"Just us."

I'll call him Benjamin.  Benjamin is one month old and has lived in the NICU every day of his life and will continue to do so for several more weeks. He is of fair complexion, a little on the chunky side with incredible blue eyes that draw you in. Every newborn baby is special, but some... Well,  you know.  While I was rocking him, one of the nurses came over to talk with me.  I always use that opportunity to learn all I can about the baby I'm holding.  I learned more than I wanted to know.  "What do you mean that nobody has ever come to see him?"  "I mean that none of his family has ever been here."  "Not his mother? Not his father?  Not his grandmother? Not his grandfather?  Not an uncle or aunt?  Nobody?"  "That's right. Nobody."  "Then there has been no one to hold him and to love him?"  "Just us."

The NICU is a physical place. There is a  room of about 800 square feet. The room has walls, a floor, a ceiling, lighting, wall decorations, a break area, private rooms, cubicles, life-saving equipment : very complicated and expensive life-giving and life-sustaining equipment. clocks--lots of clocks, and telephones,   All of this stuff is important and give the babies a fighting chance for a healthy and happy life.

But the physical space is just a small part of what the NICU really is.  The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit is the people that bring all of that stuff to life. They are the ones who use these living, breathing machines to keep the babies alive. The NICU is the doctors, the nurses, the respiratory therapists, housekeeping and the volunteers. Those doctors, nurses and therapists are the ones who know how all that equipment works.  When I look at it, it is so many blinking lights and beeps and gauges.  When they look at it, it is life itself for the tiny newborn babies. "Just us."

In any profession that I know anything about, there are some employees who could not care less about their job or who is impacted by anything they do.  Then there are the many who appreciate their job and want to do their best while they are working.  Then there are always the few who  take it all personally.  What they do matters very much to them. They use every opportunity to make a positive difference for their customers, their supervisors, their co-workers and for themselves. My experience with the NICU is that everyone in the unit falls into that last category. They all care about what they do, which is to say they care about the babies in their unit. Many times if I didn't look to see for myself I would think the one feeding the newborn was his mother. The nurse cradles him  lovingly and talks to him like he is her own.  Because he is her own.  "Just us."

Unless his parents decide to  get involved, Benjamin will eventually leave the NICU and go into foster care.  Thank God for foster homes and foster parents. If no foster home is available, babies like Benjamin will go into some sort of state-run group facility.  And I mean nothing against a group facility. Those places certainly have an important place in "the system" for those children who have nowhere else to go. But how much better when these babies are received into a loving family home with parents, siblings and dogs and cats.

Does this story tug at your heart?  Of course it tugs at your heart. Mine too.  Would you like to help?  Like me, you might consider becoming a volunteer.  Not all hospitals that have a maternity ward have a NICU, but many do. Call your local hospital's volunteer services and find out if a Cuddler program is available.  If so, they will be very glad to talk to you.  If you aren't in the position to do that, then consider taking food to the NICU.  Food can provide both nourishment and stress relief for the staff.  Many church and civic groups provide food for NICUs, but caring individuals do too.  The nurses always appreciate good food. And don't forget that the NICU is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred-sixty five days a year and three hundred-sixty six days on leap year. Consider taking the food by late at night for the third shift people.  They get hungry too.

I cuddled Benjamin this afternoon. He's still fairly chunky and his eyes are as blue as the ocean. And just like the last time I was there, he was not alone. I'm so deeply thankful for the nurses who love him and take care of him.   And I'm so deeply grateful that they  share with me the opportunity to be "just us."