Losing Renée
by Ronald Bong A. Rodriguez
I WAS ON MY WAY TO METROCLUB in Rockwell to attend the regular
Wednesday meeting of the Ateneo alumni when I received a text
message from my friend Doy. The message was that he couldn’t
make it to the meeting since his wife needed to be rushed
to the hospital. Reggie, Doy’s wife, was seven-months
pregnant at that time. I was worried, but I never really thought
things have gone so critical until I called up Doy late in
the evening.
Our short telephone conversation made Doy’s anxiety
rather too obvious. From his voice, one could easily sense
the lack of blend between feelings of joy, on the one hand,
and the overwhelming distress caused by a sense of impending
danger, on the other. One need not ask how a father could
be so jubilant upon meeting his first-born, especially if
the precious baby finally comes out after two previous miscarriages
by the mother. On the contrary, one would never find it difficult
to empathize with the feelings of parents who are faced with
the likelihood of losing a child: their first child at that.
The situation allowed little time for vacillation. Meantime,
I instinctively made a few calls to keep my lines of communication
with possible sources of help open. A number of my friends
responded positively and even promised to stand ready for
our urgent calls. With Doy’s godfather Antonio and my
cousin Dave, I rushed to the hospital to see the family. As
we arrived at the hospital, a face of a weary and anxious
young gentleman met us. Little did I realize that the man
standing right beside the ambulance was Doy. By then, I knew
exactly that the baby’s life was in real danger.
After paying the ambulance fee, I joined Doy, the doctor,
her assistant, and the baby on board the ambulance. It was
there where I first saw the beautiful baby who rightfully
deserved a beautiful name, Sigfrid Renée. She was so
beautiful that she even managed to maintain her poise amid
her struggle. Who would look good at a time when one—a
fragile 1000-gm baby—required vigorous stimulation and
bag-mask ventilation with 100% oxygen? Miraculously, she did.
Renée was beautiful to her last breath; her exudation
of gentleness and charm proved limitless up until the last
beat of her heart.
 I
was there when the baby died. As Doy dreaded the mere sight
of his baby in pain, I opted to remain close to the baby’s
bed while Doy was on his knees reciting his heartfelt prayers.
Meanwhile, Dr. Tina Victoria, a specialist in neonatal medicine,
was trying her best to save Renée’s life. She
took care of the baby as if she were her own. She felt for
Doy and Reggie as she performed every possible clinical procedure
to wither Renée’s crisis. Dr. Victoria spent every
second of Renée’s eight-hour struggle trying to
help the poor baby survive. More than just a doctor, she seemed
like a mother who would never leave her own child’s future
to chance. Clearly, every drop of her perspiration meant an
ounce of new life that made Renée’s eight-hour
stay on earth possible.
After several episodes of seizures, Renée showed
signs of surrender when she became paler and nonresponsive
to pain. On the seventh hour of life, she went into cardiopulmonary
arrest, but was successfully revived by Dr. Victoria and her
staff. By then, the doctor warned Doy of certain possibilities—one
of which being the possibility of another arrest. The warning
came just in time before Renée went into a fatal arrest.
For Doy, Dave and myself, time stood still when the baby was
finally pronounced clinically dead. We lost Renée.
While waiting for the priest to arrive, my thoughts started
to wander. What has just happened suddenly made me so aware
about every person that matters to me. Renée had a
way of reminding me that the real gem is not made of stone,
but of flesh. It just came to me that the self-realization
that I am into now was but a part of little Renée’s
mission; the other being the realization that I have friends
who do not only care about me, but also care about the people
close to me. What I have done for Doy and his family was nothing,
as Doy would have done the same for me if I were in the same
difficult situation. But the sacrifices of my cousin Dave
and my office friends Ian and Jon meant so much more, because
they offered help to my friend—somebody whom they probably
knew too little about. What a time to find my friends and
myself, but it happened in losing Renée.
When it was time for us to go home after the long ordeal,
I was surprised when my cousin Dave said: “I have never
felt so fulfilled the way I am now, after extending help to
a person in dire need.” I responded with a hearty smile
and uttered: “It’s not how good you jump over the
obstacles, nor how fast you get to the top, but how often
you stop to help people along the way that makes life worthwhile.”
The experience taught me lessons about life, parenthood
and the value of friendship. I have never been so conscious
about life. I have never appreciated the aches and pains of
every mother and father more than I do now. I have never counted
my blessings, especially my friends, until this day happened.
It won’t be long and I might venture into the joys
and tribulations of becoming and being a father, too. When
that day comes, every touch of love that I will offer to my
child will be dedicated to Doy and Reggie’s angel. This,
after all, was a promise I made to her.
Go now and find your heaven little baby. Thank you for the
lessons and time Renée. *
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