Back to work

Saturday was my first day back to work as a nurse. I hadn't worked at UCH since some time in May and I was nervous. I was nervous I wouldn't remember how to do my job. I was nervous I wouldn't have enough time to pump. I was nervous for Matt at home with Elyse for 14 hours without me. I was nervous I would be too exhausted to see the day through. I was nervous I wouldn't like my job as much as I had in that past because I had greater priorities at home. When I tip-toed out of the house at 6am and as I leaned over my daughters dark, quiet crib to kiss her goodbye I shed a tear. What was I thinking? I can't do this. I'm not ready to do this. I belong here with her.

Then I reminded myself why I was doing this. I wanted to keep my license active, have a "day off" from caring for Elyse, have a chance to socialize, give Matt and Elyse some one on one time, and to earn a little extra money. Outside of actually having to leave that morning, I was very excited about returning.


On my way to work I was notified that I wasn't needed in my unit and I was being sent to pediatrics. Great. I haven't worked pediatrics in over a year. I feel very uncomfortable donning those shoes and I began to dread the day ahead of me.


Once I got there the day started off well. I was given patients I was comfortable with and got right back into the groove of things much better than expected. I tried to help the other nurses when I could. Later in the day I dressed in a sterile gown and gloves and walked into a room to push drugs for another nurse and this frail little girl with the biggest puppy dog eyes popped up in the bed and said..."who are you?". She has been so sick for so long and in the hospital so often that I stuck out like a sore thumb to her. I told her my name and that I normally work somewhere else. She said "you have a scary name." I said, "Yes, I suppose I do. It's from the Little Mermaid and I used to get made fun of for it a lot, but I like my name now." We began to talk and my heart crumbled into pieces with each word she spoke. I could hardly pay attention to the conversation because my new maternal heart saw her tiny frame, sunken eyes, thinning hair, and IV's and oxygen galore. As other staff wandered in and out for various things she would request settings to be adjusted on her oxygen, she would put in treatment requests if someone happened to speak to the doctor. This was her life and for some reason she wanted to talk to me about it. She told me how she had been sick since she was 4 months old. She said, "You know how kids picked on you for your name....I always got picked on too because I was sick all the time and they thought I was contagious but I'm not." Part of me thinks she told me that just to make sure I knew I was safe to be in there. I felt like a monster dressed in my gown and gloves. I wanted to strip down to street clothes and hold her. I wanted to talk to her for hours just to give her company, yet at the same time, I knew if I stayed a moment longer I would burst into tears. She's often alone she tells me, because her parents have to work so hard to cover the years of hospital bills. She explains how sometimes she likes to be in the hospital because she gets exhausted trying to care for herself at home while everyone is working. This was her life and it was all she knew. There was so much she had never and will never experience. Best case scenario she's got a few more years. I can't put it into adequate words, but she broke my heart.

The worst part was how a few doors down there can be another patient, so badly abused by his mother that his long-term cognition is questionable. I'll spare the details, but that floor is filled with stories like this. Terminal illnesses stealing lives, abused children longing for a face they can trust, children who are vegetables because someone looked away a little too long when there was a pool nearby. It's not just down the corridors of that hospital, it's everywhere and I didn't realize until Saturday how numb I'd become. I knew these things happened. I hear the stories and I watch the news, but it hadn't stared me in the face like this in a very long time, if ever. The sad story was sitting up in bed looking into my eyes and talking to me. I couldn't look away, I couldn't change the channel, I couldn't pretend I didn't see or hear and it hurt.

I needed to go to work that day. I needed to be pulled out of my glass bubble of a life where a bad day consists of chores undone and a baby who fights naps. I get moody if I haven't had enough sleep and frustrated when things aren't going as they should. I get anxious over ridiculous things and discouraged at the tiniest of failures. Saturday showed me how consumed I have gotten living in my tidy, secure, comfortable corner of the world. No....it's better than that. My life is amazing. It is absolutely incredible. I have undoubtedly, undeniably been blessed beyond measure. Bible study this week talked about the intent Jesus has to give us an abundant, full life (John 10:10) and I was once again reminded of how very much I've been given and how much I am loved.

On my drive home I tried over and over to figure out the "whys" of that day. Why that little girl? Why anyone? How can a mother abuse her own baby? The world seemed dark. People seemed cold. Life seemed unfair. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into my bubble, hold my healthy baby girl and hug my incredible husband. I wanted to forget that day, those stories, and her sad, dying face. I desperately wanted to understand God's plan behind it all, but I knew I couldn't. All I knew was His promise that He works all things together for good for those who love Him........His watchful eye was over this, as it is everything, and I had to trust that.

I undressed in the garage and threw my clothes and shoes immediately in the washer and promptly got in the shower. I had also cared for kids sick with the flu or pneumonia that day and I didn't want those bugs in my house but in hind-sight, I think I was trying to wash the day away and cleanse myself of the lingering sadness that was clinging to me.

I'm thankful I went to work that day, I needed that reminder and I'm disappointed in myself that that's what it took, but I got the message loud and clear and I'm looking forward to the two times a month I'll be returning.

On a lighter, side note, things at home went well. Matt and Elyse did just fine and I honestly believe it was a great experience for all of us. My mom baby-sat for her Friday while we went to small group, Matt had her all day Saturday, and Sunday she was in the nursery during service again. I prayed for a baby sitter and was answered much faster than I ever expected (turns out the sitter was praying for a family to baby sit) and she'll be watching Elyse in the near future. I can already tell that learning to let go a little is helping me be the best mother I can be and it's also helping me not get so lost and consumed by the 4 walls of my own life, and I need that. Thank you God.