There was a gaping hole where her mouth and nose should have been. Her eyes, closed in sleep, were misaligned. Bundled in newborn blankets, the remainder of the infant’s body was, mercifully, covered.

The head nurse of maternity looked at me closely. “Are you all right with this? I can keep her in the newborn nursery a few more days if you want.”

I was not all right. I wanted this malformed creature to go away, to never have to see her again. But that was for me, alone, to know. For now my role was pediatric head nurse. “I’m fine. Let’s take her to her room.”

The newborn’s name was Misty Dawn. She had been abandoned at birth by young parents who refused to take her home, but also refused to release her to foster care. Less than a week old, and already caught in legal bureaucracy. Unwanted and unloved.

The pediatrician had expected her to live only a few hours after birth. But she refused to die, so she was being moved to the pediatric floor in our small community hospital where she would stay either until death, or until her parents made a decision about her fate.

The pediatric ward was, thankfully, empty. I reached into the carrier, lifted out the bundle, and placed it in the crib, showing about as much warmth as I would to a bag of soiled diapers.

My Self-Doubt

The nightmare that I had kept private, my greatest fear, lay in front of me. I looked at the malformed bit of flesh and blood, and wondered why God permitted her to live. I stuffed back my rage. I wanted to shake my hands at God in frustration, and scream out my pain.

Only two weeks ago I had delivered a baby, too early to live, who had been classified as a “medical monster.” My baby was too deformed to even describe. I had not been permitted to see its dead body. As I recovered physically, I repeatedly heard how lucky I was: I could have carried the baby to term.

And that was the dilemma. Could I have loved and cared for my newborn who was so grotesque that the medical term for it was “monster”? Self-doubt was eating me alive. Now, my first day back to work, I was caught in my own nightmare. How could God be doing this to me?

Later, alone, I picked up the baby. Small black eyes opened and appeared to focus on my face. I could feel her warmth. I placed my cheek on her fuzzy brown hair, and cried for both of us.

God’s Healing Power

The next day we admitted a four-year-old for a tonsillectomy. I pulled the curtain around Misty Dawn’s crib, perhaps hiding her from the world, or, perhaps hiding my need to explain. Minutes after admission, in spite of his mother’s best intentions, the curious boy invaded the shrouded space.

I immediately was at her bedside. “She’s a special baby,” I said. “No, she doesn’t hurt . . . Yes, she likes to have people talk to her.” He had a lot of questions, some I couldn’t answer. In his innocence, the young boy accepted Misty Dawn for what she was, a special baby.

Although fear over what someone might think or say about “our baby” remained, I no longer tried to hide her. I was learning, as I taught my small patients, that Misty Dawn was a special baby.

She never lacked attention, always being held by me or one of the other staff members. Her doctor said it was impossible for Misty Dawn to develop a personality or recognize faces, but those of us who cared for her knew he was wrong. Those small dark eyes would light up when she saw one of her mommies. Her crying would stop when she was cuddled. And no one could comfort her better than I. We had a bond, two imperfect people, one in body and one in soul.

After weeks on my unit, Misty Dawn was placed in a foster home. We cried when she left, but were happy that she would finally experience real family life. She died two weeks later. All of her hospital family mourned.

God’s Wisdom

And now, years later, I again take a tiny infant out of her newborn carrier. I hold her close to my heart, and I can feel her warmth. As I place my cheek on her fuzzy head I begin to cry, not tears of pain, but tears of joy that only a grandmother can know when holding a grandchild for the first time. Olivia Marie, my granddaughter. She is perfect in every way. But I know I would love her no less. Regardless.

God was right. Misty Dawn deserved to live. |L

Regina Smeltzer is a freelance writer in Darlington, South Carolina.

OUTLOOK is a forum for responsible Christian writers. The views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of Standard Publishing or The Lookout.

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November 1, 2009 - Walking the edge
October 18, 2009 - Watch what you say
October 4, 2009 - Proposing a new proverb
September 20, 2009 - Fear and trembling
September 6, 2009 - Elwyn
August 23, 2009 - Where did the Bible go?
August 9, 2009 - The public school: a local mission field
July 26, 2009 - Astonishing the judges
July 12, 2009 - Letting the past go
June 28, 2009 - Line up
June 14, 2009 - The path to spiritual growth
May 31, 2009 - A tribute to one of my heroes
May 17, 2009 - Silent soldier
April 19, 2009 - Operation Resensitization
April 5, 2009 - The temptations of ministers
March 8, 2009 - Conversation over shoes
February 22, 2009 - By their plurals you shall know them
February 8, 2009 - What is missing from your retirement plans?
January 25, 2009 - Turn the page
December 28, 2008 - Abba, Father
December 14, 2008 - Elementary truths
November 30, 2008 - The illusion
October 19, 2008 - Acting like a toddler
October 5, 2008 - Don’t miss this
September 21, 2008 - Foolish schemes
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August 24, 2008 - The dance
August 10, 2008 - Strange land
July 27, 2008 - God’s amazing grace
July 13, 2008 - A best seller
June 29, 2008 - My grandfather’s clock and worship
June 1, 2008 - Reclaiming the name
May 4, 2008 - God is not our fairy godmother
April 6, 2008 - Success: what is it and who can measure up?
March 9, 2008 - Need to know
February 10, 2008 - The top three myths of singleness
January 13, 2008 - By invitation only
December 5, 2007 - Yes, Abbie, there is a Jesus
November 18, 2007 - 10 Ways to be a good Christmas customer
October 21, 2007 - The dividing line
September 23, 2007 - What do you fear?
August 26, 2007 - To murmur, or not to murmur
July 29, 2007 - The cross and the Christian
July 15, 2007 - Turning the other cheek: still a valuable biblical principle
July 1, 2007 - Why the tie?
June 3, 2007 - The death of a son
May 6, 2007 - A prayer for the dying
April 8, 2007 - The omnipresent God
March 11, 2007 - Do the Amish have superheroes?
February 11, 2007 - What’s your black history?
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December 31, 2006 - The house of regret
December 10, 2006 - The redemption of the innkeeper
November 26, 2006 - Too many choices
November 12, 2006 - Break the bashing habit: Learning to love the unsaved like Christ does: November 12, 2006
October 15, 2006 - Be ‘salt and light’ this Christmas!: October 15, 2006
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July 23, 2006 - God speaks through our brokenness: July 23, 2006 Issue 38
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