Down to something like 2.5 more weeks. I’ll keep this post brief-ish.
What I wanted to say was there are times I don’t like my job. Labor and delivery is hard without the level of respect that should be attached to helping bring new beings into the world. A lot of what the nurses do is ignored or taken for granted, and frankly it’s tiring staring at a monitor for 12 hours. It’s easy to get tired of being yelled at, disrespected, run ragged, and treated like a servant.
I have those moments. Those moments where I am again reminded why I keep doing this.
It’s been a long labor. One filled with yelling, crying, decelerations, pitocin, turning, tons of amniotic fluid, poop, blood, and a doctor who made a decision I don’t agree with. But finally we start pushing
Mom-to-be is tired and ready to give up. I’ve been standing for a long while. I haven’t peed, eaten, or drank anything since like 6pm and its 2am now. But I look at her and tell her exactly what she’s capable of
“You can do this. You can push this baby out because you have to.”
I tell her to pull back those legs, and I coach her through something difficult but possible. She pushes through the pain, the pressure, the uncertainty. She pushes until the head pops out, then the shoulders, then the cry comes. Then everyone is crying as the wet, squirmy baby is placed on her chest.
My moment? When that stunned mommy who didn’t think she could do it, looks down at her baby and I get to look at her and say, “Congratulations, Mom. You did it.”
That look of love and accomplishment? That’s what makes it easier to come back. Knowing I helped someone meet their gift and seeing their face burst open when happiness. I’ll keep punching in for that.
What’s your moment?
Travel on, road warrior.