A stretch of nights

I survived my first three night shifts as a non-student. Even though people come and check on me, there is still a feeling of helplessness inherent in every moment that action happens and I fumble with a package of sutures or a stethoscope. This is in complete contrast to the moments where I have confidence that I am doing well: monitoring fetal tracings, reassuring the parents and later on, being the labour coach for mom.

There is an intense gravity to the first moments of a child's life. My first shift I stood dumbfounded as the baby, covered in vernix was first rubbed down on mom's stomach, then handed to me. There are at least twenty things that need to be done in those following five minutes (and I am not exaggerating for storytelling merit) and I was just standing there. If there wasn't a goofy smile on my face, it was engraved in my mind.

My goal this past week was to be able to keep my head in such a situation, to be able to accept the gravity and work with its flow to get the tasks complete. I find I talk a lot to the parents.

I have to be careful, because the docs are usually still waiting to deliver the placenta. I have to memorize the time of birth, apgar scores, delivery of placenta and if there's any tears. I am wearing gloves to handle baby, so writing things down at this point is usually not an option. If the docs need a hand, I'm the one to pass them supplies, to increase the oxytocin, to position mom. They are in a sterile field and cannot break it.

Everything happens so fast.

Before I know it, twenty minutes, half an hour has passed and they're leaving, and I'm feeling like shit for all the little things I screwed up. I still have what would take Grace or Crystal only twenty minutes to complete, and I'm probably going to take a full hour.

Next week they're going to let me handle a low risk delivery completely independently, without direction. I am terrified. The adrenaline keeps me going though, and the conviction that if I give this job time, I could be fantastic at it.

Saturday night shift was the worst. High risk side was really short on nurses so low risk side closed down and the labour nurses from there went to help. I'm currently orienting to the low risk side, so the switch to high risk was overwhelming. (On a side note I have been re-defining the word "overwhelming" the way a labouring mother re-defines "menstrual cramps")

I nearly had to deliver a baby because of how short we were. I was sitting there reassuring the mother who had already had at least five babies. I knew that if this woman sneezed, baby would be out. Everyone was busy, even the nurse I was shadowing. I was lucky that the doctor walked in on time, because in my shock I had not gotten anything ready. I felt like an idiot.

By the end of the night I was hiding out in a patient's room while she was sleeping, and this one nurse came in to see how I was doing. Angie did the nicest thing for me. She asked how I was liking the job, and when I started to cry, she took me into the next room and gave me a hug. She told me about when she started and how she did many stupid things, and would go home crying, not knowing if she would come back for the next shift.

She talked through some of the situations where I'd gotten stuck with me and validated my exhausted psyche. She took the time in a busy night to be the nurse's role of counselor to another nurse. I don't often break down and cry and was embarrassed, but she made me feel okay, and cracked jokes until I was smiling again. I'll never forget her, because she was right: I didn't know if I was going to come back the next night. But because of her encouragement I did.
All this from someone I had never met, and was on her last shift on this ward before starting her 9-5 position.

I got home at just after eight that morning, and cried and cried. James held me through all that, missing his bus for his sunday twelve hour shift. I didn't even have the energy to feel bad about that, though I should have.

The hardest part has been realizing that I worked so hard, spent so much money to get to this point, and I don't immediately like my job. It is stressful and upsetting and frustrating. When people ask, as they are bound to, whether I like my new job or not, I am probably going to lie, because a lie in this situation gets me to the next subject a lot faster. I know that with time, I will gain confidence, and I trust myself for making this choice.

I will enjoy what I'm doing in time. Not because I force myself to, but because the adrenaline will be much more positive when I do things right. And I will be terrific at this once I get the hang of it.

Sometimes, beginnings are painful.