In spite of all the lines that protruded from her little body, she was beautiful - with a head covered in black ringlets. I wanted so badly to distance myself from this one, in order to make my job a little easier, but she had already taken up residency in my heart. And this night, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.
Even though she was heavily sedated, she was hypersensitive to any stimulation. If she was touched, talked to, or if she heard the alarms on any of the equipment, her heart rate would drop perilously low. The pressure that we had to ventilate her lungs with was so high, that she was at major risk of suffering blindness. I watched the normally confident neonatologist pacing. He had not left the hospital since she was born that morning. What had started out as a wonderful day to celebrate the promise of a new life had slowly changed as the day wore on. And now the promise was dimmed to the point of being snuffed out.
As I worked, I prayed, ever in quiet conversation with God. As anyone in the medical profession will agree, there is a place that you retreat to that allows you to carry out the necessary duties to sustain life without the interference of emotion. This night, would not find me there. I silently called out to God on her behalf. I asked for God’s mercy for her family. My heart was in torment as I watched her dad stand with head bowed and shoulders trembling with silent sobs. I listened as the doctor spoke in anguish about being at a loss for what to do. “We have done all we can. This family trusts me.” I thought to myself, “You have no idea…”
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