We’d never talked. She only knew I was one of the other nurses in the ICU. I knew she was the mom of the kid everyone was concerned about.

She was leaning on a countertop, motionless and alone, while the whole medical team was in motion in her child’s room.

I approached her, and lightly touched her back.

She looked at me, her eyes full of questions and disorientation and also knowing.

“I’m just…processing.”

“You’ve had such a hard morning,” I said.

“He’s only 14.”

“It’s not fair.”

She looked at me, and then dropped her eyes in agreement.

“His dad and I, we haven’t updated any friends or family with all the twists and turns. We don’t want them to be frozen, like we are frozen.

So we just keep the details between the two of us.”

Her husband walked over to us, and looked at me with the slightest hint of curiosity as to who this stranger was, that his wife was talking to.

I nodded to acknowledge him.

She told me, “We’re going to step out and get some fresh air.”

I nodded.

She took a hesitant step toward me, and opened her arms. I moved forward and hugged her. She leaned in and trembled.

I held her closer, and for just a moment, I felt her muscles relax, and unfreeze.

“Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

I was reluctant to let her go. Who will help them become unfrozen?

I felt an aching gratitude for this incredible privilege of being a nurse. Stories beg to be told. It is a privilege to be allowed into these stories.