HALLELUJAH, PRAISE THE LORD, a thank you note to a wonderful young woman

B"H  

There are these remarkable people who arrive in our lives for a moment of need and leave us changed for a lifetime.  How can we thank them? 

When Rachel was born, no one left the room.  It was quiet.  The nurses whisked her away to a side area, cleaning her up and checking her out.  They were horrified and unable to mask those emotions.  Eventually, with a dressed and swaddled baby in her arms and with the care you’d give to a bag of beans, the nurse went to the waiting room and called for the family of Joanne.  Nancy, my friend, stood up.  The nurse shoved the baby into her arms with an awful-sounding “here”.  Nancy looked at my beautiful newborn girl in her arms and walked over to my father.  She gently placed the baby in his arms.  For the next hour he traced every tiny feature on her face and counted fingers and toes. 

A happy maternity ward is a joyous and fun place to be.  Flowers and balloons and smiling faces are always moving in and out of the rooms and up and down the hallways.  An unhappy maternity ward is another world.  Wailing permeates the air.  Grim faces stalk the hallways when there are faces.  There is a stunned and screaming silence.  This is where the doctors put me and my new little girl with Down Syndrome.  We were alone for most of the time.  Besides my husband, my son, and my parents, only my nurse midwife dealt with us in a friendly way.  Everyone else acted gruff, as if they were thinking, “this is a big deal university hospital … how could this happen?”  Very few respected the new life in my arms. 

The day they took my baby away for her cardiology tests, I began to tremble and could not stop.  Shortly thereafter a young practical nurse or nursing assistant came in my room to freshen my bed linens and bathroom towels.  She took one look at me and knew instantly that something was dreadfully wrong.  So she spoke to me.  I told her that they had taken my baby away from me for cardiology tests.  My tears and crying broke through every word.  She then asked me if I wanted her to pray with me.  Instantly I stopped trembling.  Even the tears and the crying came to an abrupt halt.  I was shocked by her question.  “Well, um, yes, please.  Do they allow you to do that here?”  I knew this place because I had been a student at this institution.    She shushed me as she went to the doorway of my room.  She looked both ways before closing the door.  She put the garbage can right next to the closed door for good measure.  Then, she came to my bed, where I sat.  With her hands clasped over mine, this soto voce prayer began to rise from her lips.  “Dear Lord Jesus, protect this woman’s baby.  Heal her baby’s heart and grant that poor little one a healthy life!  Hallelujah, Amen!”  I was no longer trembling.  My tears had completely ceased.  Fresh linens were on my bed and dry towels were hung in the bathroom.  She was gone in a flash.  Later in the day, this wonderful young black woman returned to meet my new baby girl.  “You’ll have lots of joy, ma’am.”  Then she left for the day. 

My husband had to return to work.  The day that I received the results from my baby’s cardiology tests, my parents, son and baby girl were with me when my room was invaded by seven cardiology residents plus one professor.  That top doctor asked me, “What’s the baby’s name?”  I answered that she would be named on the first full Sabbath of her life and mentioned that we had waited eight days before we had named our son.  (These are Jewish traditions.)  One of the residents leaned forward to whisper something to his professor.  I noticed that the young resident was wearing a yarmulke (a skullcap worn by Jewish men).  Test by test we received the results.  Thank God, our new little girl had a healthy heart!

The eight doctors gathered their papers, graphs, pictures, and files.  In fact, there was more paper than baby.  The last doctor to leave my room was the young man with the yarmulke.  “Mazal tov (congratulations)” he said on his way out of the room.  My baby’s first mazal tov!

The next day, that wonderful young woman came back to my room.  With bated breath, she asked me how my baby was.  I was able to tell her with gratitude and relief that my new little girl had a healthy heart.  In her incredibly cleaned and pressed uniform, she fell to her knees in tears and reached for heaven the moment she heard the good news.  “The Lord Jesus heals all!  Hallelujah!  Amen!”  The bed got fresh linens, the bathroom fresh towels.  She was gone in a flash.  I never learned her name.  Many thanks from the depths of my heart and soul for this young woman’s sincere prayers.  What comfort and kindness she gave me.  What a beautiful blessing she bestowed upon my daughter.  I think of her often.