NICU Compensation

com.pen.sa.tion: 1. "The money received by an employee from an employer as a salary or wages."
                          2. "Something that makes up for something else."

"You made me so very happy. I'm so glad you came into my life.
All I ever want to do is thank you baby.   Thank you baby."      Blood, Sweat and Tears


There are a multitude of ways to be financially compensated.  Money is the most common method of payment.  Benefits are also a method of compensation. Things you don't pay for are just as valuable as money received for services.  A new hire in a public company might be compensated with stock options.  The options have little value to begin with. Those options might eventually expire as worthless, but they could be exercised into the millions of dollars. Options are a good benefit.

There is another way that employers can compensate their employees.  I am constantly amazed at how little this method is used in the workplace.  A supervisor can tell the employee, "You really did a good job on that."  Or "We are fortunate that you work here."  Or "If there is ever any way that I can help you,  you know my door is always open."  Or  how about, "Did you enjoy that grand baby last week?"  You get the idea.

And that's the type of compensation I want to talk about. I've been a volunteer in the NICU now for almost six months.  In many ways it hasn't always been what I thought I had signed up for.  But looking over my shoulder, I am very pleased with the whole experience.  As a volunteer I don't get paid money for what I do there; I never expected to be. But I am compensated in a myriad of ways.  I don't go there to be thanked, but I have never been there without a nurse or a tech or sometimes a doctor telling me how much they appreciate my service to the NICU. That feels really good. And, yes, it's part of what keeps  me going back.

Although I enjoy answering the phone or doing whatever the staff needs me to do, the most rewarding compensation as a "cuddler" is when I get to cuddle a baby.  These babies have serious issues. If they didn't they would be home or in some cases, in foster care. The babies reward me in oh so many ways.  First of all, they are warm.   The normal body temperature of a newborn is about 97.5 degrees. Although that is slightly cooler than we are, they feel much warmer than that.  The babies I rock and hold are usually swaddled and they're usually asleep. When they wake up and glance to see who's holding them, they always go right back to sleep. The babies'  97.5 against my 98.6 feels like the warm setting of an oven.  It works for both of us. But the babies aren't just physically warm,  they are emotionally warm.  As I  rock and whisper and hum and pray I am aware of many things.  I'm aware that I'm holding a life.  I'm holding a tiny being who is fully human and thanks to the NICU, who is fully alive. I'm aware than I'm not just holding their hear and now life, but I'm holding their future life.  This baby's very life is in my arms. Besides the warmth, I enjoy the baby noises.  Newborns do not carry on a conversation, but they do talk to me. R2D2 has nothing on the racket these tiny creatures make. I can't describe it. Hold a newborn and experience this for yourself.

Okay,  there is some financial compensation for what I do.  I get free meals.  No matter how much or how little I have on my tray in the hospital cafeteria, the nice lady smiles and rings it up as a "volunteer meal."  But even if that were not the case, as Jesus said to His disciples, "I have meat to eat that you know not of."

I was in the NICU this morning.  Like I said, if they had only needed me to answer the phone I would have been glad to help.  Sometimes that's all they need and exactly what they need.  This morning after I scrubbed in and walked into the unit, the nurse's first words were, "We are very glad you're here." I asked, "How's that?"  And she said, "We have several very sick babies and need you to hold one of them."  She didn't have to ask me twice. I sat down in the rocker and the nurse gently placed this one week old incredibly beautiful Hispanic girl in my arms. She opened her eyes to be sure of me and went soundly to sleep."  I wouldn't trade season  tickets to the symphony for those two hours of NICU noises and baby music.

Compensation?  You don't owe me anything; I've been paid in full.