NICU

...the skin just veils the soul
for I have seen
the face of love
the grace of God
the face of love

Jewel Kilcher



When we toured St. Mary's, maybe it was February or March, the nurse took us by the little neonatal intensive care unit there, just a tiny room by hospital standards, not much bigger than a living room.

"Hopefully, you won't need that," she said.

Of course, we did. And I'm glad it was there. Thank God for the all the great advances in neonatal intensive care. And I'm especially grateful to be in Portland right now. There is definitely some higher power at work here. When Dr. Kirby grabbed Nanette's little bed on the 11th of April and wheeled it at light speed toward the elevator, she called over her shoulder, "Where do you want to go, Portland, Seattle or Spokane?"

"Portland," I said. I didn't even have to think about it.

Dr. Kirby did her residence at OHSU, so she knew Portland. She knew that OHSU had a special team for neonatal transport, and she knew that Emanuel had the ECMO unit and specialists in CDH. There's never been any question that we ended up in exactly the right place. I think about that every time I drive here to put my family back together. Home is where JoAnn and Nanette are.

The kids and I rolled in at about one yesterday afternoon with Gordon hitching a ride. Gordon and Josie had some catching up to do, so JoAnn and I took the kids to Bullwinkles last night for dinner and games. Carter had such a good time playing video games that he didn't want to leave.

"We have to go home," JoAnn said.

Home. She means the Ronald McDonald House, but no one even questions that. Like I said, wherever JoAnn is, that's home to us. A house is just a box. It's the gift inside that counts.

JoAnn and I met here, in Portland, at the airport. We were both part of a small delegation sent to welcome a contingent of Japanese business people. That was back in the days when you could actually get into the terminal without a boarding pass. You could meet people right at the gate. Remember that? I arrived a bit early so I wandered into the lounge to kill some time. Jason Tanne sat there in a corner booth with this gorgeous woman. I pulled up a chair, but they rattled on to each other in Japanese. Jason smiled and nodded at me, but I'm ashamed to admit that I couldn't take my eyes off his companion. Long, blonde hair that shimmered in the dim light. Blue eyes like the sky. And when she spoke, even though I couldn't understand a single word, her voice enthralled me. If you ever get a chance, prod JoAnn to say something in Nihon-go. It still sends a warm wave up and down my spine when I hear her do that (not that I get much of a chance anymore - there's not a lot of call for it in Walla Walla.)

I worked at Lewis & Clark College in Portland, JoAnn worked for a high-tech firm in Vancouver. Our first apartment together on Hayden Island overlooked the Columbia River. In the winter, we watched the Christmas ships from our deck. In the summer, we watched the Ft. Vancouver fireworks explode right above our heads. On Sunday mornings we would ride our motorcycles to Starbucks on 23rd and we would sit outside and watch the people go by. We went to school here (a lot of school), we walked Hawthorne and Broadway, we bought our first home in Vancouver on Algona Drive, went to parks and plays and we got married on Mt. Hood at Timberline Lodge, out on the back patio with the mountain looming above us.

No wonder it feels like home here.

Katie was born in Portland, at Providence Medical Center over near the Hollywood district. When we toured Providence while JoAnn was pregnant with Katie, they mentioned the NICU at Emanuel. Carter was born here, at Emanuel. We toured Labor and Delivery back then, almost five years ago, and I still remember going past the NICU and thinking, "God, I hope I never have to go in there."

Last week, as I left the NICU, I had to slip through a tour group. Expectant mom's holding their tummies, the father's standing beside them, but always slightly behind too, with a supporting hand touching their wife.

"This is the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit," the nurse said.

I could see the moms to be and the dads to be staring blankly at me, trying not to think about this ragged man with the tired eyes that bowed his head as he ducked past, trying not to think the thought we all hold at that moment, when someone first shows you the NICU and says those words.

"Hopefully, you won't need that."

I could see it in their faces, the "God, I hope we never need that."

All I could think was, "If you ever do, you'll thank God it's here."