In New Shoes

As nurses we see, feel, think, hear, and smell things the average person does not in his or her daily work. The crazy thing is that after a while it doesn’t phase us. Thus, why we can discuss bodily fluids at the dinner table without realizing that it may not be quite so appealing to the rest of the normal world. That being said, I think perspective of circumstances changes as life changes. Cases that made me feel one way now may be different three months from now based on life events.

Now that I am expecting a child, I see cases surrounding miscarriage, pregnant patients, and children in a whole different light. For kids I want to soak in every ounce of knowledge so I can assess my own sick child in the year to come and know when I should be concerned as a nurse verses just being a mom. Will there be a difference?

I triaged a woman with the same due date as myself and sent her back to a room to see a doctor for abdominal discomfort. Immediately I felt connected to her. Something about the solidarity between pregnant women...that understanding of discomfort, change, and vulnerability that comes in the first few months that makes your heart feel for that other woman no matter who she is or where she comes from. I didn’t reveal this commonality to her, nor did my baggy jacket, but worried simply because any new or uncomfortable symptoms in a pregnancy are scary. After she went back to a room I checked my baby app as I do daily to learn what fruit my baby was comparable to that week. A small peach. Wow, I thought. We were both carrying human life the size of a peach!

Later that shift I reached out to help a coworker with an IV and ended up in this same woman’s room, where she was indeed miscarrying. The sadness and pain in her eyes and the father’s eyes struck me. Why her? I thought. Why is that fair that her baby couldn’t make it? Why do they have to feel this pain? Why isn’t it me in her shoes? I looked down to see the beautiful baby, too young to be saved, curled up and attached to the umbilical cord, the size of a small peach.

I have seen miscarriages before and cried silently for the baby and family, but this one pulled my heart strings in a different way. I silently prayed for this baby and mom and dad and held back my tears. The first miscarriage I witnessed I cried out of pure shock and sadness for the family, trying to process the sight in front of me. This time I knew what to expect, but I was struck by the beauty of the baby, how in his developing state, he looked so perfect and human. I was confused with feelings of sadness and wonder as I realized that was what was inside of me. That is what my baby looked like.

A selfish part of me wanted to be a part of her care, to help however I could simply to feel like I could do something...because what can you do or say at a time like this? I simply could not imagine being in her shoes...and I felt vulnerable knowing her shoes were walking my same path only hours before.

I am continually grateful for what I have and where I am, particularly in a job that sees tragedy most every day. I pray for the grace to be present to others and humility to be grateful for each day I am not in the shoes of patients I treat.