Hannah and I work in the Neonatal ICU. It’s no secret that as NICU nurses, we grow attached to our patients and their families, especially when infants and their families have been with us for an extended stay of weeks or even months. 

The infant in this story spent many months with us and had quite the reputation – partly because of his extremely early gestation and tiny size, his habit of pulling out his own breathing tube, and he was such a cutie, and unfortunately, mostly because of how sick he was during his stay and how day after day he only seemed to get sicker. 

After months in our unit, this sweet baby was nearing the end of his life, and the physicians called his parents to come be at his bedside as they had hard discussions and even harder decisions. While his mom and dad were in his room mapping out the plan of care, his heart rate and oxygen levels dropped, and a CODE BLUE was called. Nurses came from every pod of every neighborhood to jump into action and keep this sweet little soul with us, but in the end, resuscitation was unsuccessful, and the heartbreak was unbearable.

Because of his fragility throughout his life, snuggle time by his parents was limited, and being held by extended family, such as aunts or grandparents, wasn’t an option. But as his heart rate slowed and he slipped away, he got all the snuggles he had missed those first few months. Mom and Dad, grandma, and aunties sat at his bedside holding and kissing his little face, whispering words of love while praying over him. For hours and hours they held and loved on him and soaked in the last moments. It was such a beautiful and intimate time for the family. But it wasn’t just the parents, grandparents and aunties that came to the hospital that evening when the doctors called and said the end was near, the family also brought their children, siblings and cousins to our patient.

Here is where Hannah enters our story. Because the CODE BLUE was called, Hannah came to the room where there were already plenty of nurses engaged in resuscitation efforts. But instead of standing outside the patient room waiting just in case more hands were needed or returning to her own pod assignment, Hannah saw a role that no one was filling and jumped into action. She took our patient’s siblings and cousins (ranging in age from toddler to pre-teen) and entertained them in our sibling playroom. She played games with them, gave them snacks, and kept them busy. She even made some phone calls to other departments to find the youngest toddler new clothes and diapers when he had a blowout. Hannah ensured that the children would not need to witness the trauma of a code and the death of their brother while also ensuring that the family could take all the time they needed to say goodbye. Hannah spent HOURS with those children, hours that the patient’s parents used to hold their son for the last time without worrying about anything or anyone else. Hannah was the ‘behind the scenes’ hero in this story, and I don’t think anyone even realized the huge role she played or the impact she made on the parents. She gave them the precious gift of time.

So I would like to recognize her for this and for all the wonderful things she does for our tiny patients and their families daily as well as the kindness and laughter she brings to her coworkers and her patients. It really made all the difference on this particular night.

Thanks, Hannah, for all you do! You deserve all the praise and accolades we can throw your way!