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A Mother Whispers Goodnight

by charlie nitric (writer), West Suburban Chicago Land, June 16, 2011

My story is about the magical love of a mother for her new born baby. It's an emotional story of faith, devotion, and the most special human love the world has to offer humanity - mom's love!

My earliest memory of my mother is comforting. I was a little cruiser back then, about 4 years old and it’s my bedtime. Sitting on the divan beside me, mom caressed my face gently with her fingers, keeping the closet monsters at bay. She enchants me with a heroic tale and started the story like this.

Once upon a time in a galaxy far away in the heavens, past all the stars you can see in the night sky, a loving mother was very sick and dying. She was also pregnant with a baby boy. The child she carried was strong and unusually active, and kicked hard inside of her. To feed the child’s hefty appetite, she ate 6 meals a day and snacked on what ever she could to fuel her baby’s growth. Her boy took all her energy, and the mother could sense that her body could not last the full term.

Her doctor had never seen a baby drain a mother like this before. Feeble and faint at 29 weeks into the pregnancy, the woman was admitted into the space post hospital. She collapses into unconsciousness, drifting into a coma. All tests show the unborn is healthy, but the mother is surely dying. The doctor must take the fetus 10 weeks premature. This is the only chance to save her.

As the boy’s head and shoulders emerge in the hands of the doctor, the baby appears healthy. His resistance to leave his dying mother’s body is a determined one. A body scan of the mother computes that the boy is clinging inside of her with his legs. The nurse and a mother herself, helps the doctor pull the boy from his dying mother and the cord it cut. Within seconds, the newborn's skin turns completely yellow. He gasps for air. The doctor checks the heart rate. “Dropping fast,” he shouts. “Move him to Incubation,” and hands the infant off. The nurse scampers out with the child. An unhealthy baby boy is born into the solar world of Titan.

The premature child is quickly diminishing. A technician run tests, but doesn’t know why his virgin body is failing. With little respiration or circulation and no immune system, the lad is dying. The baby lie in an incubator for days, with tubes and wires and every unimaginable gadget used to support a frail life. Down the hall, the battle to keep the mother alive continues. After 3 days in a coma, the 4th day the mother’s condition turns better. She opens her eyes in the morning and steadily improves into the night.

The 5th day the mother speaks her first words in almost a week. “I need my baby.” Saddened that the boy is dying, the nurse tells her, “You’ll see him soon after you sleep.” The nurse moves her hand across a medication pad and taps it with her finger. The mother drifts into sleep.

The 6th day, the infant boy doesn’t open his eyes. His rate weakens more. The mother awoke early and rang for the nurse. “Can I see my son,” she pleads? “We’re running tests on him now, but you can see him later today,” the evasive nurse said. The doctor wanted the mother to be more stable when she learns about her son’s sickness. “Knock-knock” and the mother’s breakfast arrive. She picks at her food with sorry eyes. By noon her vitals are normal.

The 7th day, the doctor’s commend the boy’s will to survive. The sad mother cries out in a lonely room never having held her son in her arms. Fearing abandonment and rejection in the baby’s heart, the mother’s tears are insistent. The staff gives in to the heartache of a mother. A doctor explains her son’s expiring condition and she's wheeled to his room. The nurse takes the boy from the horrible box, tubes dangling everywhere, and places the dying child in his mother’s arms. One week into life, she holds her baby for the first time. Unknown to all, why is this baby still alive?

Word spread around the Titan colony that the baby is a severe underdog for this galactic world. At the ancient "Crater Temple," community members of the space outpost hold a cosmological vigil. The clergy present the case to the congregation. They offer the infants destiny into the hands of the Universe God. His fate clings to solar winds gusting through galaxies of space and time. The people grab ancient lava dust from the Titan floor, tossing it upwards to the solar winds and the stars above. They chant in prayer as one unified voice.

The mother runs her fingertips across her baby’s tiny face and forehead, caressing his tender yellow skin to comfort him. She names her boy, Charlie Bravo. It is a prodigious name after a galactic "Solar War" hero. Legend recalls, fearing the doom of his beloved Titan homeland by a warring fleet of astral battleships, a fearless 14-year old Charlie Bravo leapt a ride on an asteroid. The desolate space rock was speeding in the direction of the attackers. During the asteroid’s pass of the flaming mass called Arcturus, he lassoes the mighty star and flings it across the cosmos like a gigantic fiery bowling ball. Like bowling pins, the enemy spaceships were struck down, thwarting the attack. Charlie Bravo is a symbol of love, peace, and heroism.

The nurse only lets the mother hold her son for a few minutes. She tells the mother she must put the baby back. Refusing to let go of her dying hero, a doctor viewing outside from the window, enters to assist. “Please, ma’am. Your child must be inside the incubator,” he insists. Still hesitant to let go, the doctor kneels at her side. He places his hands on to her forearms, gently separating them as the nurse takes the baby. The mother, eyes reddened from the stinging tears of sorrow, murmurs, “My son needs me,” and she cries. The nurse places the boy in the ugly box and rushes out of the room weeping.

Once united with her son, the relentless woman refuses to leave his side. A mother’s love is spirited so the doctor agrees to let her stay. He knows the boy will die soon. A mother sits next to a dreadful box that holds her fading child, and she prays. And she prays more. The nighttime ticks away to morning.

The 8th day Charlie’s condition slides more critical through the hours and into the afternoon. The mood in the hospital is dark with anguish. The unit alerts to one final, life-saving effort late in the day. Nothing else can be done to save him. Within minutes, death is possible, or a couple of hours, maybe. The end time for a dying baby is near. Evening arrives.

The staff consoles the mother and leaves the room. The last to go, a doctor and nurse, are stopped by the mother. With brown-eyed conviction, she calmly states, “I need my baby now!” The doctor remains quiet and thinks. The nurse gives him a begging glare. She nods a lip-sync whisper, “A Mother’s Love.” The doctor gulps and reaches down inside of him for composure. “Yes.” The nurse hands the baby to the mother. The doctor sadly says, “Your boy will die soon. I’m sorry.” He and the nurse walk away.

The infant and momma are alone and she loves her child for a final day. She sings while she releases the life support attachments. All the tubes and gadgets are now freed from her baby’s pale yellow skin. One faithful mother, a believer in the hymn of prayer, sings her heart song of love into her tragic boy’s ear. Signals, alarms, and flashing monitor’s alert, medical staff come rushing to the area.

Outside the room, personnel try to open the door. The door won’t open. “These doors don’t have locks,” one doctor shouts. “She jammed the door!” Security guards come running. The men try to free the door with shoulders and kicks but it remains unmovable. The nurse mother lay her hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “STOP,” she orders the men. The doctor is offended by her insubordination. Again, she asserts “STOP! Let the mother sing.” The doctor reluctantly concurs. “Go back to work people.”

The mother is unaware of the commotion outside. She peacefully sings her simple song into the waning hours of the morning. Her son wafts away, barely breathing, and loosely clenching her finger while she continues to resonate her faith tone. Word of the dying boy’s fate reaches an elderly woman whom yelp out wails of sorrow and grief. Her high-pitched cries echo throughout the infirmary. All can hear her as a hospital weeps. The old gal’s painful bellow usher in, the fatal dawn has arrived. A mother holds on in song!

A young pregnant nurse lingers by the room. She closes her eyes in despair, bows her head, sobs and prays. A minute of sorrow passes. She sniffles and looks up through the window. Suddenly she screams with exuberance, “OMG!” An intern asks, "What?" The girl is jumping up and down and pointing, "Come look, hurry-hurry," and frantically motions others to witness! Doctors rush over and a crowd gathers. Through the window, once a cold and dark view, everyone stares in at a joyful mother, singing and playing with her baby boy for the very first time. A healthy child with eyes wide open blue, gleaming and smiling, is dancing his tiny arms to his momma’s rhythm. She sings her merry song to his heart. Charlie Bravo is yellow no more!

All the females press up to the window. Daughters, sisters, and grandmothers; girlfriends, mothers, and little girls, all humming what is now called, “The Charlie Bravo Hymn.” Sun rays illuminate the room and the door opens wide. The peaceful glow soothes the corridor with warmth and joy. A grandma’s hand rises to her face with a gasp, "It’s a miracle!" The mother and son are unaware of the outsourced events around them. All the mother knows is that her child beat the odds. She is taking her baby home soon. What the boy knows and all that he senses, is that he is loved.

So that’s how the story of Charlie Bravo goes. I was always relaxed and at peace when mom got to the end. With my eyes shut, she pulled the covers to my chin. One final brush of her fingers through my hair, she leaned over and kissed my soft cheek. Momma whispered, “Good night Charlie.” I smiled off to slumber another stellar dream.



About the Writer

charlie nitric is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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4 comments on A Mother Whispers Goodnight

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By charlie nitric on June 16, 2011 at 07:21 pm

Hello Melody -

There is nothing more special than a mother's love for her child and I have never doubted for a second in my life that miracles happen all around us daily. I am happy to hear your son recovered and is a joy for you in life today. Thank you for reading my story and for commenting. :)

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By charlie nitric on June 16, 2011 at 07:27 pm

Hey Cher -

All we have to do is open our eyes and heart, then we do see the miracles. They don't have to be big newsworthy events to be a miracle in my view. They just need to be amazing how it all came about and shaped up the way that it did. Cool. Thank you for reading me and for commenting. :)

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By charlie nitric on June 16, 2011 at 07:28 pm

Hi TJ -

Yes, I'm here yippee, lol. I'm glad you like my story Sahara. Thank you for reading me and for commenting. :)

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By charlie nitric on June 16, 2011 at 07:30 pm

Hello Life Riddles -

I like the force with me at all times ;). The force is with all of us, whether we admit it is there or not, love is within us all. Thank you for reading me and for commenting. :)

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