Dim lighting muted the brightly painted butterflies and clouds in the lobby of Children’s Hospital in downtown Chicago. Recently relocated and entirely reconstructed, the hospital was now the Ann and Robert H. Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago, but everyone still called it Children’s. Whatever its name, it remained the best hospital, perhaps in the country, but certainly in the Midwest, for sick children. It was after eleven when Georgia raced past the entrance to the emergency care unit, where, again, a display of giant colorful sculptures of underwater corals—although one of them looked like carrots to Georgia—had been positioned.
When she arrived at the infant care center, the night shift was in high gear. The overhead corridor lights were off, but sconces on the walls gave out a muted gold light. Nurses in blue scrubs swished down the hall in hushed tones, but Georgia could still hear one or two children wailing. She hoped Charlie wasn’t one of them. With her heart on her sleeve, she asked one of the nurses where Charlie’s room was. The nurse pointed to the end of the hall, where, through an open door, she saw Vanna, Jimmy, and JoBeth, all with face masks, leaning over a cradle.
Georgia took a face mask from a dispenser near the door and tiptoed in. When Vanna saw her, her relief was palpable, and she fell into Georgia’s arms. Georgia put her arms around her sister and whispered, “You are such a brave mama; I know he’s going to be okay.”
Vanna’s eyes filled. She hugged her sister back.
Jimmy’s eyes softened and he went to them, spreading his arms around both women. The three of them stood for a moment, hugging one another.
“Is he asleep?” Georgia whispered.
“Off and on,” Vanna said.
“The spinal tap?”
“Still waiting.”
“All day?”
“They did a bunch of other tests first. They still don’t know. They let me feed him, though.”
Georgia peeked into the cradle. Charlie was clothed only in a diaper. His face was red, and the whole of his little body flushed. She straightened up and looked into the eyes of her mother. JoBeth met her gaze with one of the saddest expressions Georgia had ever seen. She dipped her head toward her mother. JoBeth returned it then looked back at Charlie. Georgia saw a tear in her mother’s eye.
Ten minutes later a nurse came in. “We’re just about ready. It won’t be long.”
“Can we stay with him?”
The nurse looked at them all in turn. “Only the mother.”
“That’s her.” Georgia pointed to Vanna.
But Vanna shook her head. “Please, can my sister come too?”
The nurse hesitated, then nodded. “But you can’t get closer than about six feet. And you need to wear gloves and masks. Let’s move him to the procedure room, okay? The doctor is already there.”
“Have you met him before?” Georgia asked Vanna.
“Her, and yes,” Vanna replied.
“Well, let’s go,” Georgia said. “Wish us luck.”
Jimmy kissed Georgia, then Vanna on the cheek. “I’ll stay with JoBeth.”
The nurse released a brake on Charlie’s cradle and wheeled him out of the room.