My first time

So I got a new job. It is in my field of passion (medicine) but it is definitely out of my comfort zone. I now work for the Donor Network of Arizona as a tissue recovery technician. Essentially, I wait around for a call telling me to come into the office and then I head out with a team to recover skin, muscles, bones, veins or nerves from a person who has recently passed away.

My first case was hard. I imagine the first one is hard for everyone. But mine really resonated deeply within me. It was pediatric heart recovery case. We went to the hospital operating room and removed the heart from a deceased newborn. The whole procedure took about thirty minutes and then we left.

As I read over what I just wrote, it seems so sterile, so cold and removed. The truth is, I can't stop thinking about it. I can still see those tiny, lifeless eyes staring up to heaven. An almost happy expression frozen on its cherubic face, as if it died mid laugh. It almost looked alive, except for the eyes, I would have believed that. Its eyes had nothing behind them, they were empty and terrifying. I've never seen a dead baby before and I hope to never see one again. No one should ever have to see that. Encounters with babies should be happy memories. Mine haunts me.

I'm sure that one day, it will be just a sad memory. But for now, it is still fresh. I don't know why it torments me so. I had nothing to do with the death. I could not have stopped it nor could I have even prolonged it. The baby was not someone I knew and I am usually able to stay so detached from things. But I can't this time. Why is that? I pray for comfort and it is only when I am praying that I find solace. How I wish I could close my eyes and forget. But every time I close my eyes, I can picture that little baby lying on the cold steel of the surgical table and it still brings tears to my eyes.

I know that God has a plan, I think I just need to draw near to him for a while before I'm willing to listen to it.