It's raining, it's pouring . . .

Sorry I've been slacking on my blogging lately. It's raining babies in Memphis! I've been doing lots and lots of this lately . . .

Meet Riley

Carter

you already know Brody
and Nolan

and the newest arrival Kellen, who was just born yesterday! He'll be the star of a photo shoot soon. :-)

I haven't had too many days off to play photographer the last couple of weeks, though. As I said, it's raining babies in Memphis; therefore my work is super-busy! So I've also been doing lots of this lately (I took this while holding our dinky little NICU camera - sometimes I can make it do what I want it to do - with one hand and holding her feisty little legs still with the other).

And we've also had some literal raining and pouring. Here's what our backyard (and our poor, freshly-planted garden) looked like after the storms and flooding that hit west and middle Tennessee a few weeks ago. Fortunately, we just lost a couple rows of our garden, but there are many families in Millington, Dyersburg, Nashville, and everywhere in between who lost everything.


Things have finally dried up around here . . . I'm still waiting for the stork to slow down, though!

thing 2

Who would've thought that twenty-six years and two weeks after meeting my first best friend . . .

. . . I would be one of the first ones to welcome his son into the world?

Two weeks ago today, on April 9th, I was blessed to get to be in the operating room with Brooks and his wife Cari-Beth as their first child was born. Brody Allen was born at 7:02 PM, weighing 7 pounds, 12 ounces, measuring 20 1/4 inches long, and looking a lot like his daddy. It was long day at the hospital, but he was well worth the wait. :-)

Thankfully, Brody is perfectly healthy and required only my photographic and none of my NICU services. As you might imagine, lots of pictures were taken that night and the following day. Enough that I had to make a slideshow. Enjoy.

Welcome to this world, Brody! I'm so glad to finally meet you!

thing 1

I have several best friends, and one of them is Ashley. I don't know if Ashley's ever made an appearance on the blog before, but we've best friends since we were about 6 or 7 years old. We were college roommates until she went off and got married and I went off to Italy. Here we are as sophomores, wearing our club jerseys (please do notice our beloved purple and yellow comforters that we searched the world over to find because her favorite color was purple and mine was yellow).


Three weeks ago today, I had the incredible privilege of being with Ashley and her husband Justin as they welcomed their first child into the world. Oh, the perks of being a baby nurse! :-) I watch women have babies all the time, and it's a miracle every time; but what a truly amazing moment it was to watch my best friend become a mother. Awesome. I couldn't have been prouder of her! I'm so thankful I was able to be there, and so thankful I got to be one of the first ones to welcome little Nolan James into the world. He is every bit as wonderful as I imagined he would be!

Those are my hands drying him off. Once again, my job has its perks. ;-)

Watching Justin become a dad was equally as awesome. He's already great at it.

And so is she. At being a mom, of course - not a dad.

I was able to sneak into the nursery to get pics of his first bath (another nurse perk). And to give him his first faux hawk, of course - because how could you resist with all that hair??

just a joke, courtesy of our friends Becky & Dwain

me, my bff, and her boy at the end of a long, wonderful day

God is good.

moving to a new crib

One post in the whole month of February. That's embarrassing, even if it is a short month. And it's gotten me in trouble with my mom. So here I am.

We've had some major changes at my workplace lately. On Valentine's Day, our unit (neonatal intensive care), along with all the other women's and children's departments, moved into our brand new Women's & Children's Pavilion.



Moving day was crazy! And fun, actually. All of our doctors, nurse practitioners, and many of our nurses (most of us "volunteering") were there to help. Every department moved at different times, with the NICU going first. Here's a pic of everyone waiting for the clock to strike 9 so we could start moving!

My friend Candice and me in the old unit. We graduated at the same time and started in the NICU together.

How cute were the babies' onesies? (Sorry, no pics of the babies actually wearing the onesies!)

And they're off! Two of our 18 babies leaving the old unit. We moved two babies every ten minutes.

At least two nurses and/or nurse practitioners, as well as a security officer, accompanied each baby out of the old hospital, through an underground tunnel, and into the new hospital, stopping at several security check points along the way. Thankfully, we didn't lose anyone. ;-)

our poor, deserted NICU :-(


one of the hallways in the new, huge NICU

my friend Carolyn and me in the new unit

We went from one big room with babies lining the walls to a huge unit with six "pods" that each contain four individual rooms for the babies and a nurses' station in the center. BIG change!

Home sweet home.

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.

Baby 9551

If you're friends with me on Facebook, you know that, when I'm working, my status often reads that I am "saving babies." I love my job, because that actually is what I get to do! I get to save babies . . . sort of. In all actuality, I get to be present when God chooses to save babies, and, if I'm really lucky, He uses my hands to help. Every morning I pray that I will never get used to witnessing these miracles.

Most of the time, my job is happy. Most of the time, my patients get better and go home. But, sadly, it doesn't work out that way all of the time. I wish I could say that I spent all of my time at work saving babies. I wish I could tell you that I've never had to swaddle a dying baby and place him in his mother's arms for the last time. I wish I could say I've never been to a baby funeral. I wish I could say I only saw hellos, and never goodbyes.


When you look at this picture, you probably see a half-buried metal disc with the numbers 9551 etched into it. But when I look at this picture, I see something else. I see a face. I see a crib filled with stuffed animals. I see chubby cheeks. I see a blue smocked gown. You see, four feet below this metal disc is a small pine box. Inside that pine box lies the tiny body of a baby boy. A baby whose name I know. A baby whose veins I stuck, whose airway I suctioned, whose heart I heard beat. A baby whose diapers I changed, whose pictures I took, whose bottom I patted, whose hands I held. He should not be in this place.

This place is known as "Babyland." It is part of the Shelby County Cemetery; it is where the littlest citizens of Memphis are laid to rest when their families cannot afford to pay for their burials. There are more than 17,000 babies buried there. Did you know that Memphis has the highest infant mortality rate in the nation? Each year, we lose more babies before their first birthday than any other city in the U.S. . . . an average of one baby every 43 hours. One zip code in Memphis has an infant mortality rate that's higher than some third world countries. I know, if you live in Memphis, you've probably heard this all before. What you may not know is that many of these babies' deaths are due to preventable problems such as abuse, malnutrition, and lack of prenatal care (obviously the one I see most often in my line of work). These are problems we can help fix.


I'd heard about Babyland before and seen it featured on 20/20, but I'd never actually been there until last April. It's not very far from our house, and my mom and I used to drive by it frequently when traveling to and from Halle's babysitter's house. One afternoon after we had picked Halle up together, we decided to stop by. At first glance it looks like nothing more than a grassy field, but if you get out of your car and walk closer, you'll notice that the ground you're walking on is speckled with round metal discs. Some are shiny, surrounded by fresh dirt, and have just recently been driven into the ground. Others are barely visible as grass has grown up around them, while still others, as result of wind and rain, have come out of the ground completely. Some of the markers are covered with stuffed animals, flowers, toys, and crosses. A few have small headstones in front of them.

As we walked among the graves that afternoon, I silently thanked God for the healthy six month old I carried on my hip. Even now, tears come to my eyes as I think of how easily she could've been in one of those babies' places. The risk factors were there: young single mother, African-American, no prenatal care. Halle could've been Baby 9551. I wonder how many Halles this city has not gotten the chance to know because they've ended up as Baby 9551?


This infant mortality problem is just one of the signs of the brokenness in our city. There are many others. If you live in Shelby County, you see them as you drive around town. You read about them in the paper and watch them on the news. You may come across them in your workplace. I know you probably feel that you didn't cause these problems and it's not your responsibility to fix them. Let me Him gently remind you that these are our problems. It is our responsibility to fix them, or at least to try . . . Matthew 25:40 . . . James 1:27 . . . Proverbs 31:8-9 . . . James 4:17.

If you want to be a part of this movement to change Memphis for the better, I strongly encourage you to consider attending this year's HeartLight, also known as Powerlines, on November 7th at the Agricenter. Typically, HeartLight is a gala held to support Agape. While still supporting Agape, this year's HeartLight will be a little less gala-ish. And it is about so much more than just Agape. Those of you who've been to HeartLight before will find this year's to be quite different. We will still have dinner and there will still be music, but that's about where the similarities end. At Powerlines, you'll get an up-close and personal view of some of our city's biggest problems. More importantly, you'll get the opportunity to help fix some of these problems. We will show you many, many ways that you can use your individual talents to help the "least of these" in our city, not just through Agape's services but through many other organizations in our city as well.

So, if you'd like to come, click here to find out more and to purchase tickets (or to be sponsor!). There are still tickets available for both tours, though the first tour is filling up fast. You can sign up for whichever tour time works best for you. Tickets are $75 each (ouch - I know! Just think of this face. No guilt trip intended . . . okay, maybe just a little one, but it really is worth it). We hope to see you there!

Most of all, please be in prayer about Powerlines and its effects on the people of our community.











"Once our eyes have been opened, we cannot pretend we don't know what to do. God who weighs our hearts and keeps our souls, knows that we know, and holds us responsible to act." Proverbs 24:12