A Mommy Story

In the midst of all this tooth drama, I forgot to mention that yesterday morning I got to observe in a NICU for five hours. I was supposed to do this observation while I was in school, but it didn’t get set up until now, and despite Cordy’s tooth, I couldn’t turn down the offer to observe. (Besides, the emergency clinic was open in the afternoon, so there was no conflict of my time, other than no time for me to eat lunch.)

Some people don’t like the NICU. (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, for those not initiated to hospital-speak.) I can understand that – the area is filled with crib after crib of small and sick babies, many facing life-threatening illnesses and prematurity. Not all of the babies who come into the NICU get the chance to see outside of the NICU again. Some babies are so small that you wonder how it is even possible for them to survive at that size.

I watched a team of doctors and nurses rush to save a baby who had stopped breathing. Her skin faded to white, the monitor flashed red alarms signaling she wasn’t getting the air she needed, and her heart rate began to slow to the 40’s. As I stood back and watched, I’ll admit I was scared for that baby I had never met. In my head, I repeated, “C’mon kid, hang in there. You can do it. Hang in there…” I heard nurses saying that she was usually a stable baby. No one expected her to take this sudden downhill plunge.

But at the same time, miracles can be found in the NICU every day. That group of skilled doctors and nurses worked together as a team – chaotic but with unified purpose – and within minutes they had that baby breathing again. Twenty minutes later, she was stable once again, back on track to heal and grow and someday go home with her parents to live out her destiny.

In my five hours of observation, that wasn’t the only baby who called a large group of medical professionals to her side. When I got a tour of the entire NICU area, the nurse I was shadowing showed me babies of all types: micro-preemies, those with genetic abnormalities, babies withdrawing from drug addiction. I even got to see the infant who was found by a mailman, wrapped in plastic on an abandoned porch last weekend.

Honestly, I loved my time there. Some may see the NICU as too sad, but I see it as full of hope and possibility. Look at how far we’ve come. Thirty years ago, many of the babies in this NICU would have no chance of survival. Twenty years. Ten years, even. Nearly thirty-four years ago, my mother gave birth to a baby at 32 weeks gestation. Today, she would have an excellent chance at survival. Back then, she was simply too young, too sick.

The research and medical advances made in neonatology have made it possible for younger, sicker infants to have better outcomes today. (With lots of help from charities like March of Dimes, of course.) As I rocked a baby going through drug withdrawal, I marveled at how we now have the ability to keep her comfortable and help ease her through the withdrawal. And I realized how much I would enjoy working in a NICU, helping little people get through a rough start in life to experience the possibilities life has to offer and being on the front lines in new medical breakthroughs to save even more babies.

Just think of how many medical advances we’ll see in the next ten, twenty, thirty years. It’s pretty amazing to consider.