Our 7th child was born at 4:27am at our home in Rockcastle County, after a healthy, normal pregnancy, yet a slow, difficult labor. The moment my son was born, it was obvious something was terribly wrong. His APGAR score of 1 attested to that, only improving to 5. By God’s Grace, our licensed midwife was finally able to resuscitate him with CPR, mouth-to-mouth, and the oxygen breathing bag, while we called 911.

The midwife hoped they would send a chopper to transport him immediately to Lexington, but the request was denied three times due to fog, and a regular ambulance was sent, with instructions to wait at our nearest hospital until the baby buggy from UK arrived. After waiting an hour for the ambulance to show up, once they got my son to Rockcastle Regional, we waited with no information from anyone as they seemed to flounder and ask each other what they should do, with not one person answering our questions or letting us know what was going on.

The baby buggy nurses arrived two hours later, quickly and efficiently getting my son stable, on the ventilator, and prepared for the drive to UK. Unfortunately, unbelievably, due to his type 4 vein of Galen malformation, his heart condition, and his extremely low oxygen for so long, my son died the next day in my husband’s arms. In the horror of those 20 hours for us, there was no one more helpful, more sincere, or more compassionate than my son's night nurse, Jetta. To say she went above and beyond is an extreme understatement, or else we would have at least one other person to point to in the short time we had with my son, who made as big an impact on us, and on what little time we had with him, as Jetta did.

It's difficult to convey what she did for us and meant to us in our nightmare. We were just getting ready to meet with the doctors as her shift started, and after we knew there was no hope of a positive outcome, she stepped in to help us get comfortable and ready to hold him for the first time in 15 hours. We never felt as if she was just doing her job, going through the same motions anyone else in her position does – the way she acted as if she was doing something important, something meaningful, something sacred, made us comfortable. Even in that sterile hospital environment, completely overwhelmed when we were so unfamiliar with all the unknown machines, tangled cords, startling noises, and scariness, knowing he was going to die any second.

Jetta at one point asked if we needed anything, as many others did that day, and just as we told anyone else who asked, we said we were fine – truth be told we were so shell-shocked after having had so much thrown at us in so short a time, not only the delivery and my son's complications but the concern for our 6 other children, ages 1-13, whom we’d never left in their lives, or our dairy cows who needed milked – imagine sitting there helpless with your newborn, with no family near, knowing your other children were scared out of their wits and the cows you rely on for your limited income in jeopardy because they couldn’t handle going unattended – my son's torment was enough, and with everything else, especially so soon after a long labor and horrific delivery, we weren’t able to process any more, or think for a minute about ourselves. So Jetta did.

She couldn’t have known we hadn’t eaten all day, but she actually called for food trays for us, and in finding out the kitchen was closed, and they wouldn’t send anything up, she went down herself, returning with a variety of drinks and snacks that helped keep us going, even though we didn’t realize how badly we needed it. It was that kind of thoughtfulness that was just her way during our entire ordeal. I have had a history of fibroids, transfusions, and slow recoveries after delivery, none of which Jetta could have known, but as a mother and as a kind, rational person, she knew instinctively I had just given birth, and had to take a minute to worry about my own self.

There just hadn’t been time to think about anything but what was happening to or going to happen to my son. She wasn’t my nurse; she was my son's, yet she insisted on pushing me to the bathroom in the wheelchair and waited more patiently than I could have dreamed while I tried to clean myself up and take care of things before going back to my son, breathing his last. I have to assume that second-guessing yourself and everything that just happened is normal in such a sudden, traumatic, devastating situation, yet Jetta made us feel more confident, comforted, and comfortable in our tragedy than I ever could have believed.

She somehow made how fast everything happened manageable and not so overwhelming. She listened, she cared, and it truly felt as if she were personally not only sorry for my son and for us, as well as our other children, but also that she wanted to give us as much real, quality care and time as we could have with him. It wasn’t always what she did, but how she did it – sincerely, empathetically, gently, patiently – as if my son mattered, as if we mattered, and as if she wanted to make what time we had as special and memorable as possible, whether helping wash him, making suggestions, listening, or making his handprints and imprints.

I can compare her manner to every medical person we met or dealt with at two hospitals, including my own midwife, and none came close to supporting us and making us feel we weren’t alone as Jetta did. I can say some of the other staff were kind – but in comparing Jetta to everyone else, she stands out the most when I remember my worst moment in the NICU. Jetta had set me up in the chair with pillows everywhere so he and I would be as comfortable as possible, and had even helped me wash his hair and gently remove all the stickiness from the tape across his poor face. It was terribly difficult to get all that off, even with Jetta’s help, and only with the use of one arm, as I held him with my other.

No matter how long I took, Jetta wasn’t hurried, and she didn’t hurry me, or act as if this was an effort in futility. Everything about Jetta said this is important, this is meaningful, this needs to take as long as they need, and I will respect them in their loss and what little time they have with their baby. Jetta offered to personally wheel me out to our car and waited with me while my husband went to the parking garage, hugging us both and putting me in the best frame of mind possible as we drove away after saying goodbye to the baby we were supposed to be taking home.