Grandchild #7

True story. Early this week, I sat down to write for this space. And I sat there. And sat there. Nothing came. I’ve been doing this thing for 35 years and it seemed I finally had writer’s block.


I finally wrote down “I have nothing” and walked away from the computer. A couple days later, I asked my wife for ideas. My biggest supporter, she is also my quickest (but gentlest) critic. If I’ve wrote about the same topic too many times, she will point that out.

It’s the second or third thing she reads when she sits down on Sunday morning to read The Daily Times. (I’m not sure what’s first.) Her suggestion—"duh, you have a new granddaughter.” The very next morning, I had two people ask me if I was going to write about that new granddaughter. So of course, that’s what I did.

This is grandchild number seven and is likely the last (barring a true miracle). She was premature, born at 34 weeks, weighing 3 pounds, 15 ounces. At the time of this writing, she is still in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) at East Tennessee Children’s Hospital.

A shameless plug for Children’s Hospital—those people are incredible. We had one previous grandchild born premature that spent time in the NICU there almost seven years ago. Back then it was a big ward, with all the babies in the same room.

At that time, we watched a building being built across the street, not knowing at the time what it was to be. As it turns out, it was the South Building for Children’s Hospital. It now houses the NICU.

Seven years ago, the staff was just as awesome, the care delivered just as stellar. But now they have the facility to match all that awesomeness. Every baby is housed in a private room with state-of-the-art equipment.

You have to experience it to appreciate what all that means. To have a wee baby, 2 or 3 pounds or so, small enough to almost fit in your palm fighting for their life but surrounded by the best of the best…it’s transformative.

It makes you realize how fragile and important life is. Just this week, we had funeral services for a 37 year old family member. Taken before his time, leaving two young children. If all this doesn’t serve as a life wake up call, you’re pretty oblivious.

This precious little granddaughter, who is doing great and may be home by today, will grow up surrounded by love and will likely never be hungry or wanting of any of life’s basics. The same can’t be said for too many others. In rooms in the NICU near hers are babies that are going through withdrawal, babies that might not make it. We can hear their constant cries in the hallway. It may be life’s saddest sound.

And just last week a child died in the PICU of Shaken Baby Syndrome. Think about all that. Adults that would shake a baby so hard that they died from it. A pregnant mom that couldn’t stay away from drugs and/or alcohol while carrying life’s most precious gift. Unbelievable.

As I held my newest this week, I promised her that I was going to be there for her. That I would guarantee her unconditional love and support for as long as I lived. That I would cuddle with her as long as I could and then hold her hand as long as she would let me.