Stepping up to the plate

In the last 60 hours since our new block started, I have spent 40 of those in the NICU. I've been to quite a few deliveries. Most of them have ended up very happy. One did not. I'm still mentally grappling with the things I've seen in the last two and a half days, and I doubt certain mental images will ever leave my mind. I keep talking with my co-workers about it because I don't know how else to process everything, and unless you've been right there, understanding the emotions and hearing the guttural cries of someone just given devastating news can be challenging. Even when you know there is nothing else you or anyone else could have done to change the outcome, watching someone suffer such a great loss is heart wrenching. I cried both at work and after work on Monday, and I've actually cried again today. I honestly hope that I never lose that sensitive side, and I doubt I ever will.

I am so thankful to those people that God has called to work in intensive care settings because I am definitely not one of them. I'm a relationship-oriented person which is a huge part of why I love working in a clinic; I get to form relationships with families and partner with them to take care of their children. I have less than 80 days til I start my new job, and I am so excited that words fail me when I try to explain!

I came home after my 29 hour call (yay for friends who let me leave an hour early) and crashed for a glorious 4 hour nap. I'm now waiting for Hubby to get home. He'll give me a big hug, and I know I'll start to feel a little better. Then he'll take me to get food, and since we all know how much I love food (both to make it and to eat it), I know that will help too. He'll make me laugh, and humor (even when it is dark humor at times) is a necessity to make it through the hard times.

A friend of mine told me about a sign posted in the ICU where she did med school that asked the families not to be offended if they saw providers laughing; it doesn't mean we don't care -- it is simply a coping mechanism for us to continue to keep hope and be able to come back to face another day of the battle against death and disease. Sometimes laughing is the only way not to cry, and there is definitely a time and place for both. I've had my tears today; now it's time to let my sweetheart make me smile.

Soon I will be able to go back to bed and sleep (the very opposite of what I did last night on call). I know tomorrow will look brighter, and I am looking forward to another day of helping people even if it's outside my comfort zone. May God give me strength when I am weak and words of peace for others in their troubles.