It’s May, Janessa’s month. It’s also currently Nurse’s Appreciation Week. In my world, those two are deeply intertwined. I cannot remember her without also remembering the nurses who took care of me over those three days during the worst moments of my life. They also took compassionate care of Janessa. They washed her, dressed her, swaddled her, and held her, all with love. And tears. I don’t know how they do what they do, I know I could not.
To the nurse who tried to keep reassuring us while another searched desperately for her heartbeat with the doppler, thank you.
To the nurse who responded calmly and reassuringly to Jonathan’s terror over my blood loss and my coloring from hypovolemic shock, thank you.
To the nurse who held me when my water broke, and never left my side until the doctor arrived, thank you.
To the nurses who stamped my daughter’s footprints, one of my most treasured possessions, made molds of her hand and feet, and cut a lock of her hair for us, giving us some tangible items to remember her, thank you.
To the nurse who offered to take some photos of us with her and captured the only time we ever had our daughter, thank you.
To the nurse who helped me bathe after she was born while I sobbed in the shower, thank you.
To the nurses who checked in with my husband to see how he was doing, who remembered that his daughter had passed, too, thank you.
To the nurse who helped direct us and our family for funeral arrangements when we were too distraught to think coherently, thank you.
To the nurse I handed my daughter over to for the very last time, the amazing woman who grabbed my face into her palms, looked me in the eyes and told me I would survive this, that we would get through her loss, when she knew I didn’t think I could or that I would believe her, thank you.
To the same nurse who quickly turned around with Janessa when I panicked as she exited the door, and placed her back into my arms for one last kiss, thank you.
To the nurse who cared for me through my subsequent pregnancy when I felt as though I was losing my mind with worry and anxiety, thank you.
To the nurse who recognized my PTSD when they whisked our son away to the nursery for the night after his very late nighttime birth, and returned him to my arms, thank you.
These moments would have been additionally traumatic without your care, empathy, compassion, skills, expertise, and calming nature. I know it must not be easy. I know you hurt with us, and grieve for us, and take it all home with you.
To all the nurses on my friends list, or those that may read this post on Butterfly Footprints, who wake up each day and do a sometimes, almost thankless job, I hope my words show you how deeply you make a difference and how very appreciated you are.
Thank you for all that you do.
No comments:
Post a Comment