Don't it make my brown eyes blue

Last year I worked Christmas. As a nurse, you just accept that you will be unavailable every other holiday. Babies like to come 24-7. This year I have Christmas off, and that's a good thing because I'll be gone for the next two Christmases. Last year I worked from 2pm to 10pm on Christmas Eve, and then I came back from 6am to 2pm on Christmas day. I knew I wasn't going to be seeing my family at all, so that didn't really bother me. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but it didn't come too easily that night anyway. There were a few babies born that night, but my delivery was one that I will probably not ever forget. I can't legally say much, but the baby was born too early to be saved. I remember crying as it breathed slower and slower while I cleaned it off and wrapped it in warm blankets. I counted the heart rate every few minutes over the next hour. It was very peaceful. It died in it's mothers arms, wrapped in a blanket with little blue bears on it. And then I came back to work eight hours later and pretended I was happy that it was Christmas morning. I was working with three patients the night before, and so I saw the other two for a bit, then I handed over their care to another nurse as my other patient got more serious. They both saw me on Christmas morning, and both remarked with surprise that I was back so soon, and we laughed and talked about all the things their friends and family were planning to do so that they could be included in all the celebrating. I remember checking her cervix and crying when I felt how dilated she was. The tears started rolling down my face right then, and I tried to sound calm as I told her that the baby was going to come very soon. We all knew why I was crying. Then I called one of my favorite doctors at his house on Christmas Eve to tell him that everything we'd been trying to do over the last three weeks wasn't working, and could he please come to deliver this baby. And I asked the family if they were sure that they didn't want to attempt to resuscitate the infant, as it was always their right to try. They had conferenced with the teams of doctors working with them and knew the probable outcome at that gestational age. I still remember their names. They wanted their other kids to come and spend the night in their mom's hospital room. They wanted to bring all the presents and do Christmas morning around the little tree she had. Earlier that day, we'd told them to wait and see, because things weren't going too well. She did get to go home that night. They were all together on Christmas morning. And I was back at the hospital, saying Merry Christmas to my other two patients. One of them shared the crepes and fruit and fresh-squeezed OJ that her neighbor brought by. My parents managed to patch my little brother's Christmas Day missionary call through from Russia to the hospital. This year I've got a whole week off, and I'll be in Vegas with most of my family. We'll probably make cookies and go find people to deliver them to, along with a few Christmas carols. I think that, of all our family traditions, that is my favorite one. We'll decorate our tree with all our old homemade ornaments. The little green plastic motorcycle will be at the top somewhere. We'll laugh a lot and tease each other, and I'll get crazy with my niece and nephew. But I know that on Christmas Eve I'll have to find a quiet place and cry for that small little baby and his family. Their Christmases have forever changed. All those stories about the true meaning of Christmas are great, but for me this will be my constant reminder of the real point of it all. And a reason to keep doing what I do everyday. I have the greatest job in the world. I think that's why it makes me cry sometimes.