Robin took care of me and my son, a tiny 16-week gestation whom I had miscarried and delivered earlier that morning. My first memory of her was hearing her receiving report from the nurses in the PACU as I was coming out of anesthesia after a D & C to remove retained parts of my placenta. The nurses probably didn’t realize I could hear them talking. I was just waking up, and I couldn’t quite open my eyes yet. The words coming out of Robin’s mouth were pure compassion for me and my situation. I felt so seen and cared for before her official “care shift” had even begun.

Robin cared so hard that day; I was especially impacted by the care she showed my son. She spoke and cared for him like all the babies she must take care of, never ceasing to pour out praise over his tiny features and talking to him as if he were alive. This was just what my mama's heart needed to hear in those moments. My son was precious and cute, even if he looked very different from a full-term newborn. The care she gave that day taught me that my son’s life was worth honoring, even if it was so very short. Robin did all the things for my tiny baby. Gifts and mementos kept coming to be able to take home and remember him by. She swaddled, photographed, weighed, measured, finger and handprinted him like all the other babies, just extra delicately. I treasure those very tiny hands and footprints she so perfectly obtained.

I remember being afraid of how my son’s remains would be treated. As a nurse caring for adults, after death, we place them naked in a smelly plastic body bag. I was afraid to ask, to be honest, what do they do with the little babies? Then Robin showed us the “case” for our son and explained, “No, these babies don’t get put in a bag or a bucket. It was a beautiful, lidded box of handmade paper, draped with satiny fabric inside and a ribbon to tie and close it. We were able to lovingly place our son inside, swaddled in his own blanket and matching hat that fit him. I was so touched by this, and it spoke volumes to me about how the hospital and staff also viewed these tiny lives, lost too soon.

Also of note was the “mom talk” Robin gave me when she heard of my plans to go back to work in less than a week. I didn’t realize it then, but it was much too soon for a post-partum bereaved mother. I remember her saying “no, you’re not” and “you will take at least two weeks off work”. Robin’s “talk” gave me the permission I needed to allow myself to take the necessary time away from work to grieve and begin to heal physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Robin, I will never forget the care you showed my sweet son and me. His middle name means “king”, and you truly treated him like one that day. Thank you a million times over.