Selah

Woman resting chin on arm, looking down (B&W)

Photographer: Rosanne Olson

I had heard about her plight when she was on labor and delivery, shortly after she had delivered her baby by c-section, some two months early and weighing only 3 pounds, 13 ounces: she had shot up just prior to coming to the hospital. After having delivered this premature infant, she had opted to give the baby up for adoption.

Her addictions are heroin and cocaine. She uses them to cope with her life when things seems bleak, and being in the throes of labor pains was one of those defining moments. In and out of different clinics for both pregnancy and methadone, she purportedly had used "only five times" during her pregnancy; however, one of those last times was prior to checking in on Sunday.

She had other ailments and I had no real opportunity to tend to her needs on L&D since I was strictly secretarial the day she was on that unit. Yesterday, again a day filled with various and meaningful "women/sisterhood" moments, I had the opportunity to take care of her needs. Truly, I work in a holy place.

When I walked in, she was sitting at the table by the window, the sun streaming in through the sheer curtains, highlighting her as a lone, solitary figure; she was filling in the baby's birth certificate information. The room was free of clutter, save for documents and notes, a remote control and a cup of ice water; next to the cup was a bible, open to Psalm 20. The television was turned off, there were no flowers, no sense of celebration for the birth of her baby. I told her my name and that I was in to take her vital signs and wanted to change her linens. She looked up and smiled warmly at me and said she'd be with me in a minute...she was finishing up her paperwork for "my son."

As I was finishing up making the bed, she asked me where the NICU was, that she wanted to visit her baby - I said, "If you are ready to go now, I will take you there..." Her face brightened, she got her slippers on and she padded down the hall with me.

"He weighed 3 pounds, 13 ounces, but the nurses tell me he is the most beautiful baby in the unit, very pretty and strong..." She was very animated and happy when she talked about him.

"That's amazing...when was his birthday?"

"June 18th. Father's Day!"

"My daughter just had her 13th birthday on June 18th...they are exactly 13 years apart!"

Her face lit up, she was thrilled at the connection - again, a moment of connectedness amidst apparent dire, profoundly sad circumstances. She told me she had decided to keep her baby, but I know with her situation, it may be a moment-to-moment thing because the baby will remain hospitalized at least until his due date, which is mid-August. Transportation may be a problem since she does not own a car and there is minimal familial support.

Later in the day, she approached the desk and excitedly told me of the guests she was expecting to come visit her and see the baby...her countenance vacillated between hopefulness and sadness within moments of each other and said she quietly said, "all is in God's hands now." I quietly nodded my agreement and told her I would be happy to direct her company to her room and take them all down to see the baby when they arrived. "I may be able to find it on my own..." She smiled and walked back into her quiet room.

When her guests arrived, she smiled at me as she walked by with them and proudly took them to see her son as she now knew the way because of her friend "Miss Penni!" She softly padded down the hall in her slippers to see her tiny baby, leaving a trail of wistfulness in her wake.

May the LORD answer you in the day of trouble;
May the name of the God of Jacob defend you;

May He send you help from the sanctuary,
And strengthen you out of Zion;

May He remember all your offerings,
And accept your burnt sacrifice.

Selah

Psalm 20:1-3