Being an RN

I remember there was one doctor who was particularly miserable…. I will call him “Dr. Miserable” for ease.  He is a relatively young doctor who hasn't been practicing very long. But, he truly acts like he hates his job. He gets upset when he is called in while on call; audibly sighing and saying things like, "Great!" or "It figures" to our request for his presence on the unit. What can I say: women come in and have babies. It is kinda what we do on maternity!

I do agree being an OB/GYN is a demanding job. But, do I have sympathy for him? Ummm, NO! He chose this career. He is being amply compensated for his efforts and I am about done hearing how miserable he is. 

One evening I was caring for his patient. It was early evening and he was getting ready to leave the office so he called to maternity enquiring about the status of the out patient I was caring for. I told him her status - that she was 4cm when she was last checked but that she was visibly uncomfortable and walking the hallways - it wasn’t quite time to recheck her. Dr. Miserable informed me he was going home.  Well, at the next exam, which just so happened to be right after Dr. Miserable got home, the patient was 8cm. I prepared to call him and before I picked up the phone I did what had become my routine before dialing his number: I repeated audible to myself, “You are a good person.” This self assurance was necessary as you never knew what mean and nasty things he would say to you simply because you needed to call him about his own patient.  Well, tonight was no different. I finished whispering “You are a good person.” Then I dialed the 7 digits that would connect me to my destiny that evening. I could tell by the long, loud sigh let out by Dr. Miserable when I delivered the unwelcomed news to him about his patient being 8 cm and “pushy” that this delivery was going to be unpleasant. I spent the 25 minutes between call and arrival trying to ensure everything was perfect for the doctor - the stool was in the room, the delivery table was set perfectly and at the “proper” side of the bed. The pitocin was spiked for after delivery and his x-large blue scrub gown was unwrapped and laid out carefully on top of the delivery table. What could go wrong?  Well, my dear patient had to go to the bathroom…. That is what…. Imagine the nerve of a laboring woman wanting to go to the bathroom… I say in jest because while I was in helping my patient to the bathroom little did I know of the arrival of Dr. Miserable - yet everyone else did…. They did because he arrived in a full blown hissy fit having hit a deer with his car on the way to the hospital - he was furious, as if I had cued bambie from behind a tree right as he was rounding the corner, just ridiculous!. He arrived letting everyone know- throwing the patient’s chart he barely looked at onto the counter top as he asked “Why isn’t she on the monitor!” When my fellow nurses informed him I had gotten the patient up to the bathroom his response, “Great, now we’re going to have a baby on the toilet!”  Upset with how things were when he arrived he stormed back to his call room and didn’t come check on my patient at all. Well, shortly after getting her back to bed from the bathroom her water broke and I rang out for help. The still angry, Dr. Miserable, took his time coming and I ended up delivering that baby by myself, as an RN…. I am not sorry though, that poor woman did not deserve to have an angry physician attending to her just because it was night time and her body had the audacity to go into labor on his shift. I calmly and competently welcomed little Katie Ann into the world with gratitude… then as soon as the doctor entered the room I calmly and purposefully left the room.  

Everyone on maternity works hard. Everyone is stressed at one point or another. But, the difference is in the actions of the people. If we as nurses acted like the doctors freely do and wore our emotions on our sleeves and huff and puff and sigh and yes - even swear at people when we were asked to do OUR JOB - we wouldn't be working very long... would we? But, it seems to be totally acceptable for the doctors to be able to do that.  Its unspoken bullying that happens everyday to nurses.

Still

It had been a while since I cried or “teared up” at a birth. Not that I think I have gone cold to birth or anything of the sort but it does become your job and some people you connect with less than others, etc, etc…  Anyway, I was at a birth 2 days ago that caught me off guard and I was pleasantly surprised when I ended up realizing I was on the verge of crying. When I received report at 7am from the off going midwife the patient, Liza, was 8cm and feeling rectal pressure with a preterm infant. From the moment I entered I realized this was going to be one of “those” births. The births where the mother was planning a birth center birth and sought out our practice because of very alternative views/values. Facing a pre-term birth though her venue for delivery had to be changed. Continuous monitoring when before there was only planned doppler auscultation. IV fluids and antibiotics when before it was anticipated she would eat and drink as she felt she needed to.  She was standing beside the bed stark naked it all of her pregnant glory. She had about 5 or 6 strands of vibrantly colored beads around her neck...some longer, laying over her pendulous breasts. Her eyes were closed and she very briefly opened them, acknowledging my entrance only to close them again and return to her inner trance. The music in the background immediately took me back to Africa. The rhythmic drum along with the gutteral chants and groans. All lights were off. Her mother was sitting on the sofa with her eyes closed, whispering her prayers (I assumed, maybe though they were chants or something else). Her partner was pacing back and forth kind of like a caged tiger. He had long, lovely dreadlocks and several strings of beads matching Liza’s.  Behind Liza was her sister. Each time Liza would get a contractions she would squat down and groan, rotating her hips in ways that made you want to join her. And her sister did just that. She would grab onto Liza’s hips, squat down behind her and join in the soul binding dance that connected all child -bearing women in the world that day - it seemed so anyway. I took my place standing quietly against the counter. I placed a pack of sterile gloves in my pocket so when it was evident the time was near I would place them on my hands and do my job as inobtrusively as possible. I assumed I would be in and out of there in an hour or so and I began thinking of what would be my most pressing task when I arrived at the office. The delivery played out much like I expected it would I had to squat down on the floor to support her perineum and catch the squirmy little one… He came out screaming so the NICU staff left almost as quickly as the arrived - rolling their eyes at yet another “odd” delivery by the midwives. But what happened next caught me off guard. I was touched by the moment of it all. I stood there in the background again… waiting for the cord to stop pulsating and just watched…. The tribal music still in the background… the mother grasping her silent newborn who barely realized he was born...the sister lying beside the mother almost spooning her… staring in silence at the beauty of the baby…. the father sitting next to his wife, with his hand on his freshly born son, head raised to the sky, eyes closed with tears streaming down his face… and her mother still speaking words only God could hear.  The scene was so moving and genuine that my words here most surely do not convey the beauty of it. I found myself forgetting about what stacks of charts were waiting for me at the office, forgetting about my teenage son who was steaming mad at me today because he had to walk to school that morning due to my need to be at the hospital - again…. forgetting about everything except the beauty of birth. What a sweet surprise to be reminded of that truth on that day.

Water Birth

Have you ever had a bite of ice cream or a sip of wine so good it made you cry?  Have you ever been in a concert and reached out and touched the sleeve of the leather jacket of your teenage rock star icon? Have you ever practiced a song on an instrument clumsily over and oven then finally played it through note by note perfectly? Well, that …… that is what it is like for a midwife to catch a baby in the water at a birth center.  It is pure magic.

Birth Center

It's hard to go to a seafood restaurant and get a good Italian meal. Possible, but  hard. That's what came to mind one day after helping a mom have an unmedicated, non-augmented, natural childbirth in the hospital. Birth Centers are such a good option. They have all of the safety measures/protocols in place but foster and support natural childbirth.