By Dave Andrusko
Editor’s note. As I love to say, one of the great delights of publishing online is that stories “live” forever in cyberspace. This means that people will run across stories I’ve composed that go back not just a few months but even decades! Or, alternatively, I will run across a previously published post as I research something else, as was the case today.
Either way, I LOVE this story.
Okay, pretend you didn’t read the headline. It’s more fun that way.
Tatiana Guerra, 30, is from Brazil, and was 20 weeks pregnant when this video was taken. When she was 17, she’d lost her sight.
Courtesy of Huggies Brazil and the digital design firm, The Goodfellas, what you see on YouTube is the unfolding of a minor miracle– at least to we who are sighted and especially to those of us who grapple with understanding 3D printing.
The YouTube is less than 4 minutes long. We are immediately introduced to Tatiana and “Dr. David.” He seems to have a gentle touch and a reassuring voice, the perfect bedside manner.
After the opening “hellos,” the video cuts to Tatiana at home. She caresses her swollen abdomen and talks quietly and persistently to Murilo.
Clearly, Tatiana is passionately in love with her unborn son. “Mommy can’t wait to feel your little body, your little face, your little hands ….So come,” she says. “Mommy is counting the days. …You don’t need to be afraid.”
The video cuts back to Dr. David as he is performing the ultrasound. They chat back and forth.
“What does his face look like?”
“His nose looks like yours,” Dr. David says. “His two little eyes are closed.”
Tatiana smiles and giggles when she is told her son has a “small mouth” and a “chubby hand.”
All the while a 3D printer is transforming ultrasound images of Murilo’s face into something solid.
“And if…if you could touch him, would that let you know what he’s like?”
“Yes,” she responds.
At that juncture Dr. David hands Tatiana the 3-D sculpture of her unborn son’s face wrapped in a white cloth.
“That is your son.”
“What do you mean!?”
“That’s an image of your son. See if he feels the way you think he does.”
And then, the tear-jerking moment. She read a message, written in Braille…
“I am your son.”
She explores her son’s face–his nose, his eyes, his forehead and says (gulp)
“I am so happy to meet Murilo…Before he’s born.”
A moment’s pause.