Quote from Forum Archives on July 31, 2006, 3:43 pm

Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>

"The Touch"

 

 

Yesterday I paused outside the deli in my office
building to let pass a rather harried looking
mother pushing a stroller loaded with a variety
of shoulder bags and a small little girl.

 

My mind was elsewhere and I never actually
saw what caused it, but halfway through this
narrow doorway a wheel of the stroller caught
on the threshold and tipped the entire load
forward. Caught off balance and a little pre-
occupied herself, this young lady lost her grip
and the stroller pitched forward, spilling the
contents of several bags and one very
frightened brown haired child.

 

Instinct took over and as any father would do,
my first reaction was to lift this baby to my
shoulder, pat her on the back and console her.
I couldn't get over how light she was or how
strange it was that she didn't look around for
her mother. She just cried and stared directly
at the wall and never turned her head in any
direction.

 

Despite her small stature, Angelica, as I would
later learn her name was, nearly choked me with
her grip, as she frantically held onto my shirt and
neck. Never responding to my voice as my daughter
had, Angelica pressed her face into my hands as
I stroked her hair and wiped the tears from her
wide green eyes.

 

It only took a second or two for her mother to free
the stroller from the doorway and race to my side,
but Angelica would not let go of my shoulder and
hand so I told her mother to go ahead and get
her things together while I held the baby.

 

I had resumed my attempt at calming the baby
when her mother turned and said, "She can only
hear you if you put her ear to your chest, she's
also deaf."

 

Also?

 

I turned my head to stare into this beautiful little
girls eyes, and saw... nothing... no response...
no reaction. This frail, frightened child was blind
and deaf, her only window to the world was
through touch.

 

I stroked her cheek and was given a hopeful
smile through her tears, I tickled her under the
chin, she giggled and placed her head on my
shoulder and sighed. My heart was broken as
could only think of my own two and a-half-year
old daughter, Christina. I thought of how often
she fell asleep to my wife and I singing to her
or how often I catch her looking out of the corner
of her eye at me and laughing when I wink or
make a face. Would she ever know the joy and
love in her home if she couldn't see or hear it?

 

Could I show her how much she means in my
life just by touch alone? How often had I said "I
love you, Good night" without a hug or a kiss?
We all know how important touching can be, we
all know the peace that settles into your heart
after a warm hug, but could any of us convey
complex emotions like sadness, joy, sympathy
or love through touch alone?

 

Did this little girl know that I was a stranger,
someone she had never been near before?
Did she even have a concept of different people
at all? Could she tell her mother apart from
any other woman? And then all these questions
where answered in one quick second. Her
mother took her from me and nuzzled her neck
and hugged her.

 

The look on that child's face answered all and
then some. Of course she could.

 

I took my seat and tried my best not to cry in the
hallway of my office. I pray that this mother can
somehow get through to her little girl over the
only bridge available, and I pray that I will never
have to try.

 

I do know one thing though -- I'm going home
tonight and practice.

 

"A BROTHER'S SONG"

 

    

 

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.

 

They found out that the new baby was going be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in his mommy's tummy. He was building a bond of love with the baby before he even met her.

 

The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, and in time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every three, then every minute.

 

But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally, after a long struggle, Michael's little sister was born.

 

But she was in very serious condition. With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee.

 

The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatric specialist told the parents, "There is little hope. Be prepared for the worst."

 

Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. The had fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby, but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral.

 

Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. "I want to sing to her," he said.

 

After two weeks in intensive care, it looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over. Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are rarely allowed in Intensive Care.

 

Karen made up her mind. She decided to take Michael whether they liked it or not. If he didn't see his sister right then, he may never see her alive. She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU.

 

He looked like a walking laundry basket. The head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, "Get that kid out of here now. No children are allowed."

 

The mother instinct rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse's face, her lips a tight line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister," she stated firmly.

 

Then Karen towed Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing. In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray."

 

Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond. Her pulse rate began to calm down and become steady. "Keep on singing, Michael," encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes.

 

"You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away." As Michael sang to his sister, the baby's ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten's purr.

 

"Keep on singing, sweetheart," whispered his mother.

 

"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..." Michael's little sister began to relax as rest; healing rest; seemed to sweep over her.

 

"Keep on singing, Michael." Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed with wonder.

 

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't take my sunshine away..."

 

The next, day, the very next day, the little girl was well enough to go home. The medical staff called it a miracle.

 

 

Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara

 

  

 

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