3 Facts for the Day

29 07 2013

1. Today at work, as I somehow managed to find the time to pump (I’m still breast feeding gang), I sat down in the room I use and suddenly heard a baby crying out in the waiting room. Naturally, my milk let down as I thought of my own baby at home. Last night when I got off work, my Aunt was just finishing Bailey’s bath. I walked into the bathroom right as she was getting wrapped into her little pink towel. I simply adore hooded, baby towels. Something about that fat, wet face sticking out of a terry cloth hood is heart-warming. I could never pull off that look. When she saw me, her eyes got big. She began to make excited little squeals and flap her arms up and down as if she could fly into my lap. Since she realized she couldn’t fly, she leaned precariously forward trying to jump from my Aunt’s arms to my own. My Aunt, ready to complete the task at hand, wrapped her tighter and took off to the nursery. I followed closely behind. Bailey resembled a hoot owl as she struggled and strained to turn her head around to insure I was indeed bringing up the rear. Once on the changing table, she was momentary pacified to be able to see my face in such close proximity. This only lasted a moment, though. It seemed to suddenly hit her that she should be in Mommy’s lap. As she lay flat, and my Aunt attempted to snap her sleeper closed, she struggled with all her might to sit up straight. Then she started to cry. I scooped her up, half dressed, and she quieted immediately, breaking into a huge grin. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared intently at my Aunt, as if to say, “So there! Mommy’s got me now.”
2. It’s especially appreciated to come home to such fanfare after a day like today. Most days as a nurse are busy. That’s a given. When you have a slow day, it should be savored. Write it down in your diary or something. It doesn’t happen often. Yesterday was my quiet day. Today was its polar opposite. It wasn’t just the fact that it was busy. You can get used to that. It’s the unexpected that gets you. It’s when your patient is sitting up in the chair, eating some eggs, joking with his wife, talking on his cell phone, asking you if he can take a spin around the unit in a wheel chair to see the sights, and then he’s not. The next thing you realize, you have your arm around his sweet wife, trying to comfort her, even when you feel your words are completely inadequate. You pray for a room full of family, hoping you can somehow let God speak through you and give you some word that may lend just a bit of comfort. Then you see the big, tough guy son break into tears, and you barely hold it together. It’s that optimistic part of you that wants to offer hope to the wide-eyed daughter, stating only God knows the outcome. It battles the medically analytical side that knows all the signs point to the end. These days are hard when you see others’ pain so acutely that it is almost blinding. You feel their pain so intensely, and it hurts. It is moments of loss like this that I lean upon The Lord. There is absolutely no way I can understand the big “why?” There is so much knowledge you hold as a medical professional, that you feel like it might possibly overflow and spill out as you strive to learn more to keep up with change. That makes these moments, where no answer can be found, especially difficult.
Proverbs 3:5
Trust in The Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
3. So, when I got home, it was like putting on a favorite, fuzzy robe. It was like letting go, and just being Mom. I didn’t feel the anxiety and stress, just love. I still got to work. Don’t get me wrong there. Chloe seems to feel that my love is best revealed through a servant heart. She could have just eaten an entire Thanksgiving turkey by herself, complete with stuffing, and would still request food when I walked in the door. She asked me to make her some chicken. “I’m so hungry!!!” she said. Marlie offered to make her something after she accosted me. “No! I want Mommy to do it!” She feels like no one can take care of her like I do. She climbed into my lap, and kept vying for my attention as I spoke to the husband. She kept saying, “I just love you so much!” She requested I rock her to sleep, because “I’m so very tired!” One cup of water later, a story, song, and rocking, and it’s sweet dreams, hasta la vista baby. To the physician who told me, “Thanks. You did a great job today.”; I really appreciate your comment. It meant a lot. But to be completely honest, nothing seems to make sense to me right now, fit me so well, or give me that rewarding feeling like walking into my own front door. It’s really good to be home today.
That is all 🙂

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