“She was my smallest baby and my biggest miracle!”
Over her three decades as a nurse, Sue Malfa had seen and treated many preemies—but never in her life had she met someone as small as baby Tamaya, born weighing just 9.3 ounces. Yet despite the odds, Sue refused to give up . . .
Hearing a commotion in the hall, Sue Malfa, R.N. knew: A baby was being brought into the NICU she manages at Maria Fareri Children’s Hospital in Valhalla, New York.
Sue stepped outside, eager to meet their latest patient, who was being transferred from another hospital. Yet all she saw in the heated incubator were blankets.
There must be some mistake, the 30-year nursing veteran thought. Where’s the baby?
Saving Tamaya
Just then, Sue spied the baby, so tiny she took her breath away. “Her name’s Tamaya. She weighs 9.3 ounces,” a nurse briefed Sue.
Only 9.3 ounces?! Sue gasped. Though her hospital treated the smallest, sickest babies, Sue knew treating Tamaya—who was so small Sue imagined she could slip her wedding band over the baby’s whole body—would be a challenge. How will we give her medication? How will we put in an IV?
Yet, Sue saw the baby’s eyes flutter open. Tamaya was wriggling, too. She wanted to live.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Sue announced.
First, Tamaya needed a diaper— she’d arrived naked, because even preemie diapers couldn’t fit between her legs. So Sue’s staff made one, snipping a two-inch square of cotton.
Because the soft gel mattress commonly used for preemies was too hard for Tamaya, they added a layer of sheepskin. And they covered her in blankets and plastic wrap for additional warmth.
Fortunately, the hospital had also recently purchased the tiniest breathing tube ever developed. They had debated the purchase: Nobody could imagine ever needing it. And yet had they not . . .
Would Tamaya even have stood a chance? Sue shuddered.
With Tamaya settled, Sue introduced herself to the baby’s mom, Dominique Fevrier.
Her first child a preemie, Dominique’s pregnancy with Tamaya was high-risk. Yet despite bed rest and careful monitoring, Dominique’s body had stopped making amniotic fluid. She’d developed preeclampsia. And by 25 weeks, she’d suffered placental abruption, a condition where the organ that nourishes the baby peels from the wall of the uterus. Tamaya had to be delivered at once— three-and-half months early.
As Dominique sat and stared at her tiny baby in fear and disbelief, Sue softly told her, “She’s been tolerating everything. And she’s feisty!” A few days later, though, Tamaya went into cardiac arrest! As medical staff pumped air into her impossibly diminutive lungs, Sue willed: Come on, come on!
Eventually, Tamaya’s heartbeat resumed—and Sue found herself wiping away tears of relief.
A week later, Tamaya’s heart suddenly stopped beating again.
Sue and her nurses injected Tamaya with epinephrine to restart her heart as another began chest compressions, her thumb covering Tamaya’s entire rib cage.
Minutes passed: Five, 10, 15. Finally, at 20 minutes, blips appeared on the monitor. That’s our tiny fighter! Sue cheered.
Proof of miracles
Still, Tamaya wasn’t out of the woods. Much of her medication and nourishment had to be administered by hand since IVS couldn’t always deliver such minute doses.
Every morning, Sue held her breath until she saw Tamaya, whose underdeveloped lungs and heart remained unreliable, was still hanging in there.
After six weeks Tamaya was finally stable enough for Dominique to hold her. Dominique wept as she snuggled her baby girl to her heart.
Slowly, Tamaya grew bigger and stronger. And after six months, Tamaya was seven pounds, 12 ounces—the size of an average newborn, but 13 times her birth weight—and she could go home!
As Dominique bundled Tamaya up, Sue was delighted. Yet afterward, staring at the empty incubator, she couldn’t help but feel sad: It was hard saying goodbye.
Sue never stopped thinking about Tamaya. And on the baby girl’s first birthday, she and her family returned to the hospital—for a party!
Bouncing Tamaya, Sue couldn’t believe how heavy she felt! And she marveled as Tamaya sang out, “Mama!”
Today, Sue keeps in touch with Dominique and Tamaya, who continues to thrive.
“Tamaya will always hold a special place in my heart,” Sue beams. “Tamaya was my smallest baby and my biggest miracle!”
Where there is life, hope.” there is MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO