on my mind today

On my mind today are the last three January 7th's that I've experienced.

Two years ago today was my very first day of work in the NICU - my first day as a nurse (technically a graduate nurse, but whatever). I was scared to death and could not believe that I actually had the job I did. I hoped I wouldn't screw it up. I hoped my preceptor (i.e., the nurse who I'd work with during my orientation) and I would like each other (we did!). I hoped I would see great things. I hoped God would use me to love people. Because I hadn't taken my boards yet, I couldn't do anything "invasive" and thus took care of "feeder-growers" (preemies who are relatively well - they just need to grow and learn to bottle-feed in order to go home). I pretty much loved every second of my first day. At the end of my very long two years in nursing school, I wasn't even sure if I liked nursing anymore, and I was pretty much convinced that I wouldn't be good at it. But, once I was working, it didn't take me long to remember that I actually did love nursing, and I really could be good at it. I remember, on my third day of work, crying - happy tears - on my way home, overwhelmed by the fact I finally, finally felt about nursing the way I'd hoped to feel when I first decided to become a nurse.

Last year on this day, I was at work again. This time I was on my own (out of orientation, with no preceptor to guide me) - just me and my patients. Shortly after arriving at work, I met a baby girl who would not be my patient that day, but would in the days and weeks to come. Obviously she made a big enough impact on my life that I still think about her a year later. She was my first patient who had a terminal diagnosis. "Incompatible with life" is what we call her condition. I spent many hours caring for this girl, helping her mother learn to care for her, and helping to prepare her family to take her home. I was so proud when I was finally able to send her home with her parents - proud of her for making it home and proud of them for having the courage to take her home. A few days later she was gone. When I met this baby girl, I never would've guessed that just a few weeks later I would be attending her funeral. You attend funerals of people you've known for years - not three weeks. But of all the people who attended her funeral, I was one of the handful who actually knew her, and for that I am so thankful. It was a sweet three weeks and I feel so blessed to have been a part of it.

And then there was today. Nothing major happened to me at work today. I spent it doing things that are normal to me now. I did assessments, gave a blood transfusion, helped with a barium swallow study, attended a c-section, gave breathing treatments, drew blood for labwork, started IVs, and gave medications. And then I did things that have been normal to me for years. I fed babies their bottles (well, I guess giving a bottle full of barium is a relatively new one for me), changed their diapers, rocked them, and talked "baby talk" to them. Still, two years later, I can't believe this is my job! I can't believe how blessed I am to get to do this every day (or, actually, just three days a week . . . even more of a blessing, ha!). I only hope the babies and families I serve will be as blessed by my time with them as I am.


I mean, seriously, did I really just get paid to play with babies for twelve hours? Let's not tell my boss. I don't want to get caught.