NICU Update-- Pink and Breathing

"Imagine me and you, I do.
I think about you day and night,
It's only right.
To think about the girl you love
And hold her tight
So happy together."  Happy Together,  The Turtles, 1967

There is a story you've probably heard about a man and a young boy who were walking together on a beach.  The ebbing tide had left hundreds of starfish helplessly stranded on the sand. As they walked along, the boy would reach down from time to time and toss one into the water. After he had done this several times, the man said to him, "That doesn't make any difference you know."  And the little boy reached down, picked up a starfish and threw it into the water, looked up and said, "It did for that one."

A couple of months ago, after celebrating my first anniversary as a cuddler, I almost quit. The NICU was breaking my heart.

During my orientation with the director of the NICU, I told her that I write a blog.  I told her that I write about the things that matter the most to me and the things I feel most deeply. So I asked her if I could write about my experience in her unit.  She said, "Yes, I would even encourage you to do that. Just don't mention any names and don't relate many specifics."   The fact that I feel so deeply about those babies is why I don't write about what happens in that unit very often. That restriction of "don't relate any specifics" leaves me speechless.

Every baby I have rocked, fed and diapered over these past fourteen months has a story. Each baby is unique and his or her story is unique. Some of those stories make me smile. Other stories make me very sad. And many of them make me angry. There are so many warm and wonderful stories from the NICU,  but those aren't the ones that stayed with me.

So I was going to quit.  I was tired of leaving the NICU feeling angry and somewhat depressed. And I was growing cynical that my meager efforts could make any difference in their challenged lives. Many times when I'm upset, I see the counselor who I have been seeing for twenty five years. He always has a way of helping me see things in a different light.  No matter how distressed I am when I walk in, I have always left his office feeling better than when I got there. I was headed his direction to talk about this urge to quit when the answer came to me as plain as day, "You are not there to fix anything; you are there to hold those babies  and to love them. That's all you are supposed to do and all you can do.The circumstances that bring them to the unit and their circumstances when they leave are not in your control and are none of your concern."

Since that personal epiphany I have had a completely different attitude and disposition. Although the realities can be heavy,  I choose to not become heavy.  My only reality weighs from three to eight pounds. If she's crying, she needs to be comforted.  If she's hungry she needs to be fed. If she's wet, she needs to be changed. This morning I asked my baby's nurse what I needed to know before I fed him and she said, "Just make sure he's pink and breathing."

Now I'm asking you to read between the lines.  There is no need for you to figure out which NICU  I serve.  There is no need for you to know any of the stories that I know. There is a hospital near you where they bring tiny babies into the world. Each of those babies have a story. Not all of these stories are warm and fuzzy.  Not all of these babies will go home with mommy and daddy. You are very familiar with how many babies don't have a father. You would be surprised to learn how many don't have a mother.  Call the hospital's volunteer services and ask them what you can do to help. There's something else you can do. Get involved in foster care.  Call your local Department of Family and Children Services. If you're not sure where that is then call your state's Division of Family and Children Services.  These agencies are desperate for caring people such as yourself.  The babies and children are desperate for caring people such as yourself.  Other than the standard criminal background check, the only other requirements are to be willing to share your help and your love, and to be pink and breathing.

The nurse told me this morning that my little man  needed to take a bottle and a half of formula.  He wolfed down the first one, but into the second one he just stopped eating. No amount of coaxing on my part would make him drink another drop. And yes, I tried to burp him. I looked at the bottle to see if it was half gone. "Close enough." I put the bottle down,  picked him up, put him on my shoulder, gently patted his back and within minutes he was sound asleep. Pink and breathing.

I didn't help every needy baby in the world this morning. I didn't even help every baby in the NICU. But I helped that one.  And if he only knew how much he helped me.