Tears for Molly

Nursing, Mar 2002 by Baldwin, L L

MY TINY PATIENT WAS FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE. HAD I CROSSED THE LINEBY LETTING HER PARENTS SEE ME CRY?

We'd been working on the tiny baby girl for 3 hours, doing everything possible to save her life. Shawn, the neonatal nurse practitioner, and I spoke little but communicated volumes -worry, tension, sadness-with our eyes. The stat lab results had confirmed our suspicions: Three-dayold Molly was septic.

Six pounds and one ounce, she lay in her bed, pale yellow and barely moving, grunting softly with each respiratory effort. With the intravenous lines and continuous positive airway pressure ventilation, the pulse oximeter winking on her foot, the cardiac monitor beeping out her heart rate, her frail body was almost overwhelmed.

The work we'd done on Molly paled in comparison to the job that lay ahead of us: talking to her parents. They'd been pacing frantically and waiting for news of their first child. They hadn't seen her since they'd brought her into the emergency department earlier because she didn't want to eat.

In an empty patient room, Shawn sat on one side of Ann and Bill Patterson and I sat on the other. We told them that Molly had a 50% chance to live. Bill cried out, "Oh, no, no, not our little girl!" Ann wept silently. It was one of the most painful moments of my nursing career.

We explained that a neonatal transport team would take Molly to a larger hospital with a Level HI nursery, and we comforted them as best we could. or Taking them into the nursery, we watched sadly as they touched their daughter's tiny hands.

"Can we have her grandparents and our priest come in?" Bill asked.

"Of course," I replied.

Molly's grandparents and the family priest arrived together half an hour later. Normally, our nursery has strict visitor restrictions, but that night we waived the rules. We all formed a ring around Molly's bed as the priest began to pray for her. Tears stung my eyes as the priest called upon God to help Molly be strong and live.

Soon, we heard the sound of the transport helicopter and Molly and her family were off to the larger hospital.

A couple weeks later, I heard that Molly was doing well and was expected to recover completely from her dangerous brush with beta streptococcus.

My recovery took a little longer. I kept wondering if I'd been right to break the rules and let the emotional group into the nursery. Had I made a mistake by getting involved and letting my patient's family see my tears? Was I unprofessional? I don't think so. I believe that at times it's okay to bend the rules and okay to cry with patients and families. My tears let Molly's parents know that I cared about their precious child too.

Several months later, I received a thank-you note from the Pattersons and a photograph ot a healthy baby Molly. I treasure that photo. In these times of sicker patients, short-staffing, and busy nights, it reminds me that I haven't lost a crucial nursing skill-the ability to share my humanity.

BY L.L. BALDWIN, RN

L.L. Baldwin is a staff nurse in the Family Birthing Center at New Milford Hotel in New Milford, Conn.