The Heart Behind the Badge

A woman is screaming, my heart is too. She rushes to me as I enter the home and I see the lifeless body in her arms. A trust no one can earn, but a privilege my uniform provides. Her baby is dead and she is handing him to me to make the difference. I push back my tears so she can shed her own. It is time to work and there are no emotions allowed. I feel his stiff body, cool and breathless. Blood covers his mouth, that not long ago was pink and babbling with youthful innocence. His life had barely began and now it hangs in the balance, at the mercy of my hands. I resort to my training and provide all the necessary measures but it becomes clear we were called too late. As I pump on his small chest I realize there is nothing further we can do. Separation from heart and training is a must in this role. I know what I have to do, but who can tell a mother their baby is dead? My efforts were not enough and now I have to admit defeat. My badge will not save him and it will not save me.