Where There’s Smoke…

This is a recollection of a true incident that occurred when Sarah was a newborn.  It somehow failed to make it into my journal then, so Jeanne encouraged me to record it now and insert it after the fact.

As we all know, Sarah was born early to (another story) and so had a low birth weight of about 4.5 pounds.  As a result, she was kept in neo-natal intensive care (NICU) for a period as a precaution, to make sure she was thriving.  Gratefully, she did.

Because her suction reflex was not as strong as most newborns, Jeanne would harvest mothers’ milk, and we would feed it to Sarah with a bottle.  They would even let me do this on occasion (feed with a bottle, that is).

I was there on a Saturday morning, and had settled into a rocking chair in the NICU to feed Sarah.  After a short time I noticed a wisp of smoke that smelled distinctly electric.  I stood to see if I could determine the source, but I could not, and no more was forthcoming, so after a few moments I sat back down.

Again smoke appeared, and I thought I should inform someone, but again when I stood, the smoke disappeared, and there was no one nearby to whom to report. 

After a longer period of looking around, I once again resumed my seat.  No sooner had I done so than the smoke appeared again! I jumped up, determined to tell SOMEONE that there was a problem, but noticed the wisp of smoke coming from my side…from MY POCKET!  Upon closer inspection I found two small but distinct burn holes in the pocket.  I couldn’t imagine what might have caused it, but I plunged my hand in the pocket to find out, and pulled out two 9-volt batteries.  I remembered putting them there to remind me to buy new ones at the hardware store later.  Apparently when I sat, the battery posts would make contact sufficient to create an electric arc; and when I stood, the circuit was broken.

I was glad, after all, that I had not been able to alert someone; and I learned that I should trust my senses more than my analytic abilities.