To the nurses
“I believed that procuring in the United States Navy was the most unbelievable experience. I had ever had until I became a mom.” And then, with the arrival of my son Matthew, everything transformed once more.
My pregnancy stage was good and we were having a healthy baby with full hairs on his head we were so happy. What did no one anticipate? That hair was crimson. Absolutely red! Being an African American woman, it surprised everyone, myself included. The initial words I heard following 11 hours of labor were, “Oh my God.” Not reassuring until the nurse said, “He has RED hair!”
I urged her to wash him once more, certain it would deepen in color. After three washes, she grinned and remarked, “Mama, you have a tiny bit of ginger.” From that moment on, we’ve took attention wherever we travel. He’s incredibly stunning, and individuals are intrigued. However, not everyone is feeling.
I’ve been questioned whether I’m his nanny. I’ve meet individuals questioning whether he is adopted or albino. A woman at a pizza restaurant bluntly informed me that he couldn’t be mine. Someone else contacted the police at Walmart, believing I was abducting him. I needed to show I was his mother with his birth certificate in hand until a compassionate stranger intervened on my behalf. It was frightening.
The most severe time? When he returned home in tears after other kids said I wasn’t his real mom because I’m Black and don’t have red hair. For several days, he inquired of red-haired women whether they were his mother. My heart horrify. My eldest son proposed the most charming idea “How about we color our hair red like Matthew’s!” The happiness visible on his face when he remarked, “Now you resemble me,” was memorable.
I appreciate your help in rescuing me. Your understanding continue me, but it was your kindness that led me back to living. In my bleakest time, you allowed me to mourn and provided the courage to continue.
Grateful to the nurses who provided pillows for my husband and allowed him to sneak popsicles from the freezer because you recognized his grief as well. To the nurse who accompanied me to the ICU from Labor & Delivery—thank you for standing up for me when I was unable to. I’m unsure I would have lived to watch my daughter grow without your help.
I appreciate the nurse who taught me to fill my bra with ice packs when my milk arrived after my stillbirth. And I appreciate you for embracing me while I cried from the pain I couldn’t let go. To the ICU nurse who softly cleaned my face and tied my hair into a ponytail thank you. That simple action, neither a poke nor a prod, restored my sense of humanity.
I am grateful to the nurse who knelt beside me and gently asked, “Would you like to share about Dorothy?” Your compassion allowed me to speak her name openly, to recall her as someone tangible. To the nurse who cared for my baby, who ensured her hat stayed off her eyes, who arranged her hands softly thank you. That picture is everything to us.
Thank you to everyone who familiarized themselves with our names and hers prior to entering the room. Hearing Dorothy’s name mentioned gave us a sense of belonging.
Forever grateful,
A mother who will never forget you.
