Suffer the little children to come unto me

Summer continued a pace and with it came a little lad on our PICU. He was 12 years old. He had a very big operation and lived somewhere in the Home Counties but had come because of UHL children’s surgery specialism. I had been chatting to his mum for a while about all sorts of things and I discovered that this young boy liked motorbikes. I started chatting to him about the various bikes I had ridden over the years.

Before I left I asked if there was anything that I could do. Mum said no but thanks for the chat, the young lad said there was something. I told him to spit it out, but he was a bit reluctant. In the end he said the one thing that he wanted was to be able to talk to his dad on the phone. I was slightly perplexed as to why this was a problem. Then he told me that his dad was in prison. I said I would do my best to see what I could arrange but no promises.

I phoned the prison and spoke to the chaplain there. He told me that he was aware of the situation but without external verification they had no been able to do anything about it. As I had phoned that was all the confirmation they needed. They then were able to get the boys dad and he had several chats on the phone despite the expense of patientline. The little lad was made up. He was so pleased to have spoken to his dad. He astounded the medical staff with the speed of his recovery. I’m sure some of that was down to him being content and feeling listened to and valued.

A few weeks later I got a card from this young man. In it he wrote:

“Thank you for your help so I was able to speak to my Dad at Elmley prison. Keep enjoying your bike. I hope to ride my mini moto very soon”

It’s so important, as far as I’m concerned, to be approachable so that people feel they can ask you anything and that you won’t sit in judgement over them.

Around this time I also got to meet a family whose premature baby was in NICU. This family had already had two other premature babies. One had lived and one had died.

I gradually got to know the family better and was able to support them through the roller coaster ride of the ups and downs that their baby son was taking them on. This family had no faith or religious affinities but I was able to support them despite our differences.

At one point it looked like they had turned the corner. The baby had moved further down the unit to the area where there is less intensive care and things were looking up. Then the baby worsened and started to go downhill again.

One very hot evening just as I was preparing to go home I came around the corner and literally bumped into the parents. They were extremely upset. I brought them into the office. Over a cuppa they told me that there was no hope for their now 4 month old baby. It had been decided to withdraw treatment. They had come away from the unit to try and get themselves together and to wait for their daughter to arrive with her grandparents.

One of the things about dealing with a religious family is that it gives room and a framework for a ritual. When dealing with a non-religious family you have to create your own ritual. Rituals are quite important to mark endings. I encouraged these parents to think about what they wanted to do or say to honour their son and wish him well in his death. They decided to think about it and go for a walk while they were waiting. At the door the mum asked me if it was right to bring their 4 year old in and let her be part of what was going on. I said I thought it was really important and that she had been visiting him and was looking forward to having a baby brother at home. She needed to be allowed to say goodbye. At this point the mum started crying again. I hugged her and she just sobbed, then her knees buckled and she sank to the floor. I sank to the floor and continued to hold her. She just kept crying out “I can’t do this again, I just can’t do this again” When I pressed her as to what she couldn’t do again she said she just couldn’t hold another baby while he died, that she had done that once before and she couldn’t go through that again. The dad also said he couldn’t do it. I was still holding her and trying to reassure her and she said to me “ You give such good hugs. Will you cuddle my baby while he dies?”

Inwardly I gulped, but outwardly I reassured these parents that I would do anything that they wanted that they thought would be helpful.

I went to the unit when all the family had arrived. I encouraged all of them to say their own individual goodbyes as well as a joint family goodbye. I encouraged them to tell the baby what they were going to miss about what they had wanted to do with him. I then stepped behind the curtains and allowed mum and dad to spend some private time with the baby. During that time I hugged a few of the nurses who were finding it all very sad, as they had nursed this little boy for four months, as well as the doctors who were present. After a while Mum came out and she left and went to the relatives room. Dad then held the baby as they started to withdraw and then when he couldn’t take it anymore he handed the baby to me.

I looked at this tiny baby who was the most precious thing to his parents and I thought about the amazing trust that this couple had put in me. I sang to him and gentle rocked him while he slipped peacefully from this world. What an amazing privilege!

What did I learn from all that? I learned that chaplaincy is a complex role. When I came out from behind the screens to give the parents some private time I wasn’t able to take a breather because my attention was then on the staff of the unit who were finding the situation tough. I also learned the importance of being around and being part of popular culture. My conversations with parents inevitably start with chats about “Big Brother” or the football or Eastenders, or Harry Potter or the Da Vinci Code. These are not necessarily things, except the football, that would have been part of my life before. They have value though. As I build a relationship based on these chats people begin to see me as a person. The clerical collar stops being a barrier. From there the relationship can deepen if necessary and I’m not a stranger who comes in and says a few prayers and goes in their hour of need.

I also learned the importance of looking after myself and having good and regular supervision. It was an immense privilege to be asked to hold this little baby and an enormous position of trust, but it wasn’t without its cost to me. I needed to go home from the hospital and be very gentle with myself and begin the task of processing the experience.