Crying Babies

Imagine this. You've been asked to supervise a male infant in one of the pediatric wards. Upon entering his room, you are relieved by the fact that he is sleeping peacefully. It's almost the end of your shift and you welcome some tranquility at last. 

As you take a seat at a nearby chair, you can't help but notice the rhythmic rising and falling of the infant's chest. You remind yourself to look out for any abnormal patterns of breathing. The boy is resting on his stomach and you wonder why he hasn't fallen asleep on his back. You remember from your developmental psychology class that it is generally safer for infants to sleep on their backs with their face to the ceiling. He seems comfortable in his resting position so you don't bother to move him. At least his head is tilted sideways so that you can watch his face while he sleeps. 

After the fascination of scrutinizing the baby subsides, your mind starts to wander. You start to think about your plans for the afternoon, for the rest of the week, and ultimately for the rest of the summer. A TV is right beside you, but you know better than to turn it on. If a parent walked in, you wouldn't want to be caught doing anything other than supervising their precious child.   

Suddenly, the infant blinks. Is he waking up or just teasing you in his sleep? He blinks again and his eyes widen. He's awake! You haven't played with an infant in a while, but you are ready to at a moment's notice. 

He starts crying. Not surprising. He probably misses his mom or dad and feels threatened by this random stranger in the room. Predictable attachment response for an infant at this age. You try to use soothing words to calm the baby, but to no avail. 

Next, you try rolling him over on his back to facilitate more open communication. Your maneuvers are clumsy and sloppy. His crying gets worse. 

You try to give him a soother. It works temporarily, but he wants none of it after a few seconds. He redoubles his crying efforts.

Out of desperation, you try to distract him with some toys. He hardly pays attention to them. By now, his wailing hurts your ears and you are emotionally crushed by the tears rolling down his cheeks. Must be a pain response to something medical in nature. 

You attempt the last trick in your books - a cuddle. You haven't done one of these in a while so you're naturally hesitant to take him out of his bed. You note several cords and lines attached to his body, which complicates getting a firm hold on his limbs and torso. Forgetting to swathe him in blankets, lowering the guard on the bed, and giving him enough neck support are only a few mistakes you make while performing this intricate move. He cries more intensely to signify your failure to attend to his needs. Frustrated, you put him back down on the bed. 

Despite years working with children and being a regular volunteer on the pediatric ward, you feel a strong uneasiness about what to do next. Besides being unable to calm the baby, you are not even certain about why he is crying. 

Feeling helpless, you're about to give up when a nurse suddenly arrives. Remarkably calm, she provides words of encouragement, explains why the baby is crying, and thanks you for supervising the child. It's her turn to take over now. You feel undeserving of her appreciation. 

As you exit the room with a hanging sense of defeat, you wonder what you would do if the nurse didn't show up.