Time stood still

My story isn’t one filled with trauma, tragedy or illness. It does, however, describe a moment in my life where time stood still. I was due to deliver my second child in early November 2000. Plagued by a pregnancy wrought with high blood pressure complications, I had been subjected to weekly ultrasounds, blood and stress tests to monitor the progress of my baby. My tests always showed positive results and I sailed through until late October. On October 28th my water broke and I left my two-year-old daughter home to go to Yale-New Haven Hospital to deliver her new brother or sister.

My birthing experience was wonderful, much like my previous journey, and I delivered a 9 pound 9 ounce boy, two weeks early. As with any new mom, a wave of joy swept over me as my son was being accessed. I automatically shifted my thoughts to my shining star at home marveling that she was now a big sister! My family was, in an instant, complete. I held my son for five minutes before a team of doctors whisked him away for tests, due to a slight breathing abnormality they had detected. That was the last time I held him throughout my entire maternity stay. Venturing ahead in this story, my outcome was fine. My son, Matthew Jr., experienced a myriad of problems and stayed in the Newborn ICU for a week. His care there was excellent, but what I remember most about my stay at Yale-New Haven Hospital was the loving care that one nurse on the maternity ward gave me at what was probably the bleakest moment of my life.

Her name was Lauren, a young nurse working the over night shift, just starting out. She spoke with me about her aspirations, school and many other things. I was deeply concerned about my child, one I had not had a chance to bond with yet. The entire maternity floor echoed with tiny baby cries, congratulatory balloons and pink swaddled bundles of joy being delivered every hour to each room for cuddling and feeding. My room stood silent. Deafeningly silent. I was alone and for the first time in my life, truly helpless. Lauren became my surrogate, running from floor to floor, reassuring me that Matthew Jr. was doing fine, that she had personally held, rocked and fed him and that of course, he was just beautiful. A doctor visited my room to tell me that Matthew would require a few more tests and wouldn’t be going home with me. His condition needed further monitoring. Lauren waited after her shift, stood nearby while I was given the news and stayed to talk to me. I really can’t describe how Lauren’s personalized care helped me through those few days. A child, even a few hours old, can consume you. Each minute of my stay at the hospital was filled with bated breath over his well-being. I knew I would not be complete without my son in my life.

I often look at my now nine-month-old, very healthy boy and think about his rocky start. I’m sure Lauren has seen hundreds of births since, and most likely has affected many other women’s lives too. I’ll forever remember my stay at Yale-New Haven Hospital because of her.

Kimberley Boath
Ansonia, Conn.