Drama in the Delivery Room – Part I ended with the clock ticking as Dr. Loomis struggled with a decision he faced – to abort a pitifully handicapped baby girl or to deliver the complete breech baby. He had motioned for the nurse to give him a warm sterile towel. Part II begins:
“I slipped my hand beneath the towel to feel the pulsations of the baby’s cord, a certain index of its condition. Two or three minutes more would be enough. So that I might seem to be doing something, I drew the baby down a little lower to “split out” the arms, the usual next step, and as I did so the little pink foot on the good side bobbed out from its protecting towel and pressed firmly against my slowly moving hand, the hand into whose keeping the safety of the mother and the baby had been entrusted. There was a sudden convulsive movement of the baby’s body, an actual feeling of strength and life and vigor.”
“It was too much. I couldn’t do it. I delivered the baby with her pitiful little leg. I told the family, and with a catch in my voice, I told the mother.”
“Every foreboding came true. The mother was in the hospital for several months. I heard of them from time to time. They had been to Rochester, to Chicago, and to Boston. Finally, I lost track of them altogether. As the years went on, I blamed myself bitterly for not having had the strength to yield to my temptation.”
“Through the many years that I have been at this hospital, there has developed a pretty custom of staging an elaborate Christmas party each year for the employees, the nurses, and the doctors on staff.”
“The tree on one side of the stage had been sprayed with silver paint and was hung with scores of gleaming silver ornaments and tinsel, without a trace of color anywhere and with no lights hung upon the tree itself. It shown but faintly in the dimly lighted auditorium.”
“Every doctor who could possibly be there was in his seat. The first rows were reserved for the nurses.”
“A procession of 20 nurses in their uniforms, each holding high a lighted candle, entered from the back of the auditorium singing softly to the familiar strains of ‘Silent Night.’ And then a great blue floodlight at the back was turned on very slowly, gradually covering the tree with increasing splendor: brighter and brighter until every ornament was almost a flame.”
“On the opposite side of the stage, a curtain was slowly dawn and we saw three lovely young musicians, all in shimmering evening gowns. They played softly in unison with the organ – a harp, a cello, and a violin.”
“I have always liked the harp, and I love to watch the grace of a skillful player. I was especially fascinated by this young harpist. She played extraordinarily well as if she loved it. Her slender fingers flickered across the strings, and as the nurses sang, her face, made beautiful by a mass of auburn hair, was upturned as if the world in that moment was a wonderful and holy place.”
“After the short program ended, I sat there alone. Then, a woman I did not know came running down the aisle. She came to me with arms outstretched.”
“‘Oh, you saw her!’ she cried. ‘You must have recognized your baby. That was my daughter who played the harp – and I saw you watching her. Don’t you remember the little girl who was born with only one good leg 17 years ago? We tried everything else first, but now she has a whole artificial leg on that side – but you would never know it, would you? She can walk, she can swim, and she can almost dance.’”
“‘But, best of all, through all those years when she could not do those things, she learned to use her hands so wonderfully. She is going to be one of the world’s great harpists. She is my whole life, and now she is so happy…and here she is!’”
“As we spokes, this sweet young girl quietly approached us, her eyes glowing, and now she stood beside me.”
“‘This is your first doctor,’ her mother said. Her voice trembled. I could see her literally swept back in time, as I was, through all the years of heartache to the day when I told her what she had to face. ‘He was the first one to tell me about you. He brought you to me.’”
“Impulsively, I took the young girl in my arms. Across her warm young shoulder, I saw the creeping clock of the delivery room 17 years before. I lived again those awful moments when her life was in my hand, when I had decided on deliberate infanticide. I held her away from me and looked at her.”
“You will never know, nor will anyone else in all the world, just what tonight has meant to me. Go back to your harp for moment, please, and play ‘Silent Night’ for me alone. I have a load on my shoulders that no one has ever seen, a load that only you can take away.”
“Her mother sat beside me as her daughter played. Perhaps she knew what was in my mind. As the last strains of ‘Silent Night’ faded again, I think I found the answer, and the comfort, I had waited for so long.”
“What an amazing story that speaks to God’s intimate plan for every life that He creates! Dr. Loomis was divinely awakened to the sacredness of human life before it was too late, and this beautiful young woman was afforded a chance to live. As Christians who know the truth – that every life is made in God’s holy image, and therefore has eternal value, how can we not be a voice for the voiceless? How can we not devote our lives to saving these precious children” Dr. James Dobson
BONUS: Listen to this beautiful song by Keith and Kristyn Getty – “I Am Not My Own.” It brings this week’s blog full circle! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxCb6l3jkis