“Not yet.”
“I want to go back to the hospital.” Melanie felt a sudden urgency. She didn’t want anything to happen to Jennifer while she wasn’t there, and Dr. Singh had said that the baby wouldn’t live long.
“I’ll drive us,” Justine said.
At her bedroom door, Melanie stopped. “Just a minute. There’s something I have to get.” She rummaged through the stack of discarded gifts in her closet until she found what she was looking for.
“What is it?” Coren asked.
“Something I want Jennifer to have,” Melanie said. “I owe it to her.”
Tucking the box under her arm, she grabbed her coat. In minutes she, Coren, and Justine were headed for the hospital.
Melanie went straight to the neonatal ICU, her friends following along. Her heart pounded as she looked through the window for Jennifer’s incubator. She felt a wave of relief when she saw it on the far side of the room. “There she is.”
Coren and Justine craned their necks. “Wow, she’s tiny,” Coren said.
“Wait here.”
Melanie gowned up and slipped into the ICU. She saw Coren and Justine wave to her from the other side of the glass, and she felt like a fish inside an aquarium. Trembling, she approached Jennifer’s incubator. The only signs of life were her rising and falling chest and the green squiggly line of her heartbeat on the monitor.
“It’s me, Jennifer … your sister, Melanie. I’m sorry about the way I acted earlier. I really am.” Melanie knew that Jennifer couldn’t hear her, but still she had to say the words. “I hope you’ll forgive me. Not enough sleep, I guess.” She held up the box. “I have a Christmas present for you. I bought it before you were born. Before we even knew who you were. I thought I’d give it to you now.”
Seven
“Can I help you?”
The nurse’s voice startled Melanie. “I—I want to give my sister a present.”
The nurse smiled and Melanie saw sympathy on her face. “That’ll be fine. Let me help.” She opened the incubator.
Melanie tore the wrapping paper off the box and pulled out a long red Santa stocking hat with a white fluffy ball on the end. On the snowy white brim was stitched “#1 Elf” in bright green letters. “Can I put it on her?”
“Certainly.”
Gingerly, with trembling fingers, Melanie touched Jennifer’s head. She took a deep breath and eased off the knitted cap. This time, Jennifer’s head did not seem so distorted and misshapen. Melanie stroked the baby’s downy light-brown hair.
“Go ahead,” the nurse urged.
Melanie stretched the stocking hat over the baby’s head, pulling it down onto her forehead so the words showed. Tears pooled in her eyes.
“She looks adorable,” the nurse said. “How thoughtful of you.”
“But she doesn’t know, does she? She’ll never know.”
The nurse closed the incubator. “Not in the conventional way,” she answered. “But perhaps she knows in another way. In the way people just sense things sometimes. Like you sense that someone’s about to say something, and then they do. Or the phone’s about to ring, and it does. Did you ever have that happen?”
Melanie nodded, appreciative of the nurse’s kindness. She glanced around at the sleeping babies. A sense of foreboding came over her. “How are the others?”
“Actually, they’re all doing well. Except for the little guy over there.” The nurse pointed to a baby who was partially obscured by numerous wires and tubes. “He has a defective heart.”
Melanie remembered being told about him earlier. “Can’t the doctors fix it?”
“Afraid not. He needs a heart transplant, but there’s a real shortage of infant donor hearts, so it’s unlikely he’ll get one.”
“Then he’ll die, just like Jennifer.” Melanie was resigned to her sister’s fate. Still, the words tasted bitter.
The nurse sighed. “I wish we could save them all, but we can’t. Sometimes all we can do is keep them warm and fed and make them comfortable.”
“Well, thank you for taking care of my sister.”
The nurse smiled. “Thank you for saying so.”
Coren was wiping her eyes with a tissue when Melanie came out of the ICU. “I remember the day we bought that hat at the mall. You were going to take her picture in it on Christmas morning.”
“Plans change,” Melanie said sadly.
“Look, I’m staying to see my mom, but there’s no need for you two to hang around this place anymore. When you talk to the others, tell them what’s going on, but ask them not to come down here, okay?” Melanie couldn’t stand the thought of everyone rushing to the hospital to stare at her dying sister. Jennifer—all these babies—should be left in peace.
“We’ll pass on your message,” Justine said.
Coren squeezed Melanie’s hand. “I guess we’ll see you later.”
“Sure. Later. Probably after Christmas.” Christmas was four days away. By then, her sister most likely would be dead. Melanie forced a tight smile and said goodbye to her friends.
Melanie walked into her mother’s room to find her parents praying with Pastor Hitchings. Her mother looked up. Tears streaked her face. “Oh, Mellie, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Coren and Justine brought me. I—I couldn’t stay away. What’s going on?”
Her father slipped his arm around her shoulders. “We want to have Jennifer baptized.”
Melanie glanced from her parents into the kind, sympathetic eyes of the young pastor. “Why did God let this happen? He could have stopped it, you know. He’s God.”
“We may never know why this side of heaven,” the pastor said. “We just have to trust in him.”
“Why should I?” Melanie answered angrily. “If he lets this happen to a little baby—”
“Mellie!” her mother interrupted her. “Don’t be disrespectful.”
“It’s all right,” Pastor Hitchings said. “Your daughter has every reason to ask why.” He turned back to Melanie. “I’ve spent years of my life studying God. Learning about him and getting to know him. And I’ve come to believe that one of the things I owe God is my trust. Just like when your parents kept you from chasing your ball out into a busy street when you were little. I’ll bet it made no sense at all when they yelled at you to stop just before you stepped off the curb. Why were they yelling? All you wanted was to get your ball. But they knew about cars racing down streets, and how dangerous it was. Years later, you understand about cars too, but at the time it made no sense.
“None of us can grasp God’s purpose now for Jennifer’s condition. And truthfully, we may never understand. But I do know enough about God’s character to know that what he does, he does for our good, and I must trust him no matter how sad or bad I feel, or how unfair I think things are.”
Melanie conceded his point, but she still felt angry.
“We’ll see her again someday,” Connie said, clutching her husband’s hand. “When we’re all in heaven together.”
Melanie believed that was true, but she wanted Jennifer to be with them now. She recalled her dreams about having a sister—cuddling her, taking her for walks, and playing in the park. Shattered dreams.
“Let’s go to the ICU,” Melanie’s father said, interrupting her thoughts.
They walked down the hall, Melanie and her father supporting Connie’s arms, with Pastor Hitchings close behind. “The doctor’s letting me go home tomorrow,” Connie said. “I don’t want to be around here anymore. It’s too sad for me.”
Inside the ICU, the four of them went to Jennifer’s incubator. She lay just as Melanie had left her, the Santa Elf hat covering her head. “I—I wanted her to have the hat,” Melanie explained.
Connie smiled. “It’s precious. We’ll take a picture so that we can always remember her.”
Melanie’s father lifted Jennifer and laid her in Connie’s arms. “Hi, little one,” Connie said. “We’re here with you. All of us … Mom, Dad, your big sister. And w
e all love you so much.” She gently handed the baby to the minister.
Pastor Hitchings took a small vial of water from his pocket, eased the hat off Jennifer’s head, and said, “Jennifer Lorraine Barton, child of the covenant promise, I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” He sprinkled the water atop her oddly shaped head as he spoke. Then he bowed his head and prayed for all of them.
Melanie comforted herself with visions of angels passing Jennifer from one to another. But when she opened her eyes, she was struck by the harsh reality of the intensely cold room full of high technology.
Back out in the hall, Melanie’s father walked with the minister while Melanie and her mother stared through the window at Jennifer. She remembered her Big Sister Kit back home and the family tree chart. She wondered about filling in Jennifer’s name and asked her mother.
“Certainly. She exists. It’s just that her tree branch won’t go any further. You’ll be the one to carry on now, Mellie. You and your children. The baby to join our family next will be a grandchild for your father and me.”
Melanie hung her head and felt her mother’s arms come around her. She laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. From down the hall, she heard someone call, “Did you see him?” and another voice say, “He’s the cutest baby in the nursery. Congratulations and Merry Christmas.”
Tears fell down Melanie’s cheeks, soaking into her mother’s robe.
Melanie and her father arrived at the hospital the next morning before nine. While Melanie’s dad handled the paperwork for his wife’s discharge, Melanie and her mom went to see Jennifer.
“Did she have a good night?” her mother asked a nurse who was busy changing the diaper of one of the preemies.
“She’s holding her own.”
Connie lifted Jennifer’s hand and kissed the tiny fingers. “I’ve got to leave you, Jennifer, but I’ll be back soon.”
“Me too,” Melanie said. She wanted Jennifer’s eyes to open and see them. Then she remembered that, without a cerebral cortex, Jennifer would not have been able to see. She was blind and deaf. Maybe God would give sight and hearing to her in heaven.
“This is breaking my heart,” her mother said. “We’ll come back later.”
Melanie followed her to the door, stopped, and looked toward the wall where the baby with the defective heart had been. She saw only an empty incubator. “The baby that was inside,” she quietly asked the nurse. “Did you move him?”
“We lost him,” the nurse replied. “About two A.M., I think. His little heart gave out.”
Back home, Connie insisted that she felt fine physically. She made some phone calls as Melanie helped with chores and did laundry. Melanie’s dad went to his office for a few hours, explaining that with the holidays so close he needed to clear his desk. Melanie figured he just needed to get his mind off Jennifer.
She and her mother both avoided the nursery. Later that afternoon, Melanie tried to read a book but couldn’t concentrate. She still had presents to wrap, but she had completely lost her Christmas spirit. She was sitting in the kitchen with her mother, drinking warm apple cider, when the phone rang. Her mother answered and immediately her face turned pale. “Yes. Please … yes, yes. We’ll be right there.”
“What’s wrong?” Melanie asked as soon as her mother hung up. Her heart pounded crazily.
“That was the hospital. Jennifer’s having trouble breathing and they want to put her on a respirator.”
Eight
Melanie and her mother took a cab to the hospital, because Connie had been told by her doctors not to drive so soon after the baby’s birth. She had called her husband before leaving and he arrived at the hospital at practically the same time. “What’s happened?” he asked, after giving his wife and daughter a hug.
“Dr. Singh wanted to put Jennifer on a respirator. I told him yes.”
They hurried to the ICU. Dr. Singh met them outside the unit.
“How’s my baby?”
“She’s resting more comfortably now, Mrs. Barton.”
“Thank God.”
“We want to see her,” Frank said.
Before they could take a step, Dr. Singh put his hand on Connie’s shoulder. “Mrs. Barton, you understand this does not change Jennifer’s prognosis, don’t you? All the respirator is doing is allowing her to breathe more easily, which helps relieve strain on her heart.”
Melanie watched the light of hope die in her mother’s eyes. “Yes. We understand. For a moment I forgot.”
The doctor stepped aside and, after slipping into the sterile gowns, Melanie and her parents went inside the ICU. Jennifer lay in her incubator like a limp doll. A white hose protruded from her mouth, held in place by a crisscross of white tape. The tubing leading to the respirator was crowded next to her heart monitor.
Melanie understood exactly what Dr. Singh had said. Nothing could prevent Jennifer from dying, but they could at least make her more comfortable until the inevitable happened. “Maybe we should take off her hat,” she said, suddenly concerned that it looked too frivolous for what was happening.
“No,” her father said. “Leave it. You bought it for her. You wanted her to have it. I want her to wear it.”
Melanie stood staring down at the baby, watching her chest rise and fall, watching her heartbeat on the monitor, not knowing how to say goodbye to someone who had never even known she existed.
They returned home that night, exhausted. “You both should eat something,” Frank told his wife and daughter.
“I’m not hungry,” Connie said.
“Me either,” Melanie said.
“It doesn’t matter. We still have to eat. Life goes on.”
He ordered a pizza, and once it arrived, the aroma made Melanie’s stomach growl. She realized she hadn’t eaten since the morning. After devouring a slice, she felt better, less depressed. Looking across the table at her parents, Melanie thought they looked as if they’d aged years in just these few days. She also realized it was time for her to say what had been on her mind all day long.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking about something and I was wondering if we could talk about it.”
“Of course,” her father said without enthusiasm.
Melanie took a deep breath. “You know that baby with the bad heart who died?” Her parents nodded. “It doesn’t seem right, does it—that he had a working mind and a bad body part, while Jennifer has a perfect body but no upper brain? Neither of them ever had a chance.”
“No, it doesn’t seem right,” her mother said. “But neither can be fixed.”
“Maybe.” Melanie picked a mushroom off her second slice of pizza. “One of the nurses told me that lots of babies could live if they had an organ transplant. What would you think of donating Jennifer’s organs to help those babies?”
Neither of her parents said a word. Melanie was afraid she’d wounded them with her suggestion. Finally her father sat back. “I believe in organ donation,” he said slowly. “In fact, I’m a donor. I checked the box on my driver’s license so that if I was ever brought into a hospital in such bad shape that they couldn’t save me, they could harvest my organs.”
“When I get my license, I’m checking the box to be an organ donor, too,” Melanie said. “It does seem the best thing to do to help others. I just thought that maybe Jennifer could help others … like that little boy who died.” Melanie looked at her mother expectantly. “How do you feel about this, Mom?”
“I believe in organ donation, too—certainly for me. But I’m not sure about it for Jennifer.”
“The nurse in the ICU told me that babies die all the time because there’s a shortage of infant donors. It seems like it would be a good thing … to give Jennifer’s organs to some baby so that it could have a chance of living. Don’t you think so?”
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “I—I don’t know.”
“It would certainly give meaning to her life,” Melanie’s father said thoughtfully
. “It might bring some kind of meaning to this whole catastrophe.”
“How can we just dole her out like that?” Her mother looked upset. “A piece to this one, a part to that one.”
“Because someone will benefit,” Melanie’s father told her, reaching for her hand. “And we might spare some poor parents what we’re going through now.”
“If it were me hooked to those machines,” Melanie said, “I would want you to do it. I wouldn’t want to die and be stuck in the ground when a part of me could go to help somebody else live.”
“Do you really feel that strongly about it?”
“Yes, Mom, I do. Shouldn’t something good come from something terrible, if it’s possible?”
“I—I’ll have to think about it,” her mother said.
“We can discuss it with Dr. Singh, Connie,” her father said. “We won’t do anything unless all of us are in one hundred percent total agreement, all right? But I believe we should at least discuss the possibility. I know it would make me feel better.”
Later, when her mother had gone to bed and Melanie was clearing the table, her father came into the kitchen. “I hope I didn’t upset Mom with my suggestion,” Melanie said. “Or you.”
“I’m all right about it,” her father said. “It might take your mom a little while to accept it, but I think she will.” He reached out and took Melanie by her shoulders. “It was a very adult suggestion, Mellie.”
“It was?”
“Thinking of others when you’re hurting inside like we all are …” He lifted her chin. “You really are growing up, aren’t you?”
His words surprised her. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? To have her dad stop treating her like a child? To recognize that she was almost an adult? Ironically, now that he was acknowledging it, it didn’t seem important at all. A lump of emotion swelled in her throat. “You always said I was your little girl. Are you replacing me?”
Starry, Starry Night Page 4