The most amazing thing.
January 9, 1996.
Poppy was her name.
An unusual name, so it stuck with me all these years.
She was a labor and delivery nurse that I was so blessed to have as my own on that one fateful day. Her quiet strength present all day, yet not interfering or hovering. Just there. Waiting with us.
Weaving in and out of the room as needed, me hardly noticing. I was too lost in myself and my fears to notice much of what she was doing.
Until the moment came when it was time to push, but I wasn’t ready yet. I asked her if I could wait just a little bit longer and she just looked at the doctor and answered, “Yes,” without even getting permission, just deciding for herself.
But finally it was time and she was there, quietly waiting with us, caring for me.
When the baby came, she took her quietly and wrapped her in a blanket and put her in my arms. And despite my hopes and prayers, it was as they said. She was already gone. Stillborn.
She let me hold her as long as I needed. Who knows if it was minutes or hours. All time stood still and all moments flowed together into one.
Then when the time came, she took her away.
Later I looked at Poppy and said that I had been hoping for a miracle. Hoping that they were wrong. Hoping that she would still be alive. She said that she had hoped and prayed for the same thing, for a miracle, but when she saw her she knew.
It meant the world to me that a perfect stranger was praying for a miracle, my miracle, hoping for the same thing that I was hoping for.
Several years later I tried to find Poppy to thank her, but the hospital HR director told me she had moved to Arizona. I wanted to tell her how much it meant to me what she did that day. How she shared my hope. So that she could know just how much her actions meant to me.
So I share with you what an amazing human being Poppy was.
If you’re out there somewhere, Poppy, thank you.
What was the most amazing thing anyone ever did for you?