Wanted: A Thicker Skin

I am not brave.

While leaving for my High School Senior Awards Banquet, I drove through our garage door. (That's enough snickering, you.) The how and why aren't really important here, but I backed right into that sucker. The minute I heard the metal crush and the glass crash, I went numb. Pull the car forward. Get out of the car. Look at the back end of the car. Do not step on the glass. Go upstairs. Call Mom and Dad at work (this was clearly pre-cell phone era). Call boyfriend since I can't get Mom and Dad. Go back downstairs and wait. Once the initial shock wore off, I panicked. I stood there, cartoon-like, rubbing my eyes and blinking hard in the attempt to make the scene disappear. Then I promptly threw up on my front lawn.

I am not brave.

When I was in graduate school, I worked at the University of Pennsylvania in their very busy Labor and Delivery Unit. One night, an emergency bell was sounded from one of the delivery rooms. When you are an L&D nurse, you simply run. You are wired differently than other people. While most people would run FROM an emergency, when you are an L&D nurse, you run towards the commotion. You just do. Since I had NICU experience (No, the irony isn't lost on me either), I went directly to the infant warmer bed to assess the baby. He was grey-- not blue. He was past blue. Again, I went numb. Check the cord for his heart rate. Good rate. Turn him so that his head is to my body so his airway is easier to access. Reposition his head. Flick his feet, rub his back. Grab the ambu bag. Turn on the O2. Pinky finger under his chin, tilt the airway open. Seal the mask around nose and mouth. Positive Pressure first. Still no spontaneous respirations. Check the cord. Good rate. Bag him. Not too hard, don't blow his lungs. Bark out orders- call PEDS now, we need them 5 mins ago. Small respiratory efforts. One minute in. Mentally mark the time. Weak cry. Starting to pink up. Here comes PEDS, let them take him. As I stepped away from the bed, the Neonatology Attending looked at me and said, "Excellent job. You did great." I smiled, calmly left the room, then ran to the locker room and cried for 5 minutes straight.

I am not brave.

At 25 & 6/7 weeks, my water broke and Maggie was on her way. After and initial string of expletives, again the numbness set in. Call Dan. Call Mom. Call Beth. Call. Call. Call. Get in the car with Pam. Breathe. Stay calm. Breathe. Change into gown. Hook up to monitors. Watch for contractions. Breathe. Here's the IV. Fluids will help wash out the contractions. Get ready for 8 weeks of bed rest. First Ambulance ride. Small talk with EMT. Breathe. Give my own report at the (VERY YOUNG ALMOST TEENAGE LOOKING) resident who meets me in the hallway. Watch TV. Watch the Mag Drip. Stay completely still in the bed. Try not to pay attention to the contractions. Breathe. This position is really uncomfortable. Ring the nurse. Turn to my left side. Sneeze. Oh God, I sneezed. Big gush of fluid. Lots of pressure. Baby's coming. Same resident checks me. Five centimeters. FIVE. There is no going back now. And I begin to howl. Not cry. Not sob. Howl. At the top of my lungs.

I am not brave.

On Friday, I noticed Maggie's GTube was leaking. The tube needs to be changed every four months, and it was time. So I planned to change the tube Friday night, when we arrived at my aunt's house for the weekend. We arrived late, and while I had an extra tube with me, I didn't have all the supplies I needed. I decided to wait until Saturday morning, after Dan was able to go to CVS for me. I rocked Maggie to sleep, and put her upstairs in the crib. After a couple of hours, she woke up crying. I took her out of the crib and settled her down again. She fell asleep, and I put her back in the crib. She was quiet for a couple of minutes, then started crying again. It was late, I was tired. "Honest. To. God. Maggie. It is 1:30 in the morning. If you don't stop crying and go to sleep, I'll..." (What I said after the dot-dot-dot probably does NOT qualify me for mother of the year, incidentally.) I let her cry for a few more seconds, then went to get her. As I lifted a screaming Maggie from the crib, I noticed that the pump tubing was not attached to her belly. "Great. Just great. Now I'm going to have to clean up a mess." I went to reconnect the tubing, and found that Maggie's entire GTube had come out. Keep in mind that the GTube is held in place in Maggie's stomach by an inflated balloon. The balloon is about the size of a quarter. The hole in Maggie's belly is the size of a pencil. I panicked when I realized that the balloon was still intact, but outside of Maggie's body. Scoop up the baby. Wake up Dan. Run downstairs. Get some warm water to wipe up the stomach acid and undigested formula that are leaking from the hole in her belly. Hope her skin isn't burning. Test the new balloon. We have no lubricant. Steady pressure, follow the tract, hold her down so it will go in. Don't pay attention to her screams. Inflate the new balloon. Scoop her up, comfort her, whisper in her ear. Ok, ok. We're done. That's all. I'm so sorry, Magoo. I'm so sorry. My mother happened to get up right as I was bringing Maggie back upstairs. I told her what happened, and started to shake. She held me while I shook and cried. I didn't sleep the rest of the night.

I am not brave.

~Sara