Hugs for Nurses Stories, Sayings, And Scriptures to Encourage And Inspire

Special Only Little Annie wasn't much different from the hundreds of other tiny babies who'dcome through the neonatal intensive care unit of Morris Memorial Hospital. Just like all the others, she was dangerously below normal birth weight. Sheweighed just three pounds, eight ounces when she'd been born. Like the otherpremature babies, her heart and lungs were underdeveloped. And like otherpreemies, little Annie had numerous tubes invading her tiny body, carryingprecious nutrients and medications into her fragile system. She also had probesand wires attached to her paper-thin skin, monitoring her heart rate,temperature, pulse, and oxygen levels. Butfor all her similarities to her NICU cohabitants, there was something differentabout Annie. Annie was alone. Thevisiting hours in NICU were very strict -- nine to ten o'clock in the morning, fourto five in the afternoon, nine to ten in the evening, and one to two in themorning. All the other babies in the unit were visited regularly. Weary moms anddads and concerned grandmas and grandpas made daily visits to the isolated unitto stroke, sing to, or simply feast their eyes upon their beloved offspring.They cooed softly, touched gently, and cried silently. Someof the babies were so sick and so small that physical touch was too muchstimulation for their underdeveloped nervous systems. But even the parents ofthese babies came to gaze longingly on the objects of their affection, willingthe tiny bodies to grow and become strong. Inthe beginning, Annie's mother had come with the rest. But she always came alone.No friends or family ever accompanied her. No husband, no grandparents -- no one.During her visits, she spent more time looking around the room or at the otherbabies than she did looking at Annie. She would stand by Annie's Isolette,leaning on it a little, looking forlorn and hopeless. She didn't ask questionslike the other parents did; she didn't touch or talk to her tiny little girl.She came to the hospital out of a manufactured sense of duty, and she had nointentions of getting attached to the baby that, deep down, she knew shewouldn't take home. Itwasn't just that she didn't expect Annie to live; she had no desire to take onthe responsibility of caring for this needy human being. Her visits became moreand more sporadic until, eventually, she didn't come at all. ButAnnie wasn't completely alone. There was someone who cared, someone who stood by her Isolette and gazedlongingly at her, someone who stroked her spindly legs and hummed sweet songs inthe night. Marcie was an NICU nurse who worked the night shift. She watchedAnnie's mother during the first few weeks; she saw her growing detachment andher gradual decision not to love her little girl. And as Annie's mother's heartpulled further and further away, Marcie's heart moved closer in. Insome ways, Marcie identified with Annie. Like Annie, Marcie had no one in herlife who cared just for her. Sure, she had friends and family -- lots of people wholoved her in a gBoultinghouse, Philis is the author of 'Hugs for Nurses Stories, Sayings, And Scriptures to Encourage And Inspire' with ISBN 9781416533597 and ISBN 1416533591.