Bloody baby.
June 27th, 2003 byI followed a speeding fire truck from 24th and Willamette all the way to the Spencer’s Butte parking lot. It was a quick trip and I was glad to have all green lights along Willamette street. Even as I grabbed my poles and pack out of the trunk and walked past the ambulance that was already there I didn’t think too much about why they were there. Maybe some guy had a heart attack or something. I started up the trail. About 1/4 mile in I rounded a corner to see an EMT holding a baby in her arms to her chest. The baby was motionless and quiet. Following behind was another EMT and a man with a baby backpack, empty. He looked like he had just vomitted, ghostly white and sweaty. As I turned around to watch them go by I saw the baby’s face. There wasn’t any visible injury, it’s eyes were open, but there was a lot of blood. Deep dark blood all over his face and discoloring his blond hair (I think it was a boy. I’m not sure). Ironically the baby was lucid, almost smiling. Eyes wide open and alert, watching hikers and the trees go by as they descended the trail. The only thing I can imagine is that the man fell or was tipped over somehow and the baby fell out of the backpack. I wanted to stop and tell him that it was going to be ok. That it wasn’t his fault. Nobody let’s that happens to a baby. It was an accident. It had to be. And the baby was so alert and so calm, he was going to be ok.