Where tenderness heals
The day I visited the CHU Saint-Pierre, I was unsure where to go because the place was so huge. A city within a city, I’m often told. I was told to drop in at the neonatal unit because this is where miracles happen. This is where intensive care is provided for babies who have come out of their mother’s womb too early. There were also those that were born full-term, but with serious health issues. And yet the atmosphere is strangely warm: greetings are said softly, announcements are hung on the walls, and it’s nice and warm on this freezing winter’s morning. Aside from the occasional beep, it’s easy to forget that there are little souls behind these doors that need to be closely watched over.
Marie, who runs the department, introduces me to her tiny patients one by one. She tells me their story as she works, and I watch her colleagues changing a nappy as if they were handling the finest bone china. This department was a pioneer in the introduction of NIDCAP, a programme that relies on each infant’s own rhythm to dictate the department’s schedule, rather than the other way round. Their behaviour is patiently observed so care can be adapted to their needs and development. The incubators in which the babies are placed are real technological masterpieces, enabling them to reproduce the conditions in their mother’s womb as closely as possible.
Marie tells me that, in reality, parents are the babies’ first carers. They are the ones who watch over them for hours on end and have the most intuitive knowledge of their child and his or her needs. The warmth of their parents’ skin, their scent and their voice are irreplaceable medicines. So here, everything is designed to facilitate their staying close to their baby at all times. I think this is a marvellous set-up, and ask Marie if adult care is organised in the same way, based on the individual rhythm of each patient. She smiles at me and says no, not yet, but yes, it would be a very good thing for adults too. Once again, we have everything to learn from children.