An elderly man gives his time to vulnerable babies.
That is true.
But his comments suggest that the relationship is not one-directional.
He receives something from the babies too.
Purpose.
Perspective.
Connection.
A reason to show up every Tuesday and Thursday.
“It’s the best gig I’ve ever had,” he said.
That may explain why he has continued for eight years.
Volunteering can begin as an attempt to give something away.
Then, somewhere along the way, the volunteer discovers that service has returned something unexpected.
Whitlow provides calm to the babies.
The babies provide meaning to his retirement.
Retirement Does Not Have to Mean Withdrawal
His story also challenges a common assumption about aging.
Society often describes later life in terms of what people stop doing.
Stop working.
Slow down.
Step aside.
Whitlow’s experience offers another model.
At 73, he still has something extraordinarily valuable to contribute.
Not a medical degree.
Not specialist knowledge.
Not physical strength.
Time.
Consistency.
Patience.
The willingness to show up.
Those resources may sound ordinary.
In the right place, they can become extraordinary.
Twice each week, Whitlow takes those ordinary gifts into a hospital and gives them to children whose entire worlds may consist of an incubator, a hospital room and the people caring for them.
The Quiet Work Nobody Sees
There are forms of kindness that attract attention because they are dramatic.
A rescue.
A donation.
A heroic intervention.
Whitlow’s work is quieter.
Most of it happens in a chair.
There may be no audience.
No applause.
No photograph.
No baby capable of saying thank you.
He simply holds a child.
Then another.
Then another.
Week after week.
Year after year.
The cumulative effect of that consistency is what makes the story remarkable.
Anyone can feel inspired for an afternoon.
Showing up twice a week for eight years requires something different.
Commitment.
A Family Beyond His Own
Whitlow is already a father and a grandfather.
CBS 6 reports that he has two children and three grandchildren.
Yet the NICU has created a different kind of extended family around him.
There are the nurses who know him.
The families he meets.
The babies who rest in his arms.
The former premature infants who return years later.
Whitlow told the station it was a family he had never expected to find and now could hardly imagine leaving.
That may be the clearest explanation for why he continues.
He did not enter the NICU searching for recognition.
He was searching for somewhere he could make a difference.
Eventually, he discovered that making a difference did not require changing the whole world.
Sometimes it meant holding one very small part of it.
Six Words for the Future
No one knows what will become of the hundreds of babies Whitlow has held.
Some may become teachers.
Some may become engineers.
Some may become nurses or doctors themselves.
Some may become artists.
Parents.
Neighbors.
Friends.
Some may never know Dave Whitlow’s name.
They may never know that when they were at one of the most vulnerable moments of their lives, a retired government manager sat beside them and quietly wished them a future.
And perhaps that is part of what makes the story beautiful.
Kindness does not always need to be remembered by the person who receives it.
Its value exists in the moment it is given.
For eight years, Whitlow has walked into the NICU on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
He checks with the nurses.
He prepares carefully.
He picks up a baby.
He puts his phone away.
He stays present.
Then, when it is time to return that child to bed, he leans close.
Six words.
Three hopes.
Grow strong.
Because these tiny patients have already had to fight harder than most people ever will.
Grow smart.
Because an entire world waits beyond the hospital walls.
Grow kind.
Because after all his decades of working, raising a family and serving a community, Whitlow seems to have concluded that kindness remains one of the qualities the world needs most.
Some people spend decades wondering what their purpose is supposed to look like.
Dave Whitlow found part of his in a NICU chair.
Not by doing something enormous.
By doing something gentle.
Holding one baby at a time.
And reminding each one, before letting go, what he hopes they will someday become.
Strong.
Smart.
Kind.
Sources
Children’s Hospital of Richmond at VCU — “A retiree’s gentle touch soothes babies in the NICU.”
The hospital’s own account confirms Whitlow’s eight years as a volunteer, his routine of holding approximately five to eight babies, his estimate of more than 500 infants held over the years, his relationship with NICU families and staff, and his “Grow strong, grow smart, grow kind” tradition.
WTVR CBS 6 Richmond — April 30, 2026.
The local CBS affiliate interviewed Whitlow and documented his background as a retired local government manager with more than 40 years of experience, a father of two and grandfather of three, his early anxiety about working with fragile infants, and the meaning he finds in the role.
World Health Organization — Kangaroo Mother Care guidance.
WHO recommends kangaroo mother care for premature and low-birth-weight infants and summarizes evidence showing important health benefits associated with sustained parent-infant skin-to-skin care. Volunteer cuddling should not be confused with formal kangaroo mother care, but this research provides broader context for the importance of nurturing contact in neonatal care.
BMJ Global Health — Systematic Review and Meta-analysis of Kangaroo Mother Care.
A review of 31 trials involving more than 15,000 infants found that kangaroo mother care was associated with reductions in neonatal mortality and severe infection among premature and low-birth-weight infants.
PubMed / Frontiers in Pediatrics — Research on developmental care for preterm infants.
Recent research reviews developmental approaches in neonatal intensive care, including family-integrated care, individualized care and appropriate sensory and tactile interventions designed to support premature infants during early development.