The baby came to us from another hospital with multi-layered complications since her premature birth. Her dad was absent, and her mom had two and a half strikes working against her in life. The other hospital had reached its limit in what they could do for the baby, so they sent the baby to us. One final hail mary.

“The mom is difficult. She blames us for her baby’s failure to improve. She’s yelled at all the doctors about how they don’t know what they’re doing, and tells all the nurses they are incompetent.” 

The mention of the baby and the mom was often followed by a weary sigh amongst staff. To have our efforts of care met with anger and accusation was demoralizing, and at the center of all the drama, lingered a very sick child for whom the writing was on the wall. 

On this particular morning, the blood pressures were too low, and the amount of carbon dioxide the baby’s ailing lungs were retaining was too high. Mom sat tensely while the team worked to stabilize the child. 

The attending physician approached mom. 

“I’d like to give you an update.” 

“None of you know what you are doing! You don’t know how to take care of babies.”

How would this physician guide this conversation? Previous iterations had only gone in circles of frustration and disconnection.

It’s a different kind of expertise. To be able to quietly hold one’s own self-respect in the face of spewing accusations, to maintain compassion for what lies deep behind the anger, to resist defensiveness and hold calmly to the current matters at hand, while walking the delicate emotional tightrope with every word choice.

No physician’s medical expertise could save the child that day.

But this physician’s emotional intelligence saved the mom, as he brought her off the edge of the cliff of rage, and led her to a softer place where she could finally just grieve. Her accusations simmered down, as she was finally able to understand that this was simply about a tragically sick child, and not an inept healthcare team. She was able to receive the bittersweet freedom of knowing that ceasing her harsh, relentless demands for a miracle would not make her a failure as a mother. 

This physician’s expertise ushered in a different kind of healing. Angry walls finally came down, allowing staff to come around mom and carry her more gently.

In turn, mom’s yelling quieted, and she was able to carry her baby through her final, peaceful breaths. A heart, both broken and healed.