It's a baby!

I saw two babies delivered today. Even if I weren't so tired, I think words would be beyond me. But I think I do need to at least document it somehow, get my thoughts down, process it a little bit. So here's just my first rehash of the day.

All day I spent following my intern around like a shadow, doing nothing but watching, so when she got a call about some decelerations (slowing of fetal heart rate) in one of our patients, we went to go check it out. 25 minutes later, we had delivered a healthy baby boy by C-section. Everything moved so fast I tried not to get lost or stepped on or compromise the sterile field. Mom was crying. Even though she was a family practice resident, I think everything happened so fast that anyone would have been scared. "Tell my husband I love him" she said through tears right before she went under. And then we had 5 minutes before the anesthesia hit the baby. The second year threw me her ring and said "Give this to someone." Having heard the horror stories of wedding rings in laundry bins from discarded scrubs, I nonetheless tucked it away in my back pocket. There was a lot of blood; I was feeling the hurt mom would feel when she woke up. Halfway through, my senior got me a stool, knowing what it's like to be short. Thank you. When they pulled the head through, it didn't look human and the head was just flopping around. I was relieved when someone else said "That's a big baby!" so I knew I wasn't crazy. The cord was cut and he was thrown into the nurse's arms, finally filling his lungs halfway to the warming table, where the peds residents got to do the fun job. I kept wanting to go over and see the baby. Dad came in and you could see him beaming under the mask. Mom was stitched up and stapled (ouch!) and came out okay, and they wheeled her off. Lots of fanfare, and yet it wasn't even 10 o'clock yet, wasn't even time to check on our next patient.

Patient two was the opposite of quick. It was a 19 year old, "primip" (first pregnancy), and she took all day to get into labor, and then about 3 hours later, she was all tuckered out. I would have been, too, if I had had 7 extra people in the room staring at me in stirrups. Weird. The whole time I kept thinking, she is too young and not ready for this, and the father definitely wasn't ready, he kept smirking and looked like he hadn't graduated high school yet, much less ready to get up for 2 am feedings. We decided to go ahead and do forceps-assisted. I don't know what you think of when you think of forceps, but I was not thinking two huge Pampered-Chef-ice-cream-scoop paddles, and you just put 'em around baby's head and pull down. This baby came out more normal, more like I expected, head, then shoulders, then out. Mom was crying, her mom was crying, baby was crying. Again, a lot of blood. And again, I just wanted to head straight to the warmer and take Apgar scores, but instead I got to stay and see the docs try to make sense of the perineum and stitch it back up. Poor mom just wanted to hold the baby, but we spend 20 minutes sewing her back together. I stood there, waiting for "suture scissors" and then reached in to cut the line. It was a perfect first experience with gowning and gloving and assisting without the surgeon yelling at me (the OB was SUPER nice). And I wasn't even close to passing out for either delivery, until I was in the elevator ready to leave and the adrenaline crashed; then I got a bit light-headed. When they first brought the baby over to see mom, his face was still a little yucky and pale, but he was beautiful, and it was hard to believe that he had only moments before come into the world. You pretty much lose all semblence of privacy or decency when you're pregnant. Between the stretch marks and the fluids and all the doctors and nurses and gloved hands, it's less than ideal. I kept thinking of Christy, all 8 1/2 months and ready to pop and feeling sorry that she would have to go through that, but you just have to pretend it's as routine for you as it is for them (or us, I guess), and know that it is worth it in the end. A brand new little miracle.

And I go back and do it all again tomorrow.

Happy Birthday

9 months ago today, I adopted Luke. At a Sunday Mass at St. Vincent de Paul, we were invited to choose a blue or pink heart with a prayer written on it. By doing so, we spiritually adopted a brand new baby, just beginning its journey in its mother's womb. We were invited to pray this prayer daily for our growing baby, and for his or her family, who was facing the difficult situation of perhaps an unwanted pregnancy. I prayed for Luke (mostly) every day, taping the heart on my bathroom mirror, thinking each day about what new body part or function he was gaining that week, and how he was growing. And today, I trust that through God's grace and not my own offerings, Luke is born, a new miracle. Hopefully to be well-loved by his family, but I know he is well-loved and desired by his Father. And I hope to meet him some day in heaven to know this miracle that I've prayed for for so long.

Falling

I love fall. The smells of pumpkin and leaves and that cold, crisp air that makes you want to stay outside forever and hurry inside for cider or cocoa at the same time. Giant leaves curled on the sidewalk, making you guess which step will make the biggest crunch. Time to pull the hoodies and the hats out again, to snuggle under the electric blanket, to hold the coffee mug with both hands. The first falling flakes of snow, swirling in a silver sky. It makes me want to share it with someone.

Code Blue

"Attention: Code Blue, Outpatient Pavilion, 2nd floor, hallway G. Attention: Code Blue, Outpatient Pavilion, 2nd..." By this time we were out the door and running. No time to stop and ask if we were supposed to come along or what we were to do when we got there. Our team of four was joined by another team by the time we reached the stairwell. No telling how long the elevators would take, so we took the six flights as quickly as we could, picking up a few more responders along the way. It felt like a TV show, the way we dropped everything and started running the second we heard the word "Blue," the way you imagine a fire department responding with a call in the middle of the night. The way we jogged through the hallways, drawing curious glances and easily clearing the path in front of us by our calm urgency. We were on our way to save someone. Don't get in the way. It didn't matter that I had no idea what I would do when we got there. Or that the thought of someone actually needing a code called terrified me. Or that of course the ED and the PICU teams were much closer and already had the situation under control by the time we had traversed what seemed like the entire hospital. I've always thought that I couldn't do critical care because I don't like not knowing what's coming through the door, but my first code thrilled me. Experience will teach me the way to respond-the right drugs to use, the correct techniques for intubation and starting an IV, the protocol of a code. But the emergency itself was exciting. I found myself wishing we could do it every day, which makees me excited to do the ED and our critical care rotations. Either way, I'm in the coolest career field ever.