Joy & Sorrow

During my afternoon/evening visit with Sam on Friday, the NICU was abuzz with activity as they prepared for the arrival of a new little guy being born at 34 weeks. It was crazy how many people were running around setting things up. I heard, "He's coming!" Then seconds later, another tiny little being arrived and the team fervently worked on him. Though wearing scrubs, the worried dad was easily identified, as he stood by watching his brand new son being poked, prodded and hooked up to machines. It made me think about how Steve must have felt being in those same shoes 3 weeks ago. That made me think of all the trauma that led up to Sam's arrival. I was shaken and had to leave the room. I didn't want to be reminded of those scary moments Steve suffered wondering if our son was going to make it

I enjoyed a nice long visit Saturday. Sam enjoyed meeting his Auntie Kris. I was thrilled to learn I would get to hold Sam again, but things didn't work out. The baby boy that arrived last night, we'll call him Baby Boy N, Sam's neighbor to the west, was having alot of trouble. There was also a little girl, Sam's neighbor to the north, that arrived the previous night after we left, who was in bad shape. We'll call her Baby Girl M. Both babies were having alot of distress and all the nurses were pitching in to help. It was way too crazy in there for our nurse to orchestrate the hand off from bed to my chest.

M's parents were sobbing at their child's bedside. Obviously, things weren't good. I felt for them and wanted to wrap them both up in a loving embrace and tell them it would be okay, but it soon became clear it wouldn't be. 2 by 2, family members came in to see M. Then the priest showed up. Next thing I know, the entire family was allowed into the NICU (only 2 people at the bedside usually allowed) and they gathered around M's bed. The priest baptized her and prayers were said. I prayed with them. The pain they felt was palpable. I left that afternoon feeling so sad, wondering how an innocent baby girl could be subjected to such cruelty. When we returned that evening, M was gone.

That evening, the nurse immediately asked if we wanted to hold Jr. Of course, we were so excited. He was placed in my arms and it just felt perfect. Such a tiny little treasure. I kissed his little head and never wanted to let him go.

Baby N, was surrounded by various doctors and nurses. He was hooked up to machines I'd never seen before. So many. I started hearing the words "comfort" and "morphine". My heart dropped and we realized what was about to happen. He was taken away, we assume to spend his last moments with mother, who was unable to come from her room to see him. Then the staff put up screens around his bed and started breaking down all the equipment. N was gone. The screens were suppose to be for our benefit, so we would some how be less affected by what was going on, but watching the massive amounts of equipment being broken down and carried out, the screens couldn't hide a thing. We held each other and looked down at our beautiful Sam, who continues to do so well, realizing how lucky we are despite the long road ahead. We were filled with joy and sorrow at the same time. It all just seemed so unfair.

The respiratory therapist apologized for what we had to witness, but explained there would be another baby along that would need the bed. We knew that, but it didn't make our hearts ache any less for those families and the loss they suffered. We enjoyed our quiet time with Sam and didn't leave until after 1am. We're not religious people but we held hands and said prayers for Baby M and Baby N and their families before bed, wishing them comfort and peace.

Look at your beautiful children. Listen to their laughter and think of how it makes your heart smile. Remember how lucky you are they are safe and well. There are so many things that could have gone wrong. Be eternally grateful for everything that went right. Hold them tight.