Looking around the NICU, and the hospital in general, if you look past the patients milling around, it could be any other office job. The nurses congregate at their stations, the doctors walk in pairs, everyone discussing their weekends. I’ve seen the reluctance in their eyes as they come to talk with me.
It may just be a job for you. You talk to patients all day– dozens of them, all of them ranging from stable to horrific in degree. We are here for you to practice on; odd cases are puzzles, something for you to figure out.
But for us, the parents, this is a nightmare. Returning day after day to this room, sleeping here, living in this hospital– it’s torture. Seeing our precious child covered in wires, poked and prodded, and talked about by doctors who sometimes act as if we’re not even in the room.
We do look at you like you’re a god, because you’re the closest thing we have.
Please don’t dismiss our fears.
Please answer our questions.
Please see us and hear us.
Please understand that however minor our child’s condition is to you, for us it’s catastrophic. These are our babies. If we could give up our lives to fix them, we would.
Please, give them the attention and the scrutiny you would give your own child.
Please. Please help us.