Rounds

The NICU is the most sweetest, mostest precious area in the hospital. Each time I make rounds through it I notice something different.

Little medical cribs line the walls of a room that has thousands of square feet. Some cribs are enclosed in a clear plexy glass incubator to keep out any and every unwanted germ. Others are open with little babies lying in the center - some cozy, some unhappy. Some have special UV lights shining over them to help skin develop, but sometimes the blue UV light is coming from underneath and it's illuminating the whole flat surface they're on, which makes it look very futuristic and alien-like.

Every Tuesday morning we gather for Interdisciplinary Team Meeting to discuss the patients. Each baby has his or her own set of needs.

In the step down (less intesinve) unit, a nurse was bottle feeding a baby, which is one of the skills each baby must learn to do well before being discharged. The nurse maintained constant movement of the tip of the bottle in the baby's mouth. This keeps the baby stimulated, focused on the task and hand, and "it keeps the baby awake," said the nurse. We don't want anyone falling asleep during meal time. (However, I do love eating and naps. To combine the two seems unlawfully blissful.)

Another little guy has been in the NICU for a long time. He has his own little room with lots of colors, a hanging mobile, and a TV in front of him which plays baby learning videos to keep him stimulated. Today, when I walked in, a volunteer was holding him. With every breath he makes a grunting sound (indicative of his health concerns), and his eyes are huge and adorable as they gazed back at mine. I love visiting him. And I love his large, bright, inquisitive eyes.

I visited the last surviving baby boy of pre-mature triplets. The family and staff have had their hearts ripped out twice as his brother died days after birth and then his sister just last week. Their bodies were just to sick to survive. When this little guy was born his toes were transleucscent, and his skin was so thin you could see virtually every vien and some muscles through it. Daily, mom gives him pep talks, because she just can't go through losing another child.

Two babies' cribs are close to each other. One is a tiny little 1.5 pounder struggling to use his eyes and savoring every breath. The other is a full weight healthy and chubby girl who looks strangly out of place in the NICU.

My experience in this unit has made me come to appreciate the fatness of every healthy baby I come across. Most NICU babies are unlike most Americans as their health depends greatly on their ability to gain weight. The opposite is true for the rest of us.

The NICU is sad and tender. It holds a somber and yet reverent mood in the air. I marvel at the parents' ability to see the good, the hopefull, and I stand amazed at just how beautifully and wonderfully we are made.