The nurse stepped into our room.
“How’s baby doing?”
I glanced up. “He’s starting to stir. Likely he’ll be hungry soon.“
She took a moment to study our newborn as he lay swaddled in the bassinet.
Next, she turned to the monitor screen showing his heart rate, respiratory rate, and oxygen saturation.
She checked his IV line. It was still running smoothly.
She turned to us then. “The doctor has ordered some blood work. I’ll have to prick his heel to get 25-30 drops of blood so they can check to see how he’s doing. Are you okay if I go ahead with that?”
My husband and I glanced at each other and nodded. “Yes, go ahead.”
The nurse put a little heat pack on our son’s heel and got to work preparing what was needed.
A minute or two later, she turned back to our newborn.
She took the heat pack off and examined his heel. He already had a few scabs from previous pricks, but she found a new spot.
He was awake now and starting to look for food.
When the nurse pricked his heel, his little face scrunched up and turned red. He began to cry.
The nurse squeezed his heel to get one drop of blood out of his foot and then another. She skillfully collected the sample into a little tube.
I pressed a soother into my newborn’s mouth, but to little avail.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “It’ll help them get you feeling better.”
But he didn’t understand.
He continued to cry – a heart-wrenching newborn cry.
The nurse continued her work.
Finally the nurse had collected enough blood to be able to send it for testing.
Dodging cords from his monitors, we changed his little diaper, and I picked him up for nursing.
He calmed as soon as I began to nurse him.
We breathed a sigh of relief.
– – – –
Why would we allow someone to intentionally hurt our little guy who had no idea what was going on?
That wasn’t the only time we okayed something that hurt him either.
Even in the first 24 hours of his life outside the womb, my husband gave permission for nurses to do blood work.
Our little boy cried hard each time his heel was pricked. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew something hurt.
Why would we, as loving parents, allow and even encourage someone to hurt our baby?
Because we knew it might help.
You see, when our little boy was born, he was having difficulty breathing. It was bad enough that they admitted him to the hospital NICU.
After a couple of days on a CPAP machine and oxygen, our son had improved some, but then began to show signs of infection, including in some of his bloodwork. When they put him on antibiotics, he quickly improved.
He had to remain in hospital until his antibiotics were completed because they were given by IV.
What a relief when we could take our baby home with us after a week in the NICU! He transitioned home so smoothly that you’d never know he had needed that extra care. 
(A quick shout out to say thank you to the NICU team for their incredible care for the precious little ones in their unit. It was amazing to see the work they do.)
Why share all this? Because my husband pointed out a powerful allegory in the midst of it.
He, as a loving dad, allowed the nurses to prick our little boy and make him bleed. Why? Because he could see the big picture.
My son didn’t understand. All he knew was that something hurt. He couldn’t have even told me that it was his foot. He just knew that something hurt and he didn’t like it.
My newborn did the only thing he knew to do. He cried.
Did I rebuke my son for crying? No. I almost felt like crying right alongside him.
Instead, I sought to comfort him and, in a sense, to join him in his suffering.
In comparison to God, I am like my little newborn.
I am small and helpless.
I do not understand the big picture.
I feel it if something hurts me – oh boy, do I feel it!
I typically have no idea that there might be a purpose behind the pain, nor of what that purpose might be.
God is good, and God is love. He is at work behind the scenes orchestrating everything for His glory and for the good of those who love Him. (Rom. 8:28)
When a heel prick comes in my life (indeed it is when, not if), how should I respond?
First, I find time to take my crying to God.
Just as I didn’t rebuke my newborn for crying, God welcomes me to tell Him how I’m feeling. He cares about me.
If I feel the need, I can even ask God, “Why?”
More likely than not, God will not tell me why on this side of heaven, but I can still ask.
Then I move on to surrender the whole thing to Him, trusting that He is in control and knows what He is doing even if I don’t know why.
I turn my eyes upon Jesus. I remind myself of who He is: all-mighty, all-knowing, good, loving, and interested in the details of my life.
While all that is good and deeply valuable, on a practical level, what should I do when my heel is pricked? When grief or unknowns make me stutter?
In the words of Elizabeth Elliott, I “do the next thing.”
I determine the next thing to do, whether that is make supper or pack a hospital bag, and I do it. Sometimes I have to be even more specific when finding the next thing to do: peel the onion… Put a phone charger in the hospital bag… Once that’s done, I can do the next thing.
“Wait for the Lord and keep His way…” (Psalm 37:34)
Next time I have my heel pricked, may I remember to take my emotions to God, to surrender and trust Him, to remind myself who God is, and to do the next thing.
