Monday, July 26, 2010
I brought her ice water
Her baby had just died and I brought her ice water. It felt strange to even ask her if she wanted it. She had been up at least half the night, came to us in labor -8cm just over three hours ago, just pushed her baby out, now crying as she lied on her back, lifting her head to see over the stirrups. Trying to see her newborn baby, that now we know she would never see alive. Fifteen minutes and twenty one seconds later the ARNP running the code brings him over to her, ET tube still taped to his face, hands him to her and says I am sorry, there is nothing else we can do. She starts sobbing, the dad is sobbing then vomiting, the grandmother looks stunned. I am stunned, I look over at the NICU team, they have glassy eyes and are looking back at me stunned. I am thinking-are you kidding me. What do you mean you can't do anything. We can always do something. Not this time. She says- we never got a heartbeat. The mom doesn't understand. None of us do, really. The team leaves. She is holding her lifeless baby, beautiful, lots of brown hair, eyes shaped like his mommy. He is early- 31weeks, but on the bigger side. She asks me to weigh him. He weighs 4lbs 2oz. His tiny hands are perfect. As I touch them I am reminded of my own sweet baby's hands and my heart breaks for her. She is 19yo and this is her first baby. She tells me she doesn't want this, she doesn't want to leave him here. I say through my own tears- I know you don't. She says- what happened? dad says- was it the epidural? The ARNP says no. The mom lays him on the bed between her legs and opens his blanket again, I can see her looking at his chest as if to make sure he is not breathing. She touches him so lovingly. I am reminded again of my own baby and my heart breaks for her. There is nothing I can do or say to fix this. I try to imagine what I would want or need. I only have the memory of my own loss-- which pales in comparison to what I can imagine this feels like-- and I wanted only answers, nothing else.. To be left alone. To curl up under the covers and come out and it all to be a dream. I can remember that next morning so vividly. Waking up and as soon as my eyes opened, remembering and wanting to go back to sleep and stay asleep until my baby was alive again . An ache so strong in my heart that it nauseated me. But I ask her anyways. Would you like something to drink? She says sure, some water. So I leave and come back with three cups of ice water. That's it. I thought your baby is dead and I am bringing ice water. What a nightmare. La calls me a little later to say good morning. I ask her to please give HC kisses for me until I can get home.
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7 comments:
How heart wrenching. I'm sorry for both the pain you and the mother in your care are suffering.
How absolutely horrible. I'm running over to Jack's daycare at lunch to hold him and give him kisses.
You get to have the BEST experiences with your job...and also the worst.
I can't imagine how gut wrenching that would be. I don't know how you don't bawl and hold them both.
I'm glad you were there to give her ice water.
I also am a Labor Room Nurse and after 20 years it is the times that are the most heart wrenching when we truly are appreciated and needed the most. It's not what you say it's quiet gestures and the tears you weep with them that are remembered. We never forget them. I recently found out, they never forget us. My seven year old plays soccer and I was emailed the lists of children playing on her team. I recognized one of the last names and immediately remembered the painful experience I had shared with them. It was 13 years earlier that J and her husband had come in to the hospital in labor with thier first baby. I met them at the door and they were both excited yet nervous. When I put them on the monitor there was no heartbeat. J was 40 weeks that day and said the baby was active earlier in the day and had quieted two hours earlier. It was heartbreaking. They were 28 and had waited so long for this little boy, the only blessing was that the labor was short. That baby was the Most beautiful baby. You would never have believed he was not sleeping. We cried, bathed the baby together and dressed him in his going home outfit. Most importantly I took photos of J and her husband with their little boy. Photos that I kept until they were ready for them.
I never expected them to recognize me, I like them have aged but I have a new last name. They recognized me so quickly and over the course of a soccer season they let me know how much I meant to them. Even after all that time had passed we were so comfortable with one another. It was as if our nurse/patient relationship had turned more into family. No one from soccer knew what our relationship was, they just assumed we were family.
God puts us places where we are needed. To you it was ice water. To her it was so much more.
I'm so grateful it was you.
How sad....
We are SO lucky!
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