Chevy

A lady I work closely with became a grandmother for the third time a few weeks back. The little man was born at 26 weeks. That's 14 weeks short of where one would like; it actually skips the entire third trimester. He weighed 1lb 6oz and was only 11 inches long. He spent exactly three weeks in an incubator until he was finally taken out for his parents to hold him for the first time. Sadly, it was would be the only time. His lungs collapsed and this was the last act of benevolence offered by the hospital staff.

I remember talking to my co-worker and the expression of deep concern she had when the expecting mother went in with some complications at week 25. She did not know what to expect; she had a lot of people telling her things and she didn't know what the answers were. I'm not sure there were any. Then a week later, under the guidance of physicians and complications becoming more complicated, Chevy was born.

The next day at work, there was a jolly lady across the cubical from me, stricken with bronchitis but still glowing. We had a long talk about everything and things seemed to be going quite well. She still hadn't seen him yet, because she was sick. Our boss who often gets a little dramatic, yelled, "What are you doing here? Go home and get rest so you can go see your little guy!" She reluctantly went to the doctor only to find out that the aforementioned "itis" had infected her and she did finally go home and get more rest.

The next week when she came back, we had another talk. She was finally well enough to see Chevy. So the proud grandparents made their first trip in to see the new family--actually a spot that lay vacant as the newly christened parents could only have a short list of visitors which extended no further than the grandparents on either side.

She told me about her experiences and they learned that Chevy gained an ounce and a half in weight which was very good news. Everything seemed fine with him and he was fighting through all that he had to. We started to talk about the experience of the whole thing. It’s strange to think of a baby that small. She said her other grandchild's doll was about the same size. It seemed so surreal. She talked about being allowed to put your hands into the incubator and that was it. She didn't want to because she didn't want to harm him, but she did. She talked about how aware he was, that they had to move his IV once because he was pulling on it. Then after they moved it, he just grasped like any other baby would react to something of comfort.

Every action and every word was delivered with a hint of hesitation, my responses mirrored. This was the first experience with such a thing for both of us. An entire conversation blanketed in misunderstanding, inexperience and curiosity. All the simplest things we often take for granted were slightly different but somehow made sense. While we tried to grasp the reality of the situation, the ambiance of the conversation was uplifting and full of optimism.

Another week goes by and many conversations. Chevy gains more weight and tops out at 1 pound 13 ounces. Things look really promising. Then without warning, Chevy finds himself in the hands of his parents for the first and last time.

Now I sit here finding myself extremely saddened. The only thing I can do is write and that doesn’t seem to serve any justice. I’m disappointed because I thought he was going to come through. I wanted him too, I still want him too. I’m disappointed that this amazing lady I work with and her family had to go through all this. I’m disappointed that life isn’t always fair.

I guess it is all still a little too fresh, I still don’t know quite what to say or to think. The entire time I couldn’t really grasp what was going on, and even now, all I can think is that I can’t imagine what the family is going through. I’d like to tell them that everything happens for a reason but right now that is not my belief. Instead, I can only offer what seems to be insignificant; my sincerest condolences go out to them.