[revised 4/2022]

 The weekend could not have been better:  weather a perfectly breezy 80 degrees, most of Saturday spent at the ball fields watching the Astros play 10 year old AAA, sleeping in Sunday.   I had my favorite coffee in my favorite mug and was about to get ready to church with the family and, since it was the Lenten season, chances were high that we would sing “On Eagle’s Wings,” one of my absolute favorite hymms!  I guess it could be said that I was officially “all tha way up!”

My life “couldnt be better” and “wow, Im so happy and blessed” ran through my head that Sunday morning.   I picked up my phone and watched (for the 20th time) the video clip I had taken the day before of Jack making a double play.  I loved watching him!  It didnt matter at all that the Astros had lost both games on Saturday.  Watching them play their passion- it was beautiful!  I got those same “feels” watching Gia tumble and stunt or seeing my taekwondo instructors demonstrate and compete.  All I can do is stare in awe at the beauty that is their calling.

This morning, images of baseball and memories of a very special patient were mixing around in my head.   My heart took a heavy thump.  My gosh, that smile!  I pictured him in a baseball uniform, cracking a ball, then running the bases wildly- all the things he might have done, things that his parents probably hoped and imagined for him but would never be.  I thought about his dad.  He was super athletic.  He would have been great at any sport, no doubt.  I stood at my kitchen sink, tears springing to my eyes, then running down my face.  The emotions hit me unexpectedly.  Some patients leave more of an impression than others.  Some become part of the fabric of our lives and instill themselves in our memories and hearts and never let go.  This was one of those.

I thought about my patient’s mom and how painful it must be to watch other people’s children thrive, while she was without.    I thought about when **he first started smiling, before he became really sick, how hopeful I was that day- literally high with joy -as he moved his arms and legs busily, eyes focused intensely on me in that way healthy babies do when they begin to notice faces.  I thought back to every moment I could remember taking care of him- searching for what could have been different or how we, as a NICU team , could have done more.  Where exactly did it go wrong?  Why did it have to be him, of all patients?  And what about all of those prayers I’d prayed?  Why? Why? I thought about the unfairness of it all.

Anger, hurt, and anxiety welled up with the tears and I succumbed – even though I had already cried over the loss of him, needed to be getting ready for church and risked questioning from the kids as to why I was crying.  It’s best to just work through the emotions, Ive learned.   I allowed the tears and thoughts to flow, reaching a crescendo, when, out of the blue (like alot of my thoughts) it came:  ” greatness lies in your service to others.”

Me: “Okaaaayyyy.”

(Sometimes I picture God sighing and shaking His head at me.)

I had read something similar in Luke, just last week.  The disciples were arguing about who would be the greatest in the kingdom and Jesus shushed their fussing, saying, “Your care for others is the measure of your greatness.”

My next thoughts:  Its not for you to understand.  Be still and recognize the greatness that is happening because of your little patients.  More than you know, even.

I thought about his mom,  involved in patient care improvement at the children’s hospital, about the money donated to Blair E Batson Children’s Hospital, all given with love and for the purpose of helping others.  Indeed, my baby, through his family,  is doing great things.

As time goes on, those memories of him,  sick and struggling to breathe, his body a prison, his bed a jungle of machines and IV poles-a testament to the severity of his illness- are fewer and farther between.  In those last weeks, for me, caring for him was much like being a plate spinner in the circus.  Everyday, I feared one of those plates would drop, and the entire act come crashing down into a million pieces.   More often, though, Im remembering the good moments with him- his smile when his dad played and visited him, his mom dressing him in one of his adorable outfits,  his face alert, eyes bright, lips pursed as if he were on the verge of speaking.  I remember those times the best!

His greatness and all the beautiful things his parents have done to honor him, the joy they have created through helping others shines so brightly, that the painful memories are dimmed more and more.  Ive reserved a special pace in my heart for my little guy.  I connected with him.    Because of him,  Ive laughed, loved, hoped, and hurt.  But also… Ive learned.    Ive learned that God cannot be defeated and love is powerful beyond imagination.

“Your care for others is the measure of your greatness.” Luke 9:48

Never again will I read these words without thinking about this baby and his beautiful family.  I consider it a blessing and an honor to have cared for an individual of such greatness.

**In compliance with HIPPA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996), all names or identifying factors of patients and their families are withheld.