The maternity ward at Saint Thorn Medical Center was very full that day.
Though delivery went smoothly and without problems, a higher than normal number of medical staff were gathered in the room — twelve doctors, three senior nurses and two pediatric cardiologists.
There wasn’t any kind of emergency. The odd findings from the fetal scans were what created all the interest.
The baby’s heart functioned well and had a very steady, unusual level of regularity. It was so steady, in fact, that it seemed strange to staff at first and they thought there might be an error.
Every time we tried the tests and spoke to experts, the outcomes were all consistent. My heart not only beat strongly, but at a very regular rate. There’s nothing dangerous, but it remains quite unusual.
Amira was twenty-eight, healthy and had sailed through her pregnancy so far.
All she wanted was that she not be made into a show for curious people to study.
At 8:43 a.m., Amira gave her last and strongest push, then everything went silent.
No panic existed at that moment. Only awe.
Her son arrived with very soft hair, tranquil-looking skin and an intense gaze. She wasn’t in tears. He straightened up in his seat and looked right at those near him.
Scott spoke in a collected way and moved calmly. The look he gave Dr. Havel took all the words from the skilled physician. It wasn’t the same vacant stare a newborn has. The openings made it aware on its own, even.
A nurse gently told her, “He is really looking at you.”
“I guess it’s just something instinctive,” said Havel, but he wasn’t sure.
Then something completely surprising happened.
The first monitor in the room went out, followed by a second. The monitor for the mother’s pulse started flashing.
Lighting in the ward flickered for a second which made every TV display in the area flicker together and pulse at the same speed.
A nurse was surprised when she noticed, “They’re perfectly in sync.”
The baby tried to touch a monitor and at that point, he let out his first strong cry. As soon as that happened, the monitors went back to normal.
Everyone was once again quiet inside the room.
“That doesn’t feel right at all,” Havel added.
Because she did not know what happened, Amira only checked to see if her baby was fine.
The nurse reassured her as she responded, “He’s perfect.” Mom just seemed very attentive.
After Amira swaddled the baby and put her on her chest, the baby settled down.
All looked normal. All the same, no one present would easily be able to forget what just happened.
Later, while speaking in whispers, staff talked about the incident among themselves.
You think of babies when you think about that same look, one mentioned.
My colleague said, “No.” Maybe I’m just noticing more than I should.
How are we supposed to use the synchronized monitors? Riley encouraged further by pressing on him.
Maybe there was just a quick power problem, someone thought.
Will all of them come at once? You mean in different parts of the house?” she said, not agreeing.
Finally, after Dr. Havel took the case, he came to believe, “He is not like the others.” That much is very obvious.
Amira called her son Josiah, after her grandfather, who thought that some people are born quietly and others bring big change from the start.
At that point, she still didn’t realize how real that declaration would be.
In the following days, the maternity ward had an unusual feel. What I felt wasn’t fear, but more of a heightened sense, as if the air just before a storm.
We paid more attention to checking the monitors. Many of the staff started whispering. Everyone in the ward seemed to sense we were being watched.
And the main part was led by Josiah.
He looked similar to any other newborn, feeding well and resting calmly, but little, unexplainable things still happened.
Nurse Riley thought she noticed an oxygen monitor strap as it adjusted its position one night. The following morning, every stage of the electronic records system on the pediatric ward stopped working for exactly ninety-one seconds. In that same period, three preterm hearts adjusted to normal rhythms without needing any extra treatment.
The hospital said it was due to a software problem. So, many writers began jotting down notes personally.
Emotions played a big role in how the concert turned out.
After her daughter was denied her scholarship, a nurse stood by Josiah’s crib to gather her thoughts. The baby put a hand on her wrist and afterward she told me she felt much calmer and peaceful, almost as though something had changed in her.
Dr. Havel and the team decided to set up more detailed, non-invasive monitoring by Saturday. The findings were very impressive: Josiah’s heart seemed to synchronize with the slower brainwaves of an anxious adult.
Within seconds, the technician’s pulse coordinated with the baby’s as he contacted the sensor.
Miracles weren’t mentioned by anyone. Not yet.
However, a patient next to mine started losing blood due to injury. Her physical signs became very low. Josiah’s heart monitor went flat for twelve seconds and showed no distress or reaction.
After this, his heart rate was back to normal and the patient did well, even though we weren’t sure why.
Rumors spread. The confidential memo then added: “Maintain confidentiality about child #J. Use the normal monitoring methods.”
Even so, every time they went by his room, the staff smiled. He did not cry under his own power—unless someone around him was crying.
An intern asked Amira if she thought her son was acting differently and Amira gave a reassuring grin.
I guess the world is starting to understand the differences I’ve noticed all my life. He never had the ordinary in him.
The couple walked quietly out of the hospital seven days after being admitted. Even so, it was hard to hide, as that feeling had changed.