3:00 a.m. Theology: Where Is My Baby?
Summer 2025
This summer series will explore questions that we may wonder when we’re awake at 3:00 a.m., or, generally, in the middle of the night. Some of my reflections will come from my experiences as a chaplain working the night shift at a Level I Trauma Center. Other stories come from other times in my life. If you have questions that you wonder when you’re awake in the middle of the night, I invite you to leave a comment or message me to submit them, as I’d love to ponder more than just the ones I’ve thought of or been asked. Also, as a little fun, I’ll schedule these posts to publish at 3:00 a.m. EST.
One of our family jokes is that our son was “born ready.” This idea stems back to his birth; he is one of the five percent of people who are born on their estimated due date. In fact, everything about his birth was normal and uneventful. Everything was normal, that is, until it was time to prepare the two of us for discharge. I was discharged as planned; my son was not.
The night before we were to be sent home, the nurse came to get my two-day old son around 1 a.m. in order to run some final tests and bloodwork to get him ready to be discharged. Around 3 a.m. the nurse came back with him and with another nurse to say that they were moving him to the NICU (the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit; the ICU for babies). My son had started breathing abnormally while they were doing the tests and it hadn’t resolved itself after over an hour. So, they wanted to keep him under closer observation. They had brought him back for me to kiss good-bye before taking him to the NICU for observation. I was then supposed to go back to sleep until morning – yeah, right! I called my husband to let him know. I pulled out my Bible to try to read and find comfort. I pulled out my devotional book to try to pray. “Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work or watch or weep this night.” And I couldn’t do any of it. They had taken my baby away and I didn’t know where to find him. The NICU wasn’t included on our tour of the hospital. I knew, rationally, that it couldn’t be far, but I had no idea where it was. I tried calling my best friend, who’s a night owl, but she didn’t answer. And then I called my mom. My mom worked as a nurse practitioner in the newborn unit of a large hospital. She told me to call my nurse and ask to be taken to the NICU. Best. Advice. Ever. It was as simple as that. They had taken my baby away and I didn’t know where to find him, until I asked the right person.
At 3 a.m. and 4 a.m., unless we’re working a night shift, we are often not thinking our best. We cannot easily access our creativity or ability to brainstorm. When something happens at that hour of the night, we often just feel overwhelmed and powerless. I tried my usual resources, but to no avail. I have only very rarely called my mom in the middle of the night. This night, however, she was the one with the answer I needed. I called my nurse, who took me to the NICU. Sitting in a rocking chair, I held my baby, until I started falling asleep. The nurses said I wasn’t allowed to hold him if I fell asleep. But I knew where he was.
As a night chaplain, I sometimes made the 3AM phone calls that no parent wants to receive. “Your (adult) child is here in the Emergency Department. Can you come?” Sometimes it was a student from a local university. Other times, the parent was simply the closest contact person for the patient. It was good when I could say, “I can’t tell you any medical information, but I can tell you that I talked with your child and they gave me your name and phone number to call you.” Other times, the doctor made the phone call instead of me and I met the parent when they arrived at the hospital. “Where is my baby?” Here, in the Emergency Department. Or here, in the morgue. Here, at the Police Station. Here, in the NICU. Sometimes, here, home, asleep in their own bed.
I’m part of the generation that grew up with the television PSA’s that said, “It’s 10pm, do you know where your children are?” In response, I keep a closer eye on where my own children are. While I was sent outside to play until the streetlights came on, I send my children out to play and give them parameters: between this street and that neighbor’s house. I know where my babies are. God bless and keep and safeguard those parents who, through no fault of their own, do not.