Days Like These
Wednesday, Oct. 27, 2004, 17:55
I was the first one to the birthing room when she came into the world. She lay lifeless, motionless in the bed at her mothers feet. I made her take her first breath with the ambu bag. In the NICU, I was the one who intubated this fragile, tiny child. I maintained the ventilator settings, did the blood gases, checked the Xrays and watched her grow ever so slightly each day.
Today, I removed the life support. I took the endotracheal tube out, cleaned tape from her precious face, put on her pink crocheted bonnet and shut off the ventilator. I watched her father sob uncontrollably while he held her. I was there when she began her brief life and I was there when she took her last breath.
These are the days that make me so sad. Days like this make me want to go home and cry. They make me wish that I had someone with strong shoulders to lean on and to hug immediately when I walk in the door. They make me want to hold onto everything precious and never let go. This is the one and only part of my job that I hate.
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