Christmas in the NICU

It's Christmas time in the city. Like the old classic carol, the tree is up in the foyer and garlands climb the stairwells, sprinkled with bells and golden ornaments and scarlet poinsettias. It's beautiful, despite the fact that outside the huge glass windows is a cold, wintry desert rather than a snowy landscape aglow. I miss the snow so much at Christmas time.

While the OR picks up speed into the New Year, each shift grows longer and faster than the previous. Minutes, hours, days blur by in a streak of blood stains, sterile gowns and bright lights. People shuffle with heads down, bellies hungry from missed meals, shoulders tired with the weight of so much illness and injury. It's easy to forget that outside the walls is a world of merriment, parades, hot chocolate and holiday gift shopping.

So this Christmas, as I am alone, it is hard to fight the melancholy of the season. But I don't want to let it slip by unobserved, either.

So to answer this, I decided to do what I always do when I am feeling alone and sad and forgotten- I focus on someone less fortunate. Like the orphans in Malawi, I have my own troupe of pediatric waifers desperate for some attention and holiday cheer. The NICU.

The idea came to me as my wonderful boss and CVOR manager was showing me recipes for holiday cookies. Would I like to spend an afternoon with her baking? It sounded like fun. But since I am now on a strict diet and all alone, it also sounded like it could trigger some holiday depression. With whom would I share my wondrous baking treats? Baking and home and family warmth all went hand in hand to my upbringing.

After agreeing, I laid awake that night wondering why I had said yes. What would I do with the cookies? It seemed silly to leave them all to her family and friends, when I had put in long hours and elbow grease and love.

Then the idea hit me - the family in the NICU. As dreary and cold as the hospital walls could be to me, who chose it as my home, I could hardly imagine how they must be to a family marooned in the specialty zones for Christmas. Especially the tiny, innocent little preemie babies, fighting bravely for life.

I would bake cookies for them.

The idea settled upon me and filled my heart with an instant flood of warmth and excitement. What holiday cheer this could bring!

My basket of Christmas treats had been shipped off to my boyfriend's family, and my box of gifts to my family far away across the ocean - but now I could turn my attention to a gift that would have no return expectation. A true gift, perfect for the holiday.

How many babies could there be? I imagined between 5-10. Surely no more than a dozen. But I was shocked when I got off the phone with the NICU senior nursing manager. This Christmas week we have 38 babies! That's almost half of a hundred!

I quickly reevaluated how many hundreds of cookies I would have to roll out to make boxes of a dozen cookies for each family. Somewhere over 500. I lost count in the math. It was crazy, for one little scrub to take on such a task.

But then again, it was quite perfect. I called my manager and told her I would be going to the wholesale market to get larger quantities of ingredients. This was going to be a week-long project, rather than a single afternoon, but I was so happy.

Christmas cookies for Christmas babies!

Maybe that's why they named me Noelle.