The Small Things In Life

She turned the corner in a hurry. It'd been a hectic day, as usual, but she presented a sincere smile as she turned the corner.

She wasn't sure if what she saw sitting in the woman's lap was a real human child or a baby doll. Perhaps the real kid was hiding under the chairs in the waiting room.

A tiny whine came from the small figure. It was a real baby. The smallest child she'd ever been face to face with.

The mother explained to her that P*rter was nine months old. P*rter had weighed 1.2 pounds at birth, and was now a whopping 4 pounds, 14 ounces. P*rter had also been born with pri*mordial dwarf*ism.

She couldn't help but notice P*rter's sweet face being cascaded in a full head of what she could only describe as "Clay Aiken's hair". Honey brown, sticking out in all directions, and just too adorable for words.

The following day was much the same, only she was working inside instead of with patients. Tiny P*rter needed blood drawn for various tests. Luckily, a heel stick was all that was needed and not a venous draw. The girls in the lab fawned over Mr. P as he was nicknamed. That was Friday.

Monday started like any other day... Patients filling draw rooms, specimen counters were full, people were running left and right and back and forth looking for this and helping that person and calling doctors with STAT reports.

When Dr. Joe walked into the room no one noticed him at first. It's not unusual to see Dr. Joe scooting around the lab. What was unusual was seeing no smile upon Dr. Joe's face.

Everyone paused, sensing some news was coming that no one wanted to hear...

You can stop reading this post now, imagine the outcome of the story, count your sorrows and move along or you can continue to read this post and perhaps be touched in the same way by Mr. P as I was...

Dr. Joe started by saying that he was very sorry to tell us this news. P*rter had passed away in his sleep from complications stemming out of his dwarfism and his prematurity. He continued with he hoped we all got to meet P*rter and celebrate the short time we were blessed with his presence. Dr. Joe wanted to continue, but with a tear in his eye he wished us a good day and quickly walked away leaving everyone in a state of shock.

I couldn't understand how this could have happened. He was just in the office. He was just right there. I had just talked about that sweet baby and how I'd fallen in love with him the moment I'd seen him.

I didn't sleep very well that night. I wrestled with the demons that were trying to tell me that maybe I should have done something different or better or maybe I'd made him sick somehow and it was MY fault that he'd passed away. In that normal area of stillness between dusk and dawn there was turmoil and sadness. How could God have taken this baby away from his parents? The parents who obviously were so filled with love and adoration for their child. If I was feeling this level of sadness and anger then what must his family be feeling?

This morning my feelings shifted from anger and not being able to even fathom the why of it all to something completely different.

How can I make this better? How can I fix this?

My mind raged with ideas from the mundane to the insane. Words like egg donation and surrogacy, as well as concepts like scholarships and fundraisers swirled in the endless abyss of my thoughts. Even the image of a Stephen King's Pet Cemetery style reincarnation came to mind, albeit briefly.

After much debate and lots of inner-monologue-style discussions I will be attending the memorial service in honor of Mr. P's life on behalf of the lab department. It wont fix anything and it wont change anything and it won't bring P*rter back, but it is the least I can do. If for no one else but myself.