May 6, 2013: My interview at the Children’s Hospital for a position in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU).
May 9, 2013: Offered and accepted the position at the Children’s Hospital.
June 14, 2013: I graduated and was pinned as a Bachelor of Nursing Science (BSN).
July 16, 2013: I took the National Council Licensure Examination (NCLEX).
July 19, 2013: I officially became a Registered Nurse (RN).
August 5, 2013: My first day at the Children’s Hospital…
I can remember the drive to work on August 5th so clearly. Per usual, I left forty-five minutes early for my projected seven-minute drive. As I was waiting at the red light at the intersection of La Veta and the 22 Freeway off-ramp, I remember thinking to myself, “I am an adult, driving in my own car, by myself, no mom or dad, to my dream job. This is really happening… there’s no turning back.” The first couple of weeks of the RN residency program, I was just grappling with the idea that I could take care of myself now. Sure, I was pretty independent throughout high school and college, but now I could pay for more than food; I have a retirement plan at twenty-two years of age! I felt like I was in a dream world, but no, I was really working at a top children’s hospital with my favorite people, babies. Once our preceptorship started, I was forced to deal with reality and just accept that I’m not only responsible for myself but for the lives of little loved ones.
Infants do not get sick and they do not die. In a perfect world, this would be the case. However, with poverty, poor education, lack of prenatal care, disease, genetic anomalies, and other evils of this world, the necessity for my dream career came about. But how can I say that this, taking care of sick children, is my dream career? I am a nurse. I can focus on the fact that my income is made on other people’s sickness and sadness, but that is not why I stand here today, proud to be an RN. No, my pride comes from knowing that every day I not only have the opportunity to make a difference in others’ lives, but I seize it. I am not only a nurse, but also a teacher, healer, nanny, and friend, all in one.
When I cross the bridge from the parking structure to the hospital, I can feel this weight building on my shoulders. I think about the new people I will have to work with, the new babies, the new diagnoses, the parents, the doctors, the residents. This weight is fear; fear of the unknown. It is the kind that keeps me in line. It is the fear that there is more that I could be doing; the fear that I could be doing better. It keeps me on my toes, always asking questions and studying. This is not a fear of weakness; it is one that produces strength. As weeks have gone by, the weight has started lifting. However, I dread the day that the weight completely disappears. The day that I believe I am done, that I have learned all that I can, that day will be my downfall.
Day in and day out, there is one mantra that plays out in my mind: home, happy, and healthy. My goal for each of my patients is that one day they can be at home with their loving families, growing up to be happy and healthy children. Upon admission, I watch as fathers accompany their new child into our unit. This was never part of their plan, to be standing alone next to a clear box with their tiny child within. Where is their wife? Why isn’t she holding her child? Where are all the happy delivery room memories? That moment when mothers see their child in the NICU, for the first time since birth, I witness the tears, guilt, anger, happiness, and sadness. You see it all in that first touch when she reaches over and caresses his or her face, when she holds her child for the first time since they were whisked away. I watch love grow right before my eyes as parents bond with these new lives they have created. At discharge, I cannot contain my joy. Having watched these babies fight for their lives for this very moment, I am thankful we were able to get so far in their healthcare. It is the knowing that these children are going home, to the place they should have been weeks or months before, to the place where they will be loved and nurtured for the years to come; it is knowing this that gets my tears flowing.
What about the young ones that never make it home? I try to convince myself that sometimes it is the best outcome for the patient and the parents to not live in pain and disability for the rest of their lives, but there is always that child who was in the womb for the perfect amount of time, who looks healthy and seemingly perfect from the outside. The sadness is derived from that one untreatable defect, maybe in the heart, the brain, or the gut. Why does this beautiful child have to go? Why do these parents leave the hospital empty-handed when they expected a plus one, two, three, etc? I may never know why, but I can try and be strong. Is this not why I became a nurse? To be strong for others in their greatest time of need? It is. That is why I shall carry on and continue to live, learn, and love neonatal nursing.
Preemie Donna 