An infants POV of his death, by his nurse
| } On Angel's Wings
I lie motionless in the arms of my mother, who is barely sixteen and so very unaware of how sick I am. It is so hard to do this thing they call breathing. Grandma was the one to dial 911. She knew when I closed my eyes and let the air go out, I was leaving this place.
My head hangs back, my arms flop, as my mother hands me to the lady with the uniform. The movement of fingers on my ribs makes me try to come back again.
I am so cold; can't someone make me warm?
I feel a thump, thump on my chest and then more air goes in. I start to gasp, as I look around one last time. This lady looks scared. She whispers, "Oh my God, I can't feel a pulse."
God, I know God... He is that nice man with lots of love and he smells like rain.
God, are you here? Am I coming back to you? My belly hurts, and it is all swollen.
Mommy is standing next to me with her mouth open, Grandma is crying. The police officer is asking, "What happened, when did the baby stop breathing?"
Mommy said, "He was fussy; so I fed him and laid him down so he would stop crying." Grandma yelled at her, "I told you, you have to sit the baby UP after you give him his tube feeding!"
The man with the lady who is breathing into me yells, "Stop! None of this is helping, we need to get him to the hospital now."
I hear the sound of sirens, red lights are flashing, as I become a rag doll again.
Grandma's voice in the distance is beckoning, "Come on sweetie, please, you can make it".
I am not sure what I am supposed to do; I only know that the coldness is going away.
I am above them now, looking down into this room.
Another lady is pressing on my chest, and blowing air in me, but I don't breath anymore. They are giving me needles, but I don't feel them anymore. The man in the white coat asks, "How long has he been coded?"
The first lady, with the uniform, tells him forty-five minutes. They all look so sad.
The man says, "We have to call it, it's been too long." All the people in the room look like they want to cry.
The sadder they look, the warmer I feel.
I smell the rain. I feel the warmth of it wash over me. It soothes my belly.
I am floating up, as Mommy and Grandma enter the room.
They are panicked yelling, "He must be baptized, we want him baptized now! Get a priest, do something!"
I wish they could feel the peace I have.
The lady that breathed for me last, brings me to them. She puts her arm around Grandma. Mommy falls back on the wall looking like she will throw up.
Grandma sees my face... it has a smile.
The lady says, "I am his nurse, would it be ok if we baptize him together?"
Grandma nods, "Yes."
They take me to the sink.
Grandma made the sign of the cross over my brow with the water and the lady says, "In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit I baptize you John Michael Smith."
Grandma cries, Mommy falls to the floor, but the lady smiles at me as she closed my eyes.
I think it's okay if I go now.
Grandma leaned over me, kissing my forehead, Go little baby... go home is heard as her teardrops fall on me. She sits down and rocks me in her arms, as my spirit leaves my body.
Grandma turns to the lady and asks, "Did you feel that?"
Grandma looks up to me as she speaks softly, "Go sweetie, go on the Angel's Wings."
I am a nurse and this is my version of an actual infant death I was blessed to be a part of. I say blessed, not in the sense that this was an enjoyable event, but blessed because I had the privilege of playing a purpose in the most private and sorrowful part of this short-lived life and the family that loved him. I had to write about this particular infant, as I truly saw peace come over his face.
I have changed the name of the infant, but from all accounts this is the way in which he left this earth. "On Angel's Wings" is the hope I have for all that I minister to in time of death. To the families, I wish faith and hope that the one they loved will move on to a better place. God Bless.