Today is National Neonatal Nurses Day. Can I get a holla?
Luke was blessed with so many amazing medical professionals during his NICU stay. It was the nurses, though, that trudged with us through most of the stay. Yes, our doctors were amazing, without a doubt. But...
It was Beth who held my hand when we found out about yet another horrible diagonsis.
It was Nicole who stood at the door at Dell and greeted us with a "We'll take great care of you and Luke" and meant every word.
It was Lisa who had OCD like me and loved on Luke during the night shift.
It was Leah who walked behind Luke as he was wheeled into emergency surgery - at my urgent plea - and gave me peace of mind I may never have had otherwise.
It was Janet who kept me supplied with Dr Pepper and pacifiers.
It was Dillon who cried big, fat, happy tears when I told her Luke was going home.
It was Bob and Gunther who first recognized Luke's onset of NEC. They likely saved his life.
And the list just keeps going. These nurses were our taste of heaven in the middle of hell. Thank you will never, ever be enough. We love them, to the moon and back.
Showing posts with label nurses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nurses. Show all posts
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
NICU reunion and a river of tears
Palm Sunday weekend, we were able to enjoy some time with other preemies at the Seton Main NICU reunion in downtown Austin. Wow, 800 people attended. That's alot of miracles in one place.
We may have gotten there toward the tail end of the festivities, but we made up for it in energy. All the bigs, including Clare, beelined to the popsicles and then the bouncy house and slides with Scott in tow. Luke and I took refuge in the shade at the sand art table. It was quite lovely.
To our surprise, we ran into one of Luke's neonatologists (neo's) from Dell. Because Luke spent time at two NICUs, we have the privilege of attending not one, but TWO shindigs each year. And, because both hospitals are part of the Seton Family of Hospitals, we had many overlaps in neo's. Dr. Sharnberg is a very gentle, very genuine man. It was an honor to see him. He was interested in hearing about Luke's progress and it was quite cathartic to talk about it with someone who just understood all the lingo and who understood Luke's case through and through.
God bless those doctors and nurses. I know I've said it before, but they are amazing. They have become a permanent part of the fabric of our family. I feel like Luke's journey has woven this giant quilt, it has holes and perhaps a few mis-stitches, but it is gorgeous. Not because of its size, but because of all the unique and wonderful people we've met along the way. Dr. Sharnberg's piece of the quilt is quite precious to us.
We were happy as could be, playing in sand, eating treats and playing, when I struck up a conversation with one of the nurses. I was reminded that it was a weekend and the day shift nurses were working. Luke coded on a weekend day shift. At 6:30pm to be exact. The nurse with us through all of that drama was Bob. Bob just happened to be working.
On a whim, we asked one of the nurses if we could head up to the NICU and say hi. "Of course!" she replied. While Scott and the kids sat in the car, Luke and I trotted up to the 8th floor. That elevator dinged, the door opened and I was completely, 100% unprepared for the flood of emotion that was meeting me on the other side.
All of a sudden it was September 26, 2009 all over again.
The bench. That damn bench. I remember sitting on it, calling Scott on my cell and blubbering that he needed to come to the hospital because Luke was sick. Very, very sick.
Around the corner, I glanced at the nurse on the other side of the NICU window, pushed the button and asked to see Bob. My eyes caught something just behind her and I realized that a nurse was holding a baby in the same spot, in the same bay where Luke resided.
I had to turn around to hide my eyes filling with tears. I squeezed Luke a little harder. Just when I thought I might fall apart, the familiar "click" of the NICU door sounded and I turned to see Bob. It took him just a moment to remember and then I reminded him, "Luke Whitaker. NEC baby. We paged Dr. Wermer when we saw the blood in his diaper. He coded. Then we transported to Dell." Immediately it all came back to him, too. We both just looked at Luke for a moment in silence. We got Bob caught up on Luke's shenanigans, surgeries, setbacks and accomplishments. Luke played peek-a-boo and when it came time for pictures, Luke sat dutifully next to Bob.
There were so many things I wanted to say to Bob. "Thank you" just hardly seemed adequate. I think I just nodded, the familiar tears returned and he nodded. He understood.
This momma didn't realize just how hard it was going to be to head back to the NICU where it all started. I distinctly remember, as if it were yesterday (and there are many days when it feels like just that), walking out of the Seton NICU, with eyes so red, so bright with tears, for the last time. There wasn't a dry eye in Bay 2 on that warm September evening.
We have come so far. Yet, we still have so far to go. I am grateful for the journey and even more grateful that I have this sweet face to remind me just how deep love can go.
We may have gotten there toward the tail end of the festivities, but we made up for it in energy. All the bigs, including Clare, beelined to the popsicles and then the bouncy house and slides with Scott in tow. Luke and I took refuge in the shade at the sand art table. It was quite lovely.
To our surprise, we ran into one of Luke's neonatologists (neo's) from Dell. Because Luke spent time at two NICUs, we have the privilege of attending not one, but TWO shindigs each year. And, because both hospitals are part of the Seton Family of Hospitals, we had many overlaps in neo's. Dr. Sharnberg is a very gentle, very genuine man. It was an honor to see him. He was interested in hearing about Luke's progress and it was quite cathartic to talk about it with someone who just understood all the lingo and who understood Luke's case through and through.
God bless those doctors and nurses. I know I've said it before, but they are amazing. They have become a permanent part of the fabric of our family. I feel like Luke's journey has woven this giant quilt, it has holes and perhaps a few mis-stitches, but it is gorgeous. Not because of its size, but because of all the unique and wonderful people we've met along the way. Dr. Sharnberg's piece of the quilt is quite precious to us.
We were happy as could be, playing in sand, eating treats and playing, when I struck up a conversation with one of the nurses. I was reminded that it was a weekend and the day shift nurses were working. Luke coded on a weekend day shift. At 6:30pm to be exact. The nurse with us through all of that drama was Bob. Bob just happened to be working.
On a whim, we asked one of the nurses if we could head up to the NICU and say hi. "Of course!" she replied. While Scott and the kids sat in the car, Luke and I trotted up to the 8th floor. That elevator dinged, the door opened and I was completely, 100% unprepared for the flood of emotion that was meeting me on the other side.
All of a sudden it was September 26, 2009 all over again.
The bench. That damn bench. I remember sitting on it, calling Scott on my cell and blubbering that he needed to come to the hospital because Luke was sick. Very, very sick.
Around the corner, I glanced at the nurse on the other side of the NICU window, pushed the button and asked to see Bob. My eyes caught something just behind her and I realized that a nurse was holding a baby in the same spot, in the same bay where Luke resided.
I had to turn around to hide my eyes filling with tears. I squeezed Luke a little harder. Just when I thought I might fall apart, the familiar "click" of the NICU door sounded and I turned to see Bob. It took him just a moment to remember and then I reminded him, "Luke Whitaker. NEC baby. We paged Dr. Wermer when we saw the blood in his diaper. He coded. Then we transported to Dell." Immediately it all came back to him, too. We both just looked at Luke for a moment in silence. We got Bob caught up on Luke's shenanigans, surgeries, setbacks and accomplishments. Luke played peek-a-boo and when it came time for pictures, Luke sat dutifully next to Bob.
There were so many things I wanted to say to Bob. "Thank you" just hardly seemed adequate. I think I just nodded, the familiar tears returned and he nodded. He understood.
This momma didn't realize just how hard it was going to be to head back to the NICU where it all started. I distinctly remember, as if it were yesterday (and there are many days when it feels like just that), walking out of the Seton NICU, with eyes so red, so bright with tears, for the last time. There wasn't a dry eye in Bay 2 on that warm September evening.
We have come so far. Yet, we still have so far to go. I am grateful for the journey and even more grateful that I have this sweet face to remind me just how deep love can go.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Vote for Luke! And a Rockin' NICU Reunion
Just today and tomorrow and then I promise I'll stop bugging you about voting for Luke :) Pinky swear.
Last Saturday, we enjoyed a pretty glorious morning and afternoon back at Dell Children's. Trust me. That is not a sentence I thought I would ever write. Most NICUs host a reunion of sorts and we are lucky enough to attend two - Seton Main and Dell. We missed Seton's earlier this spring because we were...at the hospital...in surgery :(
I wasn't really sure what it was going to be like heading back. Seeing all those beautiful faces of the people that took such good care of Luke, and us. It was pretty much awesome. And a teeny bit emotional.
There were nurses and neonatologists, respiratory therapsits, clinical assistants and nurse managers, oh my. They all smiled and belted out, "Luke!" I'm ok with him being the rockstar. He's earned it. To think a year ago, he was barely five pounds and change, with an ostomy bag and a big 'ol scar across the belly.
This day was about celebration, though. Celebration at how far we'd come. Yep, we still have some kinks to work out, but I am hopeful. The reunion reminded me of that precious gift. I don't think I've ever been to a place where so many people were smiling!
There were so many precious moments.
Seeing our first day nurse, Leah. Excuse me, AGGIE nurse Leah. She got pregnant and had a baby since we saw her last. WOW! She was the nurse I begged to go into Luke's first surgery. The surgery we weren't sure he would survive. We have a special connection with her.
Then there was Nicole, the first face we saw just before midnight when Luke was transported. She had everything under control. In the sea of chaos, I knew we could count on her to give us answers. I will never forget our first meeting with her. Ever.
And, Lisa. AGGIE Lisa (yes, we know them all) who visited us every hospital stay after discharge. She was always there to listen. Thanks Lisa.
And Melody, Janet, Kelly, Kirby - so many awesome peeps. Then we heard it, a "Ah, it's Maasta Luke" in the British accent we know so well. Dr. Michael! There isn't enough room on the blog to write about the special connection we share with him. I'm getting teary thinking about it. He is so gentle and loving with Luke, with all the babies, and you just know that his gift is being used just the way God intended. He's a good man, Charlie Brown. Smashing, I'd say. (say that again with a British accent, it sounds way better).
We even saw a few neighbors, NICU neighbors that is. Bryce, aka the Amazing Bryce-anator, looked so good. His mom, Katrina, and I met for the first time at the NICU scrub-in sink. We just started talking and our stories bubbled out. I'm pretty sure we both had tear-filled eyes after that first meeting. Between therapy and doctor visits we've only been able to see each other once since discharge, but I look at her and see a strong woman. Bryce's story will bring you to tears and fill you with hope. I am honored to know the Moline family.
Yes, it was a fab-tastic day. Interestingly enough, just as we prepared to leave, I looked up at Dell and saw someone from a hospital room looking down at the festivities. No doubt, wanting to be anywhere else but that hospital room. I've been that parent. I remember seeing those smiling, happy people. Happiness comes, we just have to wait for it.
How sweet it is.
Last Saturday, we enjoyed a pretty glorious morning and afternoon back at Dell Children's. Trust me. That is not a sentence I thought I would ever write. Most NICUs host a reunion of sorts and we are lucky enough to attend two - Seton Main and Dell. We missed Seton's earlier this spring because we were...at the hospital...in surgery :(
I wasn't really sure what it was going to be like heading back. Seeing all those beautiful faces of the people that took such good care of Luke, and us. It was pretty much awesome. And a teeny bit emotional.
There were nurses and neonatologists, respiratory therapsits, clinical assistants and nurse managers, oh my. They all smiled and belted out, "Luke!" I'm ok with him being the rockstar. He's earned it. To think a year ago, he was barely five pounds and change, with an ostomy bag and a big 'ol scar across the belly.
This day was about celebration, though. Celebration at how far we'd come. Yep, we still have some kinks to work out, but I am hopeful. The reunion reminded me of that precious gift. I don't think I've ever been to a place where so many people were smiling!
There were so many precious moments.
Seeing our first day nurse, Leah. Excuse me, AGGIE nurse Leah. She got pregnant and had a baby since we saw her last. WOW! She was the nurse I begged to go into Luke's first surgery. The surgery we weren't sure he would survive. We have a special connection with her.
Then there was Nicole, the first face we saw just before midnight when Luke was transported. She had everything under control. In the sea of chaos, I knew we could count on her to give us answers. I will never forget our first meeting with her. Ever.
And, Lisa. AGGIE Lisa (yes, we know them all) who visited us every hospital stay after discharge. She was always there to listen. Thanks Lisa.
And Melody, Janet, Kelly, Kirby - so many awesome peeps. Then we heard it, a "Ah, it's Maasta Luke" in the British accent we know so well. Dr. Michael! There isn't enough room on the blog to write about the special connection we share with him. I'm getting teary thinking about it. He is so gentle and loving with Luke, with all the babies, and you just know that his gift is being used just the way God intended. He's a good man, Charlie Brown. Smashing, I'd say. (say that again with a British accent, it sounds way better).
We even saw a few neighbors, NICU neighbors that is. Bryce, aka the Amazing Bryce-anator, looked so good. His mom, Katrina, and I met for the first time at the NICU scrub-in sink. We just started talking and our stories bubbled out. I'm pretty sure we both had tear-filled eyes after that first meeting. Between therapy and doctor visits we've only been able to see each other once since discharge, but I look at her and see a strong woman. Bryce's story will bring you to tears and fill you with hope. I am honored to know the Moline family.
Yes, it was a fab-tastic day. Interestingly enough, just as we prepared to leave, I looked up at Dell and saw someone from a hospital room looking down at the festivities. No doubt, wanting to be anywhere else but that hospital room. I've been that parent. I remember seeing those smiling, happy people. Happiness comes, we just have to wait for it.
How sweet it is.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Going Old School
Remember the days when people actually wrote thank you notes? You know, the kind with a real stamp (that you licked), hand addressed and delivered by the postman. Don't get me wrong, love the email thank you. I USE the email thank you. Even do it via text. But I do love me a good handwritten note.
As we approach Luke's one year birthday (still in shock and disbelief about that), I decided to send a note of thanks to each of his doctors and floors of residence at Dell. I originally thought that I'd just knock those out in about an hour and off to the post office I'd go.
Yeah right. Whew. Talk about a walk down memory lane.
How do you say thanks to the neonatologist that wrote the order to transport him to Dell which was the first time a doctor saved his life? How do you convey your gratitude to the nurses that held your hand while you fell apart at his bedside, day after day, night after night? How do you apologize to his surgeon for being "that" mom when he told you Luke needed emergency surgery? How do you sum up a year on a 3x5 thank you note?
Write really tiny, I guess.
Somehow, some way, I am hopeful that the words we carefully chose to share our thankfulness are felt by each of those doctors, nurses and staffs. I pray they know that they have a job that is really more than that. Their "daily grind" has been burned into my memory. I will never forget our NICU stays, Luke's surgeries, his close calls, his leaps of progress, his procedures, his setbacks... More importantly, though, I will never forget the amazing people we met along the way. Luke's life has opened so many doors, changed so many minds, softened so many hearts.
Praise God for the pen and paper. It's allowed us to say 'thanks' one more time to those that walked the journey with us in a very intimate, touching, understanding way.
As we approach Luke's one year birthday (still in shock and disbelief about that), I decided to send a note of thanks to each of his doctors and floors of residence at Dell. I originally thought that I'd just knock those out in about an hour and off to the post office I'd go.
Yeah right. Whew. Talk about a walk down memory lane.
How do you say thanks to the neonatologist that wrote the order to transport him to Dell which was the first time a doctor saved his life? How do you convey your gratitude to the nurses that held your hand while you fell apart at his bedside, day after day, night after night? How do you apologize to his surgeon for being "that" mom when he told you Luke needed emergency surgery? How do you sum up a year on a 3x5 thank you note?
Write really tiny, I guess.
Somehow, some way, I am hopeful that the words we carefully chose to share our thankfulness are felt by each of those doctors, nurses and staffs. I pray they know that they have a job that is really more than that. Their "daily grind" has been burned into my memory. I will never forget our NICU stays, Luke's surgeries, his close calls, his leaps of progress, his procedures, his setbacks... More importantly, though, I will never forget the amazing people we met along the way. Luke's life has opened so many doors, changed so many minds, softened so many hearts.
Praise God for the pen and paper. It's allowed us to say 'thanks' one more time to those that walked the journey with us in a very intimate, touching, understanding way.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Nurses Rock
We began Luke's journey at Seton Main's NICU. Those first couple of days, I vaguely remember some really nice people taking care of Luke, but my eyes were fixated on his bed and his little body. Slowly, the fog started to clear. Because I was recovering from a c-section, and then nested for a week, I was able to be in the NICU quite a bit...which meant for some very meaningful conversations with Luke's nurses. Then the transfer to Dell and we really got to know our nurses (whether they liked it or not!) Add in Luke's subsequent stays on "the floor" at Dell and we encountered a new crop.
Admittedly, a few weeks ago I was a bit of a nurse snob. We really only knew how NICU nurses functioned. When we went to the med-surg (medical - surgery) floor, we were in shock. It just wasn't the around-the-clock care Luke had in the early days. I complained that we went from first-class to coach. Shame on me.
Nurses, like doctors, are a specialized breed. After living in the hospital for so many days, we've really come to appreciate their specialization. Some we've had were amazingly fantastic. They held our hands while we got devastating news, they made us laugh, they explained a procedure because they could tell we were freaking out, they listened, they brought us magazines, they offered tissues. Oh, and yes, they took great care of Luke. Some stunk. Hey, it happens. But, when it did happen, I called the charge nurse and asked that they not be assigned to us again. Sometimes, the "fit" just wasn't there. I remember one who knew I had five kids, asking me if I knew how to get Luke to latch on...um, sister, I've breastfed five kids. If I haven't figured it out by now, you need to call a counselor.
Interestingly, we've noticed there aren't too many male nurses in peds...in fact, Luke has only had three and they were all great. We had a "Luke Tree" in the NICU where each medical professional that cared for Luke filled out a leaf and affixed it to his tree. I'm kicking myself for not making more leaves for his subsequent stays. Maybe I'll get organized and do it for the next surgery.
From the bottom of my tennis shoes I offer two simple words to each caring nurse that made our journey with Luke that much sweeter...
Thank. You.
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