Texas Bob's World
This is very Hard to read but needs to be shared. Who
knows, perhaps if we forward
this we can help some
young mother out there change her mind. The clinics do not
tell them the truth.
It was a
relatively calm day in my hospital's NICU (Neonatal
Intensive Care Unit). Two other nurses and I were trying to
have a conversation amid the customary sounds of ventilators
and heart monitors. I was in mid-sentence when the shrill
ring of the red emergency phone halted all conversation.
"Come fast," the voice said urgently. "We need a neonatal
gripped my heart as I ran into the delivery room. Instantly,
I knew the situation was critical. "What's happening here?"
'oops abortion,' and now it's your problem!" responded one
of the nurses.
an "oops abortion" meant the mother's due date was
miscalculated, and the fetus survived the abortion
procedure. A pediatrician was called to the scene. He ran
by me with the fetus (now called a baby) in his hand and
yelled in my direction, indicating he wanted me to follow
him into the resuscitation room adjoining the delivery
room. I looked into the bed of the warmer as I grabbed
equipment. Before my eyes was a baby boy. A very, very
tiny baby boy.
doctor and I immediately made an attempt at intubation
(inserting a tube down the trachea from the mouth or nose of
the infant to the tip of the lungs to ventilate, expand and
oxygenate them). The doctor's effort at intubation failed,
which further traumatized the baby. I glanced at the doctor
and hesitantly asked, "Will you attempt intubation again?"
got to be kidding," he replied. "It would be inhumane to
attempt to intubate this poor little thing again. This
infant will never survive."
Doctor, I'm not kidding," I said, "and it's my job to ask."
doctor softened for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sharon. I'm just
angry. The mother doesn't want the inconvenience of a baby,
so she comes to the hospital so she can pay somebody to get
rid of it--all neat and tidy. Then the whole thing gets
messed up when the fetus has the audacity to survive. Then
everybody takes it seriously, and they call the
pediatrician, who's supposed to fix it or get rid of it."
anger in his voice, he went on, "Some lawyers will fight for
the right to do whatever we want to our bodies, but watch
out for what they will do when these abortions aren't so
neat and tidy! A failed homicide--and oops! Then all of a
sudden everybody cares, and it's turned from a 'right' into
a 'liability' that someone is blamed for!"
looked at our pathetic little patient. He was lying in the
fetal position in the wrong environment, trying to get air
into underdeveloped lungs that couldn't do the job. In a
calmer voice, the doctor said, "Okay, Nurse, I'm going back
to the office. Keep him comfortable and let me know when
it's over. I'm sorry about this. Call me if you need me. I
know this is a hard one. If it helps, please know it's
tough for me, too."
the baby's hand, I watched the doctor retreat and then
glanced back at the infant before me. He was gasping for
air. "Lord, help!" I prayed. Almost instinctively, I took
the baby's vitals. His temperature was dangerously low. I
pushed the warmer settings as high as they could go. His
heart rate was about 180- 200 beats per minute. I could
count the beats by watching his little chest pulsate. I
settled down a bit and began to focus on this tiny little
person. He had no name, so I gave him one. Suddenly, I
found myself speaking to the baby. "Tiny Tim, who are you?
I am so sorry you weren't wanted. It's not your fault."
my little finger in his hand, and he grasped it. As I
watched him closely, I marveled that all the minute parts of
a beautiful baby were present and functioning in spite of
the onslaught. I touched his toes and discovered he was
He had a
long torso and long legs. I wondered if he would have
become a baseball player. Perhaps he would have been a
teacher or doctor. Emotions swept over me as I thought of my
friends who had been waiting and praying for years for a
baby to adopt. I spoke aloud once again to the miniature
baby. "They would have given you a loving and a happy
home. Why would people destroy you before ever considering
adoption? Ignorance is not bliss, is it, Tiny Tim?"
on meanwhile, Tim put his thumb into his mouth and sucked.
I hoped that gave him comfort. I continued to talk to him.
"I'm sorry, Tim. There are people who would risk their
lives for a whale or an owl before they'd even blink about
what just happened to you." Tiny Tim gasped, and his
little chest heaved as if a truck were sitting on it. I
took my stethoscope and listened to his tiny, pounding
heart. At the moment it seemed easier to focus on
physiology rather than on this baby's humanity.
and with that my mind took off again. Here was Tiny Tim
with a whole set of kidneys, a bladder, and connecting tubes
that functioned with a very complex system of chemistry. His
plumbing was all working! I turned the overhead light up
and Tim turned from it, in spite of eyelids that were fused
together to protect his two precious little eyes. I thought
about them. They would never see a sunset, a mother's smile
or the wagging tail of a dog. I took his temperature
again. It was dropping. He was gasping for air and
continued to fight for life. I stroked him gently and began
to sing: "Jesus loves the little children, All the children
of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, They are
precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of
walked in. "How's the mother?" I asked.
she's fine. She's back in her room resting. The family
said they don't want to see or hear about anything. They
said, "Just take care of it." The nurse retreated with one
last glance at the tiny patient. "For such a little person,
he's sure putting up a big fight."
at Tiny Tim and wondered if he knew that what he was
fighting for so hard was life--and I knew he was losing it.
He was dying and his family was resting. Their words
tormented me. 'Just take care of it!' No muss and no fuss.
Then Tiny Tim moved and caught hold of my little finger. I
let him hang on. I didn't want him to die without being
touched and cared for. As I saw him struggle to breathe, I
said, "It's okay, Tim. You can let go now. You can go back
gasping started slowing down, but he still clung to my
finger. I stroked the baby ever so slowly and watched him
take his last breath.
"Good-bye, Tiny Tim," I whispered. "You did matter to
years later, Sharon Dunsmore became the manager of a
psychiatric unit. One day, Kathy, a young, severely
depressed woman, came to see Sharon following an
unsuccessful suicide attempt. As Sharon interviewed her,
Kathy said she had gone through an abortion three years
before and she was having recurring nightmares. A baby was
crying for help and kept calling her name. In her dreams,
Kathy searched for the baby, but she could never find him or
her. As Kathy gave the name of the hospital and the names
of the doctors, a disturbing realization dawned on Sharon.
Kathy was Tiny Tim's mother.
of hospital regulations, she couldn't tell her what she
knew. Time passed. Sharon was no longer a nurse or a
therapist. Kathy was no longer a psychiatric patient. They
ran into each other at a restaurant, where Sharon gently
unfolded the story that had been hidden for so long. Tears
flowed as she gave Kathy the gift of answers.
was touched and loved by a mother.
sent back to a loving God.
visit neared an end, they held each other and wept. Sharon
looked into Kathy's eyes and saw new strength and calm.
There were scars, but she was beginning to heal. The
nightmares were being put to rest. Sharon still lives with
the haunting impact of this experience. A choice that was
intended to be "no big deal" turned out to be a very big
deal indeed for everybody.
has Tiny Tim's story available in booklet form.
information, write "Tiny Tim," P. O. Box 84, Smiths Creek,
design By: Texas Bob -2005
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