- Strange Highways - November 5, 2012
- Silver Linings - April 15, 2012
- Poverty of Clothing Isn’t Poverty of the Mind - April 13, 2012
- Who’s Mad? - April 13, 2012
- Fitness Tips that Actually Work - April 13, 2012
- Crimson - April 13, 2012
- Beneath Watery Graves - March 6, 2012
- Proud Skin - March 5, 2012
- The Forgotten - March 4, 2012
- A Second Look at an Imperfect Marriage - March 4, 2012
link Forex In What Is Better To Analyze Schedules
I remember my final days of hospital duty in the delivery room, prior to my enrolling in medical school. I was beside the obstetrician ready to assist, but I froze when the membranes burst. The baby was stillborn. The feet of the baby came first; the head was stuck in the vaginal canal and took almost an excruciating ten minutes to deliver. The doctor was apologetic, really there was nothing that could be done- the fetus was not viable and weighed only 500 grams. Lying on the delivery table, the mother stared at the ceiling, unmoving. We asked her if she had a name for the baby, so that we could baptize him before we give him to the waiting relatives.
Our eyes met as she fingered the plastic rosary on her neck. She came out of her reverie and from her moving lips sprung a name. I nodded. I could never forget the look in her eyes- regret maybe, or emptiness. I carefully wrapped the fetus and took Holy Water to baptize him. I had no time to linger on those feelings because there was another lady giving birth. I was asked to change gloves and assist, and this time the mother gave birth to a healthy baby girl.
Funny how the ebb and flow of life in the hospital almost goes unnoticed. How new life is born in an instant, and how deaths become merely statistics. I suppose when one deal with these things on a daily basis it becomes routine.
As I lay the crying neonate on her bassinet, it suddenly occurred to me that I was in the same Neonatal Intensive Care Unit my Mom worked in many years ago. I looked around the room and saw her for a moment in the nurse on duty changing a neonate’s diaper.
Somehow I knew at that instant that my brothers and I would be okay. Through the passage of time things change. Some wounds heal as we learn to accept the will of God, some remain abstruse like the young mother’s loss, while some are renewed in the hearts of their progeny, like our parent’s legacy.