Every week, in a hospital filled with sophisticated machines, alarms, monitors, and medical procedures, a 73-year-old man walks into one of the most delicate environments imaginable with something remarkably simple: his arms, his time, and a few quiet words of encouragement.
His name is Dave Whitlow.
He is not a doctor. He is not a nurse. He does not perform surgeries, prescribe medication, or make medical decisions. Instead, Whitlow serves as a volunteer cuddler in the neonatal intensive care unit, or NICU, at Children’s Hospital of Richmond at VCU in Virginia.
For roughly eight years, he has returned to the hospital twice a week to hold and comfort some of its smallest and most vulnerable patients. These are babies who may have arrived in the world weeks or months earlier than expected, infants recovering from serious medical procedures, and newborns whose parents cannot always remain at their bedside because they have jobs, other children, transportation difficulties, or countless other responsibilities.
Whitlow’s job may sound simple.
He holds babies.
But inside a NICU, even something as simple as holding a newborn can carry enormous emotional meaning.
According to reporting from WTVR CBS 6 and People, Whitlow typically spends his visits moving from one baby to another, sometimes holding five or six infants and, on particularly busy days, as many as eight. Some of the babies weigh less than two pounds. Before holding them, he speaks with nurses about each infant’s condition, treatment, monitors, and anything else he needs to know. He then follows the hospital’s procedures carefully as he provides a few precious moments of human comfort.
And before he returns each baby to the safety of the NICU bed or incubator, Whitlow has developed a personal tradition.
He leans close and softly says six words:
“Grow strong. Grow smart. Grow kind.”
The words are short, but the hope behind them is enormous.
A Different Kind of Calling
Whitlow did not begin his retirement expecting to become a familiar presence in a neonatal intensive care unit.
Before volunteering at the hospital, he spent 43 years working in local government. After retiring in 2017, he began looking for meaningful ways to give back. The official Children’s Hospital of Richmond at VCU account describes him as a self-described introvert who wanted to find a new way to make a difference after leaving his longtime career.
Like many retirees, he could have chosen a quieter routine.
Instead, he found himself drawn toward service.
Eventually, that path led him to the NICU.
The hospital says Whitlow arrives in the morning and makes his way through the unit, looking for opportunities to help. Over time, the place that initially seemed intimidating became somewhere he felt he belonged.
In an interview reported by WTVR, Whitlow acknowledged that working around critically ill newborns was frightening at first. These are not ordinary circumstances. The babies can be extraordinarily fragile, surrounded by tubes, wires, monitors, and medical equipment.
But the fear gradually gave way to familiarity.
And familiarity became love.
After years of volunteering, Whitlow describes his role with characteristic simplicity.
“It’s the best gig I’ve ever had,” he says.
He also says that it simply feels right.
That may be one of the most striking parts of his story.
He did not set out to become famous. He was not searching for recognition. He was simply looking for somewhere his time and compassion could be useful.
He found it in a room full of babies who cannot tell him what they need.
The Smallest Patients Can Face the Biggest Battles
A neonatal intensive care unit is designed for babies who need a level of monitoring and medical support that cannot be provided in an ordinary newborn nursery.
Some NICU patients are born extremely prematurely. Others arrive with congenital conditions, infections, breathing difficulties, complications related to delivery, or medical problems requiring surgery.
For their families, the experience can be overwhelming.
A baby who should have been sleeping peacefully at home may instead be lying in an incubator beneath bright hospital lights. Parents may spend hours watching monitors, learning medical terminology, and waiting for updates from doctors and nurses.
The emotional burden can be immense.
The World Health Organization estimates that approximately 13.4 million babies were born preterm in 2020, meaning before 37 completed weeks of pregnancy. Prematurity remains one of the world's most important challenges in newborn health and is a leading cause of death among children under five.
For a premature baby, the ordinary transition from the womb to the outside world can be particularly difficult.
Their bodies may have trouble regulating temperature. Their lungs may not be fully developed. They may need help breathing or feeding. Their nervous systems are still developing.
And yet, amid all the technology and medical complexity, there is another basic human need that cannot be ignored: comfort.
That is where someone like Whitlow can make a meaningful difference.
Why Human Touch Matters
Holding a fragile newborn is not a substitute for medical treatment. A volunteer cuddler does not replace nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists, or other specialists.
But modern neonatal medicine increasingly recognizes that physical closeness and family-centered care can be important parts of supporting premature and sick infants.
The American Academy of Pediatrics has reviewed evidence surrounding skin-to-skin care in neonatal intensive care settings. Its findings indicate that skin-to-skin contact can support breastfeeding, parental bonding and satisfaction, and aspects of infant regulation. Studies involving premature infants have also associated such contact with improved sleep organization, growth, and neurobehavioral development.
The organization also emphasizes that NICU infants require appropriate monitoring during physical contact. Babies receiving intensive medical support may have breathing tubes, vascular lines, monitoring equipment, or other devices that must remain secure. In other words, comforting a medically fragile baby is not simply a matter of picking up a child and holding them. It has to happen safely and according to clinical guidance.
That distinction is important when discussing volunteer cuddlers.
Whitlow's work should not be confused with formal medical treatment or with every aspect of Kangaroo Mother Care. The World Health Organization defines Kangaroo Mother Care as prolonged skin-to-skin contact combined with breast-milk feeding, with the mother playing a central role. Its latest guidance stresses that such care can be used even for babies requiring special or intensive care, when clinically appropriate and with proper support.
The larger lesson, however, is unmistakable: closeness matters.
For small and premature babies, human contact can be part of creating an environment in which they feel secure while their developing bodies cope with the extraordinary demands of intensive care.
More Than a Cuddle
Calling Whitlow a “baby cuddler” might make the role sound almost casual.
It is anything but.
According to the hospital and WTVR, Whitlow begins by consulting with the nursing staff. He learns about the infant's condition and any special considerations before he provides comfort. He pays attention to the baby's monitors and follows the instructions of the medical team.
That process reflects an important reality of NICU volunteering: compassion must work together with discipline.
A premature baby cannot simply be treated like a healthy older infant.
Everything matters—the baby's position, breathing, lines, tubes, monitors, and overall stability. Even well-intentioned physical contact has to be carefully coordinated with clinical care.
The American Academy of Pediatrics notes that when skin-to-skin care is provided in the NICU, continuous monitoring and careful attention to airway positioning and medical equipment are prudent.
Whitlow appears to understand this responsibility.
He does not enter the NICU assuming that affection alone is enough. He asks questions. He listens to nurses. He learns what each baby needs.
Then he holds them.
Sometimes he talks to them.
Sometimes he gently strokes their foreheads or holds their tiny hands.
And sometimes, perhaps most importantly, he simply stays.
Being There When Parents Cannot
One of the most poignant aspects of Whitlow's work is the reason some of the babies need a volunteer in the first place.
A parent may desperately want to remain at the hospital all day and all night, but life does not always make that possible.
Some parents have jobs they cannot immediately leave. Some have other children at home. Some live far from the hospital. Others may be dealing with financial pressures, transportation problems, or their own physical and emotional exhaustion.
None of these circumstances mean they love their babies any less.
In fact, having a child in the NICU can place extraordinary pressure on an entire family.
The WHO has emphasized that families of premature and low-birth-weight babies can face significant emotional, financial, and workplace challenges. Its guidance calls for family-centered care and greater support for caregivers during what can be an intensely stressful period.
That makes Whitlow's presence meaningful beyond the babies themselves.
When he holds an infant whose parents cannot be there at that particular moment, he is not replacing the mother or father.
He is filling a small gap in time.
He is making sure that, for a little while, the baby is not alone.
And that can offer parents a different kind of comfort too.
They can know that someone is there.
Someone is watching.
Someone is holding their child with care.
The Science Behind the Comfort
The idea that touch can influence a newborn's well-being is not merely sentimental.
Research into skin-to-skin care has identified a number of potential benefits for premature and newborn infants.
The American Academy of Pediatrics reports associations between skin-to-skin care and improved breastfeeding outcomes, parental bonding, infant sleep, growth, and aspects of neurobehavioral and autonomic development. It has also been studied as a non-drug approach to reducing pain responses during certain procedures.
The WHO has gone even further in emphasizing the importance of close contact for preterm and low-birth-weight babies.
Its recommendations for Kangaroo Mother Care encourage prolonged skin-to-skin contact and breastfeeding and describe the intervention as an effective way to improve survival and health outcomes among small and premature infants.
In 2022, WHO updated its recommendations to encourage immediate skin-to-skin care for small and premature babies whenever possible, emphasizing that keeping newborns close to their caregivers can have important health benefits.