Today's Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

The Beloved

I was called to the delivery room one night to assist with

a term infant because of a small amount of meconium that was

present. Meconium is the substance within the bowels of the

infant before delivery, and it can sometimes signal distress or

abnormality in the infant. It generally requires a pediatrician

or other qualified individual to be in attendance. However,

most of the time these babies are born without complication and

are healthy and normal.

In the delivery room, both mother and father were anxious

yet happy as they anticipated the birth of their first baby.

The pregnancy had been uneventful. But when the baby was born,

it was immediately apparent that there was a significant

problem. The baby was anencephalic. This means that there is

essentially no upper brain, and the dome of the calvarium, or

skull, is also absent. These babies generally don't survive the

immediate newborn period, and often they have other significant

abnormalities.

The obstetrician immediately handed the baby to me. Even

the father, beside himself in anticipation and excitement, could

see that the baby was not normal. The mother had not been

sedated and, of course, wanted to see her baby right away. The

baby did not cry significantly, but it was not in any serious

respiratory distress. It did maintain a deep bluish color,

indicating the possibility of severe heart disease, which is

common in these infants.

The almost instantaneous emotional sweep that takes place

under these circumstances is impossible to describe. One moment

everyone is joyous and laughing, joking and high with the

expectation of a beautiful baby being born and all the

possibilities that life holds. Then, in an instant, emotions

sink to the abysmal depth of total disbelief, anger and despair.

I put my arm around the father as we wheeled the baby over

to the mother's side. I held her hand and explained the

diagnosis. No one could listen carefully at that point. I

wrapped the baby up and asked the father to carry the infant to

the nursery. I told the mother that we needed to do some

initial evaluations, but that we would be back to talk to her

soon.

As we walked to the nursery, I asked the father, " What were

you going to name the baby? "

He did not respond but asked me, " Will the baby live? "

I answered, " I need to evaluate him more closely. " I

thought about the vigorous interventions attempted to keep these

babies alive for weeks or months or even years, knowing that

what we could do was, perhaps, not even morally correct.

In the nursery, the baby began to breathe rapidly. The

evaluation of the heart revealed a significant heart lesion.

The chest X ray and ultrasound revealed cardiac defects that

could not be successfully repaired. The baby had other problems

as well, including abnormalities of the kidneys, leaving him

without normal renal function.

By this time, the nurses had wheeled the mother into the

room where I was examining the baby. After listening to my

technical explanations about the multiple problems this baby

had, she simply looked up at me and said, " His name is . It

means the beloved one. " Then she asked me if they could hold

their child.

We went into a private room where the mother could be

comfortable in a recliner and the father could sit close, and

where they could both hold and talk to him. I started to

leave but they asked me to stay.

The mother prayed for the baby aloud, then sang songs and

lullabies to her son. She told him all about herself and her

husband, their hopes and dreams. Over and over again she told

him how much they loved him.

I sat spellbound as feelings of despair and hopelessness

changed to ones of intense love and caring. One of the most

horrific experiences of life had been cast upon this couple, an

experience that usually - and understandably - results in anger,

hostility and self-pity, as hopes and dreams of watching your

child grow up are shattered. But somehow within that terrible

disappointment, this couple understood that what was most

important was for them to give this baby a lifetime of love in

the very short time they had with him. As they talked, sang,

introduced themselves, and held him tight, they did not see the

physical features that often have been described as grotesque.

Instead, they saw and felt the soul of one small being who had

only a few short hours to live. And, indeed, died a few

minutes later.

That young couple taught me that the value of a life is not

dependent upon length of time on this earth, but rather on the

amount of love given and shared during the time that we have.

They had given all their love to their son. He had truly been

their beloved.

By C. Brown, M.D.

Reprinted by permission of C. Brown, M.D. © 1997, from A

5th Portion of Chicken Soup for the Soul by Jack Canfield and

Mark Victor Hansen.