“Here! Take this.” She shoved a small bottle of sterile water into my hand. I wedged my way in carefully between the respiratory therapist and the nurse as I approached the table. I gently (but quickly) dripped three tiny drops of water on his forehead, saying, “I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit.” The surgeon continued her delicate and desperate work. The volume and activity of the room swelled again as I navigated my way back from the table to sit next to his mom. She sat on the edge of the hard, vinyl couch, her face buried in her hands. It was too hard for her to watch. His dad paced outside in the lobby. Being in the room was too much for him to handle. All of this was too much to handle. And God was present amid the chaos and pain. The love and presence of God were palpable and powerful even as the surgeon declared any further efforts to be futile. I ran to the lobby to find the dad so he could reunite with his wife and share their final moments with their baby together.