On Christmas Eve, US Firefighters Meet The Baby They Saved

Human beings shouldn't be this small, thought Shamia Pardlow, nor this color: a sickish, pinkish gray. The baby weighed 1 pound, 16 ounces. Her fingers and toes clung together, fused by ribbons of translucent skin. She wasn't supposed to be born, not for another four months.

Some of this Pardlow knew, some she would learn later. But, in the back of the crowded, careening ambulance, there was no time to keep thinking about any of it - because the baby wasn't breathing.

"So I just started," said Pardlow, 24. "I just did it."

Steadying herself as the ambulance rushed to George Washington University Hospital on March 19 - avoiding the eyes of terrified, half-conscious mother Cierra Duckett - Pardlow thought back to the firefighter training she'd completed two months before. She pressed her left index finger against her middle finger.

She touched her fingertips to the baby's chest. She started pumping.

Nine months later, on Christmas Eve, Pardlow saw ZaNiyah again - now healthy, human-size and wearing a custom T-shirt that spelled her name in sparkly gold letters. Her mother had dressed ZaNiyah with extra care for the occasion: a holiday celebration hosted in the Engine Co. 19 firehouse.

It was ZaNiyah's first Christmas. It was also her first time meeting the six men and women of the District of Columbia fire department who saved her life.

"This story could have had a sad and tragic ending," said Fire Chief Russell Smith, stepping behind a lectern to face a dozen firefighters, residents and members of the media.

"But today, as you can see, mom and baby girl are doing fine."

Standing behind the fire chief, Duckett nodded. ZaNiyah drooled - just a little bit.

One by one, Smith read the names of the firefighters and medical personnel who worked together to keep ZaNiyah breathing until she reached the hospital: Pardlow, Tyrone Jenkins, Jamil Blackman, Terrika Hooks, Enrique Barnes and Monique Smith.

After every name, Duckett - ZaNiyah cradled on one hip - stepped forward to hand the firefighter or medic a commemorative "Cardiac Arrest Save Coin," which the department grants to staffers who successfully resuscitate someone without a pulse.

Later, the 25-year-old mother of four took her own turn behind the microphone. When she tried to explain what the six firefighters' heroics meant to her, she broke down crying, unable to speak.

"Thank you," she managed.

None of it, Duckett said later, was supposed to happen.

ZaNiyah's due date was supposed to be June 30. At a sonogram appointment the morning of March 19, a doctor reassured Duckett and her boyfriend, Andre Peterson, that everything was going just fine.

Duckett noticed the stomach pains a few hours later. At first, she blamed her lunch: jerk wings, rice and beans. Confident it would pass, she climbed into the passenger seat of her black Toyota Camry in the early afternoon. She looked out the window as Peterson began driving toward D.C. Prep School to pick up the couple's other children.

Just off Minnesota Avenue, Duckett's discomfort reached a telltale crescendo. A veteran of three births, she could no longer ignore the truth.

"I kept telling myself it was too early," Duckett said. "But I knew the pain was just entirely too bad. I knew she was coming."

Peterson pulled off the road and phoned 911. The dispatcher promised an ambulance, but ZaNiyah was already crowning. Desperate, Peterson sprinted to the middle of the street - and spotted the firetruck.

The Engine 19 crew was en route to a different medical emergency, rushing to help someone else. Still, they couldn't ignore the man shouting in the middle of traffic.

Pulling alongside the Camry, Engine 19 firefighters grasped the gravity of the situation almost immediately. They hailed nearby Ambulance 27 and loaded Duckett inside, where she found herself unable to defy her daughter a moment longer.

ZaNiyah slid onto planet Earth still encased in the amniotic sac - and without a pulse. Pardlow's quick CPR kept the little girl breathing for the duration of the drive to George Washington Hospital. By the time firefighters left the hospital, Duckett appeared to be well out of danger. ZaNiyah's fate was less certain.

The tiny baby remained in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for 100 days. Duckett visited her daughter every single day, peering at ZaNiyah through a jungle of tubes.

She stayed in touch with the firefighters, too. A few months after ZaNiyah finally left the NICU, Duckett pulled out her phone and shot off a text.

"I wanted to see when my daughter would be able to meet the people who saved her," Duckett said. "I think it's important."

She's already told ZaNiyah the story of her birth five times. The telling varies, but the conclusion doesn't: ZaNiyah, Duckett coos, is a real miracle.

She knows the 9-month-old doesn't understand. But someday, she will.