“It All Started With One Nurse. One Compassionate Human.”

-Shared by Generation O Community Member, SA.

Part of our special series for NICU Awareness Month 2025.

What a journey it has been.

I was working out of town helping to open a medical clinic.  I had not had contact with my biological daughter in a very long time. She was caught up in addiction and after almost ten years of it, I thought nothing could surprise me. I was wrong. I got a call telling me she had given birth to a baby. Mind you, she was 35 and this particular issue never crossed my mind. The baby was very sick. I distinctly remember a flash of rage and shock, then I made a vow that I would not, could not take this on. I was 55. 

So I did what I always do. I turned to work and told myself throughout the day that this wasn't my problem. 

Eventually the day ended and I decided to call the hospital just to check on them. I was told that since it was Covid lockdown, I could not enter the hospital. I went to dinner and drove around that horrible town that held so many terrible memories.  I called the hospital around 9 pm and got a very gruff nurse who said that while my daughter said I could have updates on the baby, there was no way they'd let me see him. He was in the NICU dealing with respiratory issues and withdrawals. Then the nurse hung up on me. Her disgust was palpable.  Me being me, I waited until shift change and called the NICU back. I got a different nurse and explained that I was the maternal grandmother and that I was leaving town the next day. I was truthful and said I just wanted to see him once.  To hold him and pray because I would not be seeing him again. This nurse paused and then he said he'd be down in a minute. 

He met me outside ( it was after midnight) and we talked. Then that nurse made a call that changed the trajectory of my life and that baby's life. He brought me in to the NICU. There was this tiny baby, all alone in an isolated room. Clearly in agony. As I looked at him, I thought back to how excited I was for my two (grown) children. How I'd protected them from the moment of conception. It flashed in my mind that nobody was cheering when Tallen was born. There was no skin-to-skin love. Nobody to ease his adjustment into this world.

He had no prenatal care. He was so uncomfortable. The nurse explained what they were doing for him. He asked me if I wanted to hold him. So me - this old woman, long past child bearing age - opened my shirt and set that tiny baby on my chest and he relaxed. His rigid arms weren't so rigid. That horrific scream drug-exposed babies are known for calmed into more of a heartbreaking meow. The nurse quickly got a bottle of formula and he took it. Then, that baby looked at me. His eyes were those of an old man who'd been through the worst this world has to offer. I knew in that moment that this tiny human was well and truly imprinted on my heart. I quickly learned about Finnegan scores and the wretched reality of what copious amounts of drugs and no prenatal care does to a baby. 21 days in the NICU.

It has now been five years. Five years of OT, PT, more early intervention than I knew existed. He fought hard those first years. We were exhausted.  Financially I was not prepared to raise a child but here we are. He is brilliant. He is articulate and understood. I have made it my mission in life to learn everything I can about opioid effects on children. I read and then I read some more. His fight is not over. 

Had that one nurse not broke and let me in, his journey would be so different. Our journey would be so different.  

We left that town, we left that state. Now he's in a small Midwest town. Farms to run around in. Tee-ball, soccer, fresh air and wholesome foods to nourish his once-frail body. 

It all started with one nurse. One compassionate human.