Return of the RN

Mother's Day was spent working my new job at the hospital. I had signed up for the weekend shift, not even aware of the holiday. You would think that two mamas together would remember Mother's Day, but we both forgot until it was upon us. We've been preoccupied with, you know, finding a home with an intact kitchen. Anyway, the maternity ward is not a bad place to be on Mother's Day. It is full of women in the afterglow of delivery, shocked and blissful, and the family, spouses, and nurses who support them. Wishing a Happy Mother's Day is an especially spirited endeavor, and the place is usually full of muffins, cake, and too much chocolate.

I was four months pregnant and still hungover from nausea the last time I worked a hospital shift. That was 21 months ago- nearly two years- and it was noted. My nursing practice was rusty, and so was my body as it endured the twelve hour shift. I was strong until about 2pm-- Nug's nap time. That's when the Spirit of Nug descended from above to sit on my eyelids and puff haze into my brain, forcing me to ask everyone I met to repeat what they had just said. How embarrassing. I soldiered through with a platoon of the aforementioned treats.

Truthfully, I wasn't sure how I would perform on my first day back. There's a line from the documentary "The Business of Being Born" that kept playing through my head. After the difficult birth of her child, the midwife in the movie discussed her return to work, saying she was so "lost in the empathy" of labor that she felt ineffectual as a professional to her first client.

Would I also be "lost in the empathy?" Has my practice changed as a result of experiencing pregnancy, labor, and breastfeeding? Of course it has. I am more aware than ever that this swaddled bundle of life was ten months of sacrifice in the making. And that when the family leaves the hospital, two and three and four am will smack them in the face with a list of questions and doubts. I am more aware than ever that if the woman chooses to breastfeed, that support for it will be her lifeline in the first two weeks. And that my twelve hours with a family is not nearly enough time to teach them how to care for themselves, each other, and the baby. I have to resist the urge to hand out my phone number for follow-up home visits.

Postpartum nursing is like an old couch, it's so familiar to me. Yet, I felt stiff and new on the floor, trying to assimilate my experience with my practice. All that I really wanted to do was talk about Nug. "Oh, my baby was the same length as yours!" or "The first ten days are going to be crazy." I was afraid that if I said anything about her, I wouldn't be able to stop (surprise, it's the Nug Show!). Thank goodness most of my patients were experienced moms who needed less of my emotional attention, ahem, neuroses.

My next shift will be entirely with newborns, so thankfully no risk of over-sharing (but maybe still a little comparing...).