Heroes

Heroes.

So not in the aspect of Marvel or DC, but who are your heroes? Hero is defined as a person who is idealized for courage, achievements, or noble qualities. Or a sandwich/sub in New York. Which I still call them, just to confuse those around me. Subs are underground trains, not a delicious meaty sandwich that can be 6 feet long. Anyway, back to my musings on heroes, like the inspirational kind. 

My first heroes of course are my parents. They both have hero qualities, aside from just having the inspiration to conceive myself and my sister. My mother a great role model who showed us humor, love, and compassion. A nurse, a student who finished her BSN while I was in tow, a girlscout troop leader, a daughter, a friend, and so many things I can’t even list them all. My father a dedicated police officer for many years, a FBI National Academy graduate, who also pursued his Master’s degree in law, a son, a brother, an enforcer of lights being left on and charging us $0.10, and now in retirement a volunteer EMT for the local fire department.

My sister my next hero, (was probably my first, but let’s let the parents take it) Always hip on the trends, a music lover, a Harrison Ford fan (who got an autographed photo of him when she wrote to him back in the 80’s ***swoon***), clearly she was always someone I looked up to, even when she was dropping a can of corn on my head or smacking me with cement kabanger balls in the head…. Ok this actually explains alot. But again so many accomplishments it’s nearly impossible to list them all and not miss something, so I’ll stop at “great sister, mom, wife, and friend”.

I think listing my heroes can take years, as I admire so many people for so many things. But I never knew courage and love like I do now, until I worked in the NICU. (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). My sons were born at 38 ish weeks and despite being born via cesearian section, were healthy and required no outstanding intervention. I interviewed for the NICU about a month after I had my second child. Bad choice. I walked through the unit and instantly postpardum guilt hit me like a ton of bricks and realized I couldn’t emotionally handle it. So I emailed within 12 hours, the manager I had interviewed with, and withdrew my bid. Fast foward 6 years later. NICU crossed my mind, really anywhere but my current position I was in at the time, crossed my mind. I was stagnating and basically in the need for a change. I had been an adult ICU nurse for 15 years. What the hell was I thinking taking care of babies?? But I needed the change and this was the choice.

My first day, my preceptor said to me “ok, now go change that baby’s diaper, listen to his heartrate, and check his temperature.”. I froze. I f*&king froze. Hahahaha here I am a nurse who without hesitation jumped on a 50 year old man on a stretcher, on the way to the cardiac cath lab, because he became unresponsive and appeared to be in vtach (a dangerous heart rhythm that without intervention, would kill you). After he regained adequate circulation and woke up, with me on top of him.. ..there was quite an awkward couple of minutes as I dismounted and requested he not tell his wife about it, which at least got a laugh out of a man on his possible death bed. But thank God, he made it out of the cath lab with some stents and a trip to the operating room for a bypass. Or the nurse, who without hesitation would decline an inappropriate order by a physician and only because of my experience and confidence, they would reconsider and eventually withdraw the order after researching and conceding that I was correct. I froze. She looked at me and said “are you OK?”. I nervously chuckled… “ I never held a baby that wasn’t my own.” (which was partially true… I did hold my niece and nephew) Why would anyone let me take hold of their baby’s hand, never mind, have confidence that in a dire situation could save their child’s life? What the heck was I thinking?

My first few days I had 3 baby assignments that we call “feeder growers”. I came home exhausted nightly. #1 because I was working dayshift, and hadn’t done that in over 10 years. #2 because these mofos eat constantly, and it was tiring. Eventually I took care of critical babies, micro preemies, and saw my first death in the NICU. My heroes list was growing. The nurses I worked with, the neonatal nurse practitioners, the neonatologists, the tech who can quite even the fussiest of babies, the clerks who calm the new parents and keep the front desk running and do it all so well, our phlebotomists who can get blood from the tiniest of babies without it clotting, the environmental services that keep things neat and clean. But alas the heroes of all heroes are the parents. Their worlds are shaken to the core, the day their beautiful child is born prematurely, sick, or with a congenital anomaly. No one at conception, has written on some plan for their childbirth, NICU.

When I was pregnant, I was concerned I wouldn’t have the love for my child the way it’s idealized on tv and in the movies. What if I was a terrible mom, what if I couldn’t breast feed… was all that I had on my mind. It’s crazy my children survived with how little I knew. And here are these parents dealing with life and death and it’s totally out of their control. It’s so scary but I hope to help put them at ease, even a little bit. I love that part of my job. I love interacting with the parents of these littles. I love giving them hope and being someone they can cry to and with. In the adult world, it wasn’t uncommon to question futility of care. It was actually the norm, especially with those with multiple illnesses that 1 would kill a man, never mind 3 or 4. I see it now more than I did then, I was jaded and critical. I was unhappy and felt hopeless in some situations. I was charged with the care of dying individuals and at times causing them discomfort as they begged me to let them go, to stop making them live. Our coping mechanisms varied, but I was burning out and my life reflected that. My career has often inspired me on so many levels, and NICU was no different. I see hope and love, like I’ve never seen. In the adult world we had our fair share of difficult families that cope with anger and abuse to nurses. I also had lovely interactions where I felt I was able to make a positive impact on a family in grief. People ask me how do I deal with difficult parents, I answer honestly. I don’t really have too many difficult parents. Why do I say that? Because how would I deal if my baby was sick, and I keep that in mind…. always, I keep that in mind. They can get angry and nasty but I remember this little innocent life is being fought for and we fight together. And that’s all that matters. All babies deserve a chance, a good fighting chance. And all parents deserve compassion and capable nurse at the bedside. It is my privilege to be given this opportunity and I thank them every day for trusting me with the care of the loves of their lives, their future.

This is one job I’ve had in nursing where I have made lasting friendships with my patients and their moms and dads (some aunts, uncles, and grandparents too). I get to see this littles grow on social media, and its AMAZING!! I get to see them out at the reunion and give them cuddles, I mean how freakin awesome is that?? There are sad times, yes. I recently reflected on some shifts and cried. Unsure of how or why, and praying for this family and sweet baby. I have agnostic friends who’d mock my prayer, but in all honesty, it gives some of us an outlet which can be cathartic. And I believe prayer and positive outlook help immeasurably. But I’ll get into spirituality maybe in another post.

Babies are heroes for their crazy will they have to live, unless they’re still outgrowing prematurity and stop breathing from time to time and look at you with that dumb look on their face, until you wake them and remind them the need to get that oxygen/carbon dioxide exchange to start happening again. But my real true heroes are the parents who know what’s happenin. They know what can happen. They live on. They love on. They bravely face the day and kangaroo hold their intubated teenie tiny miracle. 

 Real heroes aren’t born heroes, they’re made heroes by circumstance. And I don’t know too many life circumstances that are more challenging than your sweet baby in need and fighting for their every breath everyday. Mad props to my NICU moms and dads, and grandparents, aunts and uncles. I love the preemie March of Dimes bibs that say “ these fools put my cape on backwards”, but you are the heroes too and together you guys are your own Justice League or Avengers.  

Hey dummy, babies hate cold, get him inside 

True Love and Commitment