Naming our babies is a big responsibility. For many parents, the names we choose are hotly debated. They can have cultural, religious, spiritual, familial or other important significance that evolves over time with celebrity influence, major events, and changing social contexts. Some people choose names for their children many years before they are born. There are also cases where as one of the highest honours, a baby is named after someone memorable.

My family has one of those stories.

Since I was a young girl, I have dreamt of having many babies, pondering their names over the years. I admit, I am an over-analyzer and a worrier; I generally don’t do anything important without deep reflection and internal debate. Testing my husband’s patience, I like to talk things out – sometimes, again and again and again.

Within that context, it was out of character that my second son was named without much thought. He was named after someone we knew very little about – a virtual stranger – we didn’t know his last name and we had only met once. But there was just something about the nurse in the pediatric cardiology intensive care unit, who cared for my firstborn during his recovery from open-heart reconstructive surgery three years earlier. Nurse A made a lasting impact on my family during our very brief encounter that stayed with me over the years.

In Chip and Dan Heath’s book, The Power of Moments, they describe the reasons why we tend to remember some moments (or elements of moments) over others. Based on their findings, it’s likely that the degree of stress, trauma and flagship moments contributed to the memorability of our interactions with many healthcare professionals. We have met dozens of doctors and nurses; many of whom I would categorize as geniuses, superheroes and miracle workers. I find myself wondering: with all of these exceptional people, some of whom have literally held my baby’s heart in their hands, why was this one nurse so unforgettable? Why did Nurse A have such an impact on my family?

What does one have to do to enter the realm of being so impactful and unforgettable that a naming honour feels right?

In his book The Greatness Guide, Robin Sharma describes an encounter with a woman who said that five thousand people attended her father’s funeral. When queried whether her father was a popular business person, politician, or local celebrity, the woman responded that he was none of those things. She said: “They came because my father was a man who always had a smile on his face. He was the kind of person who was always the first to help someone in need. He always treated people incredibly well and was unfailingly polite. He walked the earth ever so lightly. Five thousand people showed up at my dad’s funeral because he was good” (p. 84).

This description reminds me very much of Nurse A. He didn’t perform any out-of-the-ordinary tricks and I can’t recall a standout characteristic that made him memorable. But Nurse A was very gentle and kind. He exuded a calm confidence while chaos swirled around us – heart monitors beeping, medical alarms going off, babies on ventilators being wheeled in and out, parents and children crying, and more doctors and specialists than I had ever seen in one room rushing around.

Looking back, my memories return in a dissociated state with me looking down over the room buzzing with a strange combination of fear, brilliance, heartache and miracles-in-action. With gold-rimmed aviator glasses and a faux-hawk, Nurse A wasn’t what I was expecting. He explained that my son’s chest remained open because of the swelling after surgery and that an ECMO machine was ready to take over for his heart and lungs within seconds, if needed. Nurse A remained calm, he listened patiently as I asked question after question after question, and despite what was undoubtedly the most stressful experience of my life, I felt like everything was going to be okay.

Reflecting back, it is actually all so simple.

In Who Will Cry When You Die, Robin Sharma writes “All too often, we believe that in order to live a truly fulfilling life we must achieve some great act or grand feat that will put us on the front covers of magazines and newspapers. Nothing could be further from the truth. A meaningful life is made up of a series of daily acts of decency and kindness, which, ironically, add up to something truly great over the course of a lifetime” (p. 4).  It seems the key to a meaningful life is how we make others feel.

What if, to have a great impact on those around us, we don’t have to do anything more out-of-the-ordinary than just being a kind, helpful, and good human being? What if being an authentic and attentive listener, a genuinely caring person, is the key to creating a memorable connection? What if it is these ordinary things that are actually the most incredible and impactful thing we can do to positively influence the lives around us? If this is really all it takes, then each of us has the power and ability right now to make a choice to be that person: to be that memorable, to help someone get through the most difficult days of their lives. Now, that is incredible!

Over two days, Nurse A did his job, like I’m sure he did thousands of times before, and I doubt that at the time he realized that he had made a lasting impact on our family.

Fast-forward five years to fall 2022, I found myself in the pediatric cardiology intensive care unit again as my son had his second open-heart surgery, the fourth surgical intervention so far – and again, Nurse A was there. After telling another nurse on the ward that we had named our second son after Nurse A, she made the connection and called to another floor where he was working. When Nurse A arrived, I told him that three years earlier I named my second son after him.

And then it felt like time stopped.

Nurse A shared that three-and-a-half years earlier, he had given his newborn son the same uncommon name as my firstborn that he cared for 5 years before. Nurse A said he didn’t know why that unique name just felt right at the time; but after seeing us again, he knew our family had impacted him too.

It was hard to believe; but as we chatted, in many ways it felt like déjà vu – but even better.

My firstborn again rested in his hospital bed, the steady rhythm of his ventilator and beeping of monitors filling the air as medical professionals rushed around him reading the machines, adjusting his IVs, pacemaker wires and chest tubes. As we stood over my son, my breathe caught in my throat, muted chaos swirled around us. Nurse A spoke calmly, asking how we had been, and showing us photos of his lovely family. And just like it had 5 years before, my fear and worry faded away; and instead it was replaced with a sense of serendipity, amazement, and confidence that everything would be okay.

It has been life changing to see how a seemingly ordinary person can instantly transform an experience by simply being genuine, kind, and an authentic listener. Nurse A has taught me that by doing nothing more than being a good person, each of us has the ability to bring hope and peace into the dark spaces where it is most needed. He taught me that by being a good human being, we can be exactly what another person needs.

I have seen firsthand that to be memorable, we don’t have to be a celebrity, politician, award-winning author, surgeon or athlete. Without even realizing it, we all have the ability through our everyday interactions to shape someone’s life; to bring them joy when they need it; to bring them hope; to be such a good and kind human that we leave a lasting impression on others. How wonderful the world would be, if we all dared to be so incredible!

And who knows, you might just find out that there is a baby named after you too.

We would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

Photo by Heike Mintel on Unsplash

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