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
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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.
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