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Looking for a Cause? Help a Child.
It's the babies who make me cry. Even now, 25 years after my own newborn was at Children's National Medical Center, I can't see those tiny babies in incubators, hooked up to those machines, tubes coming out of every part of their bodies, without breaking down.
I went to Children's last week to see the new wing, an amazing place, years in the planning, that incorporated all of the ideas and suggestions that I and so many parents had contributed out of our experiences there.
I'm always determined to hold it together when I go there. I don't think it's a good idea to have a member of the board wandering up and down the halls weeping. And yet, last week, when I visited again and saw those children, their chests heaving slightly, struggling to breath, their hands curled up into little fists, their heads covered with miniature ski caps and even some with tiny sunglasses to keep the lights out of their eyes, I could barely contain myself. It's even harder when the parents are there. You see them hanging over the cribs, desperately trying to make some kind of physical contact with these precious creatures, the anxiety, fear and pain etched on their faces. They stare nervously at the heart monitor, jumping every time it emits a strange beep, hoping that it isn't a bad sign.
I know. I've been there. When my son, my only child, was born he had a leak in his heart. Eight weeks later he went into heart failure. For the next two months they tried to keep him alive and finally performed open heart surgery when it looked as if that were the only option. We had called experts from all over the country for advice. Stay where you are, they all advised. It's the best place you can possibly be. And so we did. For two months I lived in Children's hospital in Quinn's room with a bed and bath provided for all of the parents.
I never left him alone except for meals when my mother would come to watch over him. The night before his surgery he wasn't allowed to eat after midnight. I had been nursing him and every time I tried to hold him he would cry out in hunger. It was excruciating, knowing he might not survive, letting him lie alone or be held by one of the nurses.
I don't think I have ever felt such desperation as when we took him down to the surgical suite the next morning and handed him over to the anesthesiologist. I completely fell apart, slumping to the floor in tears. We both knew he had about a 50-50 chance of making it. My husband Ben tried to cheer me up. "Just think," he said, "now he'll never have to go to war."
Happily, after an eight-hour surgery, Quinn survived and is now a happy, healthy and thriving 25-year-old. But it has been a long haul. He was beset by so many medical problems and had so many difficult kinds of surgery over the next 16 years that the two of us practically lived at Children's Hospital.
What would we have done without it? I can't begin to imagine. The exceptional care and caring, the devotion, excellence and expertise of the medical staff, and the brilliant approach to taking care of the whole family, not just the child, were unique. Despite the pain and the despair and the fear I felt during all of those years, I always had the feeling that not just Quinn but my husband and I were also being cared for as well. It gave us an enormous sense of security.
We were the lucky ones. So many parents come from far away, from all over the country and all over the world to be cared for at Children's. So many disadvantaged children come from the region, taken care of despite their ability to pay.
There were single mothers who had other children and jobs who were unable to visit their children often. There were parents who had to move to Washington or divide their families so their children could be cared for here. Often, when my mother was at the hospital with me, I would go from room to room and just hold the babies or play with the children whose mothers couldn't be with them, for days or even weeks at a time.
The nurses were wonderful, understanding the need for a child to be touched and hugged and loved. There is a chapel there, too, a serene place where, though I was not a believer, I found a certain sense of peace in my most desperate hours.
Today, the hospital has grown considerably, with a research center and new specialty ICUs, and a growing faculty of superstars from around the country. The rooms are fabulous, with views of the city and large beds and private baths and playrooms and internet hookups and family lounges and waiting rooms.
These things are all terrific. But the most important thing about Children's is the sense of security and safety you have from the minute you walk through those doors. For me it really is like being home.
We saw our share of tragedy there. Not everyone can be saved. The child of one of our closest friends died after undergoing surgery following a car accident. The child was admitted just as we were in the surgical suite for yet another time about to hand Quinn over to the doctors. There were children who were terribly burned, those who had cystic fibrosis, and many who had cancer. Children's is where you go, not just for prevention but for the most difficult cases as well.
For this reason, every time I went to Children's and even now I am conflicted. So many times I went feeling sorry for myself, only to see other children in so much worse shape than mine that I could never really pity myself. Once when Quinn was terribly sick I had lost all hope until I got into the elevator and saw this emaciated child with a shaved head, being pushed in a wheelchair with an IV tube attached. He was laughing. How could I feel sad for myself? I thought and pulled it together, determined to stay upbeat and optimistic.
Before I had Quinn, I had absolutely no interest in Children's Hospital. I know so many people today who aren't interested. They have been blessed with children and families with good health. You never know, though, when disaster will strike. When it could be your child, your brother or sister or friend or even you who gets sick or injured. It will be then that you will realize how important it is to have an institution like Children's National Medical Center.
_______________________
Service to others is an important part of most faith traditions and on the minds of many of us at this time of year. On Faith is working with Causes, a popular social networking community on Facebook, to bring attention to important charities. As a first step, Jon Meacham and I have selected Children's National Medical Center to be one of 20 charities that Causes is showcasing during the holiday season. We encourage those of you who are Facebook members to add the Causes "application" to your profile pages if you haven't already, and then choose to contribute to Children's National Medical Center or share it with your Facebook friends. If you are not a Facebook member, you can join by browsing. You can also learn more about opportunities to contribute to the Center at the Children's Hospital Foundation web site.
By
Sally Quinn
|
December 3, 2007; 9:09 AM ET
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Posted by: Claudia | December 8, 2007 6:09 PM
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Sally, Listening to you talk about Mitt Romney and his speech on religion. When you talk about the Mormon fatih you really need to call the Mormon church The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints instead of The Church of the Latter Day Saints. This is very dangerous to our faith because you exclude the name of Jesus Christ and we are already having to constantly remind people that we are Christians. Thank you Sam Morgan
Posted by: Sam Morgan | December 7, 2007 3:28 PM
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I regret the unkind obtuseness of the commenter who accused you of blurting out your personal experiences as though they have universal significance.
I counter: I care most for your support of universal values at the precise points of their tangency to your experiences of being on the precipice of NONvalue....
....when a teener opened a deathcamp album of photos her Army-general father had ordered his photographer to take--and she could no longer believe that God is good.
....when a mother listened to the wheels trundling her child to a 50-50-chance surgery, & was deeply told that every child is her child & that she was to shout it out, "Every child is your child!"
The flow of feeling from the teener through the mother to the moment of "cause" is well put in Albert Camus's line, "We must be kind, for God is not."
I'm waiting to hear what the mother, now, may have to say to the teener.
+++
We panelists thank you for your witness and for your enabling ours. / Since it was Ken Woodward who suggested that you add me to the stable of panelists, I'm forwarding this note to him.
Posted by: Willis E. Elliott | December 3, 2007 9:10 PM
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AGAIN...If Sally having fault then it her over compassionate nature, where the needs of others paramount. Her life much dedicated in making an better world, bringing much needed hope, to the many of lifes less fortunate, being vulnerable, as the child, dependent on caring adults, the media which can bring the much needed attention. Personal experience of sorrow, can be turned to a blessing, when, enabled to share the sorrow of others, as their prayers, with compassion, in a depth of understanding... .. .
Posted by: ananymous | December 3, 2007 5:32 PM
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Sally is simply overcome with her own goodness and can't wait to tout it.
Wouldn't this article (and cause)have been better served if there was ONE mention of ONE individual baby in it?
Instead we are graced with, yet another, Sally story illuminating Sally's compassion. (negligible as that is, considering it is her own son and 25 years ago at that.)
Even a cat has compassion for its own, and how does this inspire us to consider this charity?
How about a story on those who may be helped, and why we should help them?
Posted by: AGAIN | December 3, 2007 2:47 PM
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Through interactions in lifes there be periods, some souls dependent upon the other. Where human experience being at levels of developmemt where it unable that experiences clearly be transfered unto understanding. Thus, for individuals, bonds can be very stong, the feelings be very intense. With a wider brushstroke humanity one family.It for all reaching out an helping hand to brother as sister, more so unto the child. Whom at first with faltering steps, then enabled by the breath of life, sharing, very precious moments... .. .
Posted by: ananymous | December 3, 2007 2:42 PM
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Just a couple question: How much of what I give to a religious charity actually gets to those in need? Are all religions, limit it to Christian and Jewish ones actually charities? Is there another way I can help poor starving, sick, homeless etc people anywhere on earth with a donation to a NON religious charity?
Finally, are there any statistics, how much money collected by individual charities and religions actually gets to those for whom the donors expected their money to go to guide me?
Posted by: BGone | December 3, 2007 11:48 AM
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The comments to this entry are closed.
Sally's post would have to hit the hearts of any parents, who have experienced the pain of being in a children's hospital because of their own child's health issues. Speaking for myself, what I remember the most clearly, aside from my fear, was my guilt. As I begged God to help my son, I saw the other children who were far worse off. I felt very selfish as I begged God to take care of my child. Why should God in his infinite wisdom, answer my prayers? I thought to myself, "There but for the grace of God, go I." We all have our causes. I think what is important is that we do something about them. Whether it is helping children, adults or animals, we need to make a difference while we are on this earth.