Mary
I dropped the paperwork off at the hospital the next day. “How long do you think it will take to hear back?”
The nurse looked at the paper and then at me. “Are you the Mary McAlaster?”
I furrowed my brows. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Are you the founder of the McAlaster Foundation?”
I smiled. “Yes. Are you familiar with our work?”
The young girl’s brows jumped to the top of her forehead. “Am I ever! If it hadn’t been for your generous scholarship I’m not sure I’d be standing here today. Your scholarship helped pay for my nursing school. I’m so grateful.”
I smiled. “I’m glad the foundation was able to help.”
The nurse held out her hand. “I’m Stacey. It’s so nice to meet you in person. Wait right here.”
Stacey returned with another woman. I looked at her name tag. It said Laura.
“This is Mary McAlaster,” Stacey said. “She’s head of the McAlaster Foundation.”
“Oh, one of our biggest supporters,” Laura said. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Mary wants to volunteer in NICU cuddling the babies.”
Laura smiled. “I think we can make that happen right away.”
My hand flew to my heart. “Really? I’d love that.”
“Would you like to get started now?” Laura asked.
I didn’t have anything important I had to do so when Laura offered me the chance to snuggle some little ones, I wasn’t about to say no.
And that’s how I found myself in the NICU. A huge lump formed in my throat seeing all of the babies whose lives were on the line. They were so tiny. It was probably the only place in the hospital where patients were weighed in grams instead of pounds. I couldn’t imagine what it was like being a nurse or parent caring for one of these precious little ones. No doubt it was a roller coaster ride of highs and lows, good days and bad days. And I was about to join this team. Was I ready emotionally to help care for a child in a place where the margin of error was so incredibly small? I wondered. And yet, thinking about helping the nurses and parents made me feel needed. And I loved feeling needed.
Laura walked me over to an isolette. The baby, a little more than two pounds, lay inside the small bed that was enclosed by clear, hard plastic.
“We monitor the temperature very closely,” Laura explained, “because premature infants often have trouble maintaining their body temperature.” She pointed to the holes in the side. “The holes allow access to the infant so we can examine them and parents can touch their babies.”
“He’s so tiny,” I said. “How premature was he?”
“About twenty-four weeks,” Laura said.
“Twenty-four weeks? I had no idea a baby born that young could survive.”
“You’d be surprised by the impact technology and medical advancements have had on survival rates of children born so young.”
I looked at the small feeding tube in the baby’s stomach. “What do you feed him?”
“In this case, breast milk that his mother pumps,” Laura explained.
I scanned the room full of isolettes. All of the babies had IVs and lines and tiny blood pressure cuffs and many of them were on ventilators to help them breathe.
Laura pointed to the monitor. “Each infant is attached to a monitor so we can glance at it and see their vital signs.”
“All of these machines and tubes and lines. It’s a bit overwhelming,” I said.
“Yes, it can be. But we found that cuddling makes a difference. The baby’s blood oxygenation rises, which means the baby is relaxed and breathing deeper. And it helps to promote more stable body temperature and leads to stronger vital signs.”
“And the parents don’t mind if strangers help?”
“The parents love it,” Laura said. “Many can’t be here as often as they’d like. Knowing that someone is cuddling their child when they’re unable to gives them peace. Many feel guilty that they can’t be here and the volunteer program lessens their guilt. Would you like to hold Jax?”
I could feel my heart rate speed up. “What if I do something wrong?”
“You won’t,” Laura said. “I’ll be right beside you.”
“And his parents are okay with a stranger holding him?”
“Yes. Parents have to consent to their babies being part of the cuddling program.”
And that’s how I ended up holding Jax, a precious little boy with the tiniest toes and hands and head I’d ever seen. I sat on a leather chair in the corner and he wrapped his straw fingers around mine. I sang him a lullaby and talked to him softly. And right then I knew I’d have to do more for these kids. I just had to figure out what.