Miracles

Thursday was a wonderful day. It didn’t start out wonderful but at 5:30 I felt great. I arrived early at Bottom to meet the usual assortment of urgent cases. Almost all 14 beds were occupied but the voice of one woman rose above everyone. Around 9am the midwife monitoring her decided that the baby was distressed. A caesarian was ordered. At 9:40 I was handed a pale listless little girl. I immediately began resuscitation. Usually the nurse who receives the baby in theatre is the one and only person responsible for that baby, luckily this time there were two medical students and a VOS anesthesiologist whose hands were free. The four of us worked on her . . . suction, bag, mask, chest compressions, drugs, oxygen. I looked at her purple lips and thought the worst but kept going. At 10:20 she cried. She cried weakly at first, then coughed, then cried a bit louder and stronger. I was so happy I could have kissed everyone in the room. Honestly, I don’t remember much about the other patients that day. I just moved from birth to nursery and back. I left her pink and squirming under the warmer that afternoon.

Of course I can’t say that everything will turn out well. There is still a chance she may die this week, and if she survives, she might have cerebral palsy, and even if she is intact physically, she might have severe mental disabilities. There are still so many miracles required to carry her through to adulthood whole, but her first miracle happened while I held her in my hands and that’s enough to make me dance and sing today.