From the Publisher and Editor-In-Chief

My mother-in-law, Debra Hutchison, is one of those people who is unassuming, but once you get to know her, you realize she is an angel on earth. Let me explain: for 45 years, Deb has worked in the neonatal intensive care unit of Riley Hospital for Children (the NICU), caring for the smallest and most vulnerable among us.

Deb is a devoted and loving grandmother to our two children, but as long as I have known her, she has also had photos of her other “babies” on her refrigerator, tiny patients throughout the years, some of whom now have their own babies. I have never known anyone who attends more family reunions that aren’t hers–families she is forever part of after their time together in the NICU. Deb’s devotion to former patients and their families continues over the years; she is constantly sending cards or dropping off homemade goodies, reminders she is thinking of them. But she has also been like a mother hen to her colleagues at Riley, mentoring younger ones and always planning pitch-ins and little celebrations to recognize staff milestones. In a recent article about Deb in Riley Connections, the hospital publication, staffers described her as “the heart and light of our NICU.”

RN Jennifer Stark said, “In addition to tirelessly advocating for her patients and families, Deb is the person who kept us united and made everyone feel welcome and included. She was always, for me, a source of knowledge and an example of how to treat staff, families, and all people. She unified us.”

At Riley, on her off time, Deb was known to walk the halls, hoping to give comfort and support to families and coworkers who needed it. In the Riley article, one colleague remarked that she could only imagine the countless lives Deb had touched throughout her career, to which Deb replied, “I really just have to be thankful for all those who touched my life in those years.”

I feel like I hit the “mother-in-law lottery” with Deb. Our mutual love and respect knows no bounds, but like any mother-in-law and son-in-law, we have had our moments. She can be a tough cookie, and very protective of her daughters. I will never forget when I took her to dinner at her favorite Chinese restaurant about 21 years ago to tell her I was going to ask her daughter to marry me (not to ask her permission–in retrospect, possibly a small misstep.) We got along really well even back then, but my announcement clearly was not something she was expecting. When I expressed my intentions, she immediately choked on the potsticker she was eating, pounding on her own chest (nurse that she is) until the dumpling came flying out and shot across the table. She sat back in her seat and said, “l can’t believe what I’m hearing,” followed by silence–a ringing endorsement if ever there was one. I pressed on, explaining how much I loved her daughter, and thankfully, she’s been on board ever since.

Another time, when our daughter was a newborn, I, as a new parent, became frustrated when we brought her home from the hospital, and Deb stopped by and began discussing the baby’s “bilirubin” with my wife. I was nervous enough as it was and had no idea what they were talking about (in my consternation, I heard “Billy Rubin,” a Jewish doctor, perhaps?). They quickly explained they were talking about the common newborn condition of jaundice, and I asked them to please knock off the medical jargon and speak English.

Our kids look forward to summers at Deb’s lake house in Michigan, where they have learned all manner of water sports, played endless games of cornhole and ping pong, and where they know they and their friends (who affectionately call her “Grandma Hutch”) are always welcome. But she is also a grounding influence on our admittedly privileged children, putting them to work around the house (in the process, our son has become quite the handyman), and teaching them the value of a dollar.

As Deb ends her four-decade career in the NICU, my wife, children and I are looking forward to more time with her, particularly as our kids get ready to leave the nest in coming years. Always modest, Deb downplays her role at Riley, though the countless former patients and coworkers who count her as family attests otherwise. On her last day, one of her colleagues made a video of Deb leaving the NICU for the final time. Shot from behind, she was walking by herself towing a red Riley wagon-for those who know her, a poignant image of a woman who, throughout her career, made sure that no one in her orbit ever felt alone.

Jeffrey Cohen jeff@slmag.net