The Blue Baby

“Mrs. Mosher.”

The voice spoke softly, but not in a whisper, for there was urgency to be addressed.

“Mrs. Mosher.”

The woman sleeping in the hospital bed did not answer.  She did not wake.  She did not stir.

“Mrs. Mosher.  What religion do you want your baby to be baptized?”

Mrs. Mosher’s eyes snapped open, and she was wide awake from her drug-induced sleep.

“What’s the matter with my baby?” the mother demanded to know, in full awareness of the surroundings and her faculties.

The baby, the doctor explained, having been born six weeks premature, had incompletely formed lungs and could not breathe.  He was under the care of the entire maternity team and would be for the next crucial twenty-four hours, which he was not expected to survive.

Baby Boy Mosher was in the nursery with all the other babies, under careful supervision, as his Daddy watched him through the window.  Worried, the father stood and watched and waited.  The baby stopped breathing.  The baby turned blue.  A team of medical professionals ran in to help the newborn.  As they worked to keep the child alive, a nurse, spotting the baby’s father, walked with purpose to the observation window and pulled the curtain closed.  Behind the curtain, the father could see the shadows of the doctors working on his son.

Twice during the night, the baby turned blue, in exactly the same way, as his father looked on, terrified.

The first time I ever heard the story of The Blue Baby I was six.  My Mommy told me the story while showing me the baby picture, the first one ever made of The Blue Baby.

I was fascinated by the story of The Blue Baby… The baby that lived.

“You turned blue twice during that first night.  They did not expect you to live.  They were sure you were going to die.  But then you played a dirty trick on those doctors,” said My Mam.

“What did I do, Mommy?”

“You proved them wrong.”

“How did I do that, Mommy?”

“You lived”

Mama told me that story countless times over the years.  Time and again, Baby Stephen asked to hear the story of The Blue Baby, and time and again, Juana told Baby Stephen that story, right up until Baby Stephen was a fully grown adult.

Everyone has a center of strength.  For some people, it is their faith.  For some people, it is their patriotism.  For some people, it is their education.  From the beginning, my center of strength was my Mother.  And although I have taught myself how to be strong for myself and for my family, there, at the core, is still my Mother, giving strength, grit, guts, and the will to live to the man who was once The Blue Baby.