of their sweatshirts to wear during our hospital visits. Across the collar were the words: You are enough. I joined their online community and read stories from mothers across the country. I was still walking my own journey, but I no longer felt quite so alone.

As the Founder of Giving Connection, it was a profound full-circle moment. A platform built to help others had quietly become a source of comfort for me.

Another full-circle moment came in the days that followed.

In her first days of life, Kalea received donor milk while my body recovered from the trauma of an early delivery. I remember feeling immense gratitude for the mothers who had given such a precious gift to families they would never meet.

Later, when Kalea developed an allergy that meant I could no longer feed her myself, I made the decision to become a donor. What began as heartbreak slowly transformed into something hopeful: an opportunity to help another family the way ours had once been helped.

Through my online searching, I found the Mid-Atlantic Mother's Milk Bank. The process was seamless, a comforting conversation with Ellen to determine eligibility, a simple blood test, and the chance to give back in a way I never could have anticipated. I never imagined my journey as a mother would look like this. Yet somehow, my sadness became hope. My loss became someone else's support.

Today, the Mid-Atlantic Mother's Milk Bank is also part of the Giving Connection community. Another beautiful reminder that the work we do is deeply human and deeply personal.

You never know when you might need help.

And you never know how you might one day help someone else.

That is the beauty of this human experience. We move through seasons of giving and receiving, often without realizing how closely connected they are. We carry one another through life's hardest moments, sometimes as strangers, sometimes as friends, but always as part of the same larger community.

I am grateful for the nonprofits that held my family when we needed them. I am grateful for the opportunity to give back in return. And I am grateful to be building a platform that reminds us all of a simple truth: None of us are meant to do this alone.

The nonprofits that supported my family were once simply names on a screen, until one day they became part of our story. I hope you'll take a moment to discover the organizations in your own community, whether you need help today, want to lend a hand, or simply hope to give back. You never know when a small act of kindness, a shared resource, or a welcoming community might change someone's life, including your own.