It's 11 a.m., and Vivian Snead is in her office - a windowless room with bright fluorescent lighting. A nurse rolls her next client in, and Snead briefly studies the 2-day-old girl.
Then she delicately places a tiny wool cap over the infant's head, slides her out of the bassinet and settles into a well-worn rocking chair. The "Granny" is at work.For four hours a day, five days a week, Snead, a 72-year-old retired university housekeeping supervisor, feeds, diapers - and most importantly, cuddles - babies in the bustling nursery in Baltimore's Johns Hopkins University Hospital.
Snead is one of the anchors of the nationally recognized "Newborn Nursery Cuddler Program," created at Johns Hopkins six years ago. It matches time-honored grandparenting skills with the needs of newborns, many of whom are the tiniest victims of modern society's problems.
"In 1989, we noticed a large increase in the number of babies boarding in the nursery for a variety of reasons," says Carol Payne, the program's founder and hospital nursing supervisor. "The length of stay of mothers was shortened. So mothers were going home before babies. Then there are socio-economic problems - mothers exposed to drugs."
Payne joined forces with the national Foster Grandparents Program and the Family and Children Service of Central Maryland to find Snead and the other mainstay in the cuddler program, Inez Brown, 66. The two senior citizens volunteer in exchange for lunch money, car fare and a chance to make a difference in a young life.
The babies boarding in this large, urban hospital stay at the nursery for up to 20 days. They all need some type of medical care, sometimes because they're underweight or have jaundice; sometimes because of withdrawal due to their mothers' drug addiction.
"Drug-addicted babies need special attention," says Snead. "Babies born to mothers on crack cocaine have jerky movements. They cry more. They need to be held tightly and rocked."
Sometimes the mothers live too far away to visit every day. That's where the cuddlers fill in.
"They do what mothers and families usually do for babies," says Payne.
With Snead and other volunteers caring for as many as 20 babies each day, nurses have more time to give medical attention.
"The cuddlers provide developmental care - the touching, the rocking," says Payne. "Babies still need someone to sing to them. It's not just diapering and feeding."
At the same time, shrinking health-care dollars are forcing hospitals to find a cost-effective way to care for an increasing number of boarder babies.
Johns Hopkins pediatrician Marvin Cornblath says the program plays a vital role in the operation of the hospital's nursery. "The program's been a godsend here. It's a great start for babies."
A training program created by Payne combines practical skills such as diapering and feeding with counseling techniques to teach cuddlers how to relate to young mothers.
But there is no formula for quieting restless babies - it mostly is the result of years of experience. Snead, a great-grandmother, was one of six children, and an aunt had 12.
"I helped raise them," she says. "There were always babies around the house. Coming here is like doing your homework after going to school."
The cuddlers also serve as role models for an increasing number of young mothers. "We have a large number of teenage mothers," says Payne. "The cuddlers bring a sense of wisdom here."
Last year, the hospital decided to expand the program and offer this unusual volunteer opportunity to a local high school. Two teenage girls were invited to join the program as cuddlers. The effort was so successful, it will be repeated this year.
Payne believes the program is a model for an institutional partnership with the community.
"It teaches many lessons to teens," says Payne. "It teaches lessons to all of us. We've got the full spectrum of ages, so it's a continuum."
After hearing Payne lecture on the cuddler program at medical conferences, hospitals nationwide have begun calling to find out how to set up similar programs. At least three are already under way in New York hospitals.
Meanwhile, in the Johns Hopkins nursery, Snead settles in her rocker. The baby girl cracks a little smile and snuggles peacefully into her lap for a few minutes before the infant's mother arrives and wheels her away.
Suddenly a wail erupts from a nearby bassinet. "Sounds like someone needs some arms," says Payne. And Granny Snead goes back to work.