Andrea
I remember the day I first laid eyes on Andrea Swanson. I
was working the afternoon shift at the county hospital. It
was a pretty much routine day. A case of food poisoning, one
youngster had got his leg caught in the spokes of his bike.
And a few cases of chest pains. Those are typical days at
county hospital.
I was just sitting down to my desk when the call came over
the P.A. system: "Nurse Pennyington, emergency room, two." I
ran down the hallway, my heart beating wildly in my chest,
for the voice that made that announcement was not in her
normal tone. I knew something was drastically wrong.
I entered the emergency room, and my fears were right, for
there lay a small female child with long golden blond hair.
I saw the swollen face and the bruises forming on her face
and neck. One eye was completely closed, already turning
purple and black. Two nurses were bending over her as I ran
up. "What happened?" I asked. "The mother is in the waiting
room and claims she fell out of a rocking chair", replied
one of the nurses.
I stared at the child and I knew this was not a rocking
chair injury. The child's legs were swelling and black and
blue marks were appearing on her calves and thighs. She was
unconscious.
I found out that her name was Andrea, age 4, the only child
of a divorcee who had been awarded custody just a few months
before. I found out that her ribs were broken also. A patch
of hair had been pulled from her scalp. My stomach
somersaulted as I stared at the tiny angelic looking child.
I had worked in the hospital long enough to know this was a
case of child beating. The doctor on duty was summoned, he
was the one who called the police department and filed a
complaint.
Andrea was hospitalized for three days and I was in charge
of her. I sat by her bed, talking to her, I caressed her
tiny hand and told her she was not alone. Her mother was
permitted, with an officer present, to visit but she only
came twice in the 3 day stay.
Andrea was one of the brightest children I've ever seen.
When she came to on the first evening and opened her eyes,
her eyes were the color of the ocean. A beautiful blue and
when she smiled, her smile lit up her whole face.
Being a nurse, working in an emergency room, you see many
things. I felt I learned something with each patient. But
there was some- thing about Andrea, something that tugged at
your heartstrings and I hated to see her leave when she was
discharged. I think I was afraid for her. I found she was
released to her mother, and that the incident was under
investigation.
Two weeks passed and each day I thought about Andrea.
Wondering how she was doing, and how things were going for
her in her home. I thought about her all the time.
I remember it was on a Saturday around 6:00 P.M. when the
ambulance pulled up to the entrance of the emergency room
doors and pulled the portable bed from in back of the
ambulance. I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from
crying out as I stared at Andrea. My heart went out to the
child and I bent down next to her as she was wheeled into
the emergency room. A police officer was behind the
stretcher this time and I was glad to see him. I wanted to
talk to him, but Andrea needed medical attention first. A
team of four of us began to work on her. This time she
suffered a fractured skull, a broken leg, and one of her
front teeth was missing. Again, as before, I smiled at her
when she became conscious.
She looked up at me and through bruised swollen lips, said,
"Nurse, I'm glad you're here." Her words cut through to my
soul. I replied, "I'm glad I'm here too, honey."
Andrea stayed with us for over a week that time. And as
before, I dreaded the day she would be discharged and taken
home. Only I found out home this time was not to her
biological mother, but to a foster home where two other
young children lived. A home filled with love and laughter.
Andrea and I talked about her new home and she was looking
forward to the change. "Mommy hurts me bad," she said.
"Mommy drinks beer all the time and says I'm a bad girl." I
assured her that she was not a bad girl and that the new
home she was going to...well...no one would ever hurt her
again. She trusted me, she believed what I told her, and I
only prayed that my promise to her would be fulfilled.
That little girl won her way into my heart and every spare
moment I found, I spent it with her in her new home. Her
foster parents were two very nice people who knew the story,
knew how this child had got to my soul, and they were more
than willing to share her with me. I always picked up
something on my visits with her. Some- times a little
trinket, sometimes a teddy bear, sometimes a book. My gifts
never ceased to bring a smile on Andrea's face. Nor to have
her wrap those tiny arms around my neck and say, "Nurse, I
LOVE you!"
That was five years ago. Andrea's has a good home today. She
was removed from the foster home and adopted. She is being
raised as an only child but she doesn't mind. She still has
long golden blond hair and eyes the color of the sea. Her
second tooth replaced the one long ago that was knocked out.
She has a closet full of clothes and shoes. She loves to
wear dresses. She is loved, and I believe she has put in her
past and in the back of her mind, the mother who gave birth
to her.
I still buy her gifts but not as many as I once did. We have
other things we do together now. She's in gymnastics and I
go to her meets and watch. She is so proud but not as proud
as I am. She quit calling me nurse a long time ago. Today
she calls me mom, for Andrea lives with me.
Written By: Sharon Bryant
1946@bellsouth.net
--------------------------------
About the author: My name is Sharon Jean Bryant. I am 56
years old. I am the mother of an angel who was born on my
birthday on January 22, 1972. A little boy named Andy Dunbar
who left this world on October 24, 1977 when a tree fell on
him at the age of five. I have two other children, my
daughter, Amy, who I adopted after Andy's death, and my
other son, Randy who I had 9 years after his brother's
birth.
I live in Alabama now but I am originally from Detroit,
Michigan. I have had a website built, "Angels Remembered,"
in memory of my son and all parents who have lost a child.
It is my hopes the site will bring comfort to a weary heart
on nights when the hearttugs begin. It is my hopes that
every parent out there know, they are not alone, that every
eleven seconds, somewhere in the world, a child dies.
I have been writing poetry and short stories since I was in
grade school. I have two years of college in creative
writing and folklore. I love to write about different
things. Mostly true life incidents. I've had the opportunity
to travel around the U.S. in my job (food management) and I
have met many wonderful people. I've heard many beautiful
stories. I store everything in my head, and often dip into
my memory for a certain person that told me a certain story.
I work full time and operate my own chocolate shop where I
make homemade chocolate candies and goodies. Writing is my
hobby that I do evenings. I also knit and I am a wood
crafter. I love making patterns on my scroll saw and
creating crafts for my shop.