God's Grace

Heart

But for the grace of God, go I.

"Benjamin, look at him. Isn't there anything I can do?"
Benjamin, looks down on a newborn in an incubator. "You know what you can do, it's what we all have to do."
"It's so unfair, I did all I was asked! I built as well as I could! What is wrong with the boss, if he plays such cruel tricks on me?" Bald anger creasing the imaculate face.
"Stephen, you don't really believe that, do you?"
Stephen calms himself and looks at the utilitarian, sanitized floor, as if he could move it with his will, "Of course not!" Tears well in his eyes, falling to the baby's glass enclosure. "I did everything right! I checked and double-checked everything. I gave him the best I could!"
"The boss knows that, Stephen. He does what he has to. This was what he needed. It's not for you to question why."
Rounding on Benjamin, Stephen clenches both fists, and looks him in the eye, with sparks of flame visible in the hurt expression. "It is for me to question! I spent ages on this one. The training, the suffering, the study, the work! How could he?!"
Benjamin turns back to the baby, and leaning down, through the glass, places a kiss on the infant struggling for life. "He will live. There is no more you can ask of him. You worked well, and hard."
"When I think of all the failures I had, all the missed starts, all the rejections! I finally got this one right! One! Only one! Correct after all these years!" As Stephan raises his voice, the infant starts to cry, a loud bawling wail that brings a nurse to him quickly.
The nurse, bedecked in sanitized smock, gloves, facemask, and hat, opens the lid that encloses the infant like a sarcophagus. As she raises the squirming infant to her chest, the infant begins to tire and relax in the reassuring grip. The infant, 1.8 pounds, is small enough to fit in the caretaker's hand. The nurse is careful of protecting the head and limbs of the very weak baby.
As Stephan leans over the baby, looking down at its perfectly formed face, a flood of fresh tears land on the baby's forehead and face. The nurse gently wipes away the water, and carries the baby about the room, singing and laughing with the baby. The baby is quiet now, but the nurse carries him for a long while, not laying him down, just lightly dancing and singing.
No one talks. The room is silent. All eyes are on the baby, whose breathing becomes labored, the strength ebbing from his tiny chest. The nurse places the child back in the protection of the incubator, and closes the lid. The child is asleep.
Stephan, "How long does he have?" he asked, not daring to take his eyes from the child, lest he slip away.
Benjamin leans close to Stephan and says, "He has a purpose. He will live that long."
"What is that?! A week? A month? A YEAR? What is an infant, with brain damage and a weak heart to do that is so important to him?!" Jabbing his finger in the air, as if accusing an unseen person.
"I will leave you now Stephan. Call me if you need me?" Benjamin turns to leave.
"I need you here Ben, don't leave. Not now! Please!" Stephan is haggard and rumpled, a mess of grieving and sorrow, holding on to the sleeve of Benjamin.
"All right, I will stay, just until the child eats. Then the work falls to you." Sorrow lines the creases of Benjamin's face. "You have your work cut out for you. Your first assignment will not be easy, but it falls to you to care for the child."
Looking with love, deep into the heart of the sleeping child. Stephan says, "I won't abandon him. You know I couldn't."
"I know Stephan, that is why you were chosen."
"I know. But couldn't He have waited, until the second, or the third. It wouldn't be as hard."
"It gets no easier, it never does."
The door opens, and in walks Janie Straw, chief of pediatrics at Sheehan Memorial Hospital. Taking the chart from beneath the infant's bed, she examines the information.
"Did he eat well?" Not bothering to look up from the charts, she addresses the nurse with indifference.
The nurse replies, "He took an ounce and a half, and didn't spit up any of it." looking at the doctor, praying to hear some hope in the chief physician's voice.
"I want to start him on some vitamin supplements. Maybe we can bring the body weight up if we can start feeding him the food he needs. When is he due to eat?"
"About 20 minutes."
"Take the feedings to every half hour, let's see if he can hold more. I will check back in an hour to see his progress. Anything, call me immediately, I want to know if he so much as burps."
The doctor replaces the charts, and leaves.
Stephan watches as the little chest of the child slightly rises and falls.