Home again

Waking up in my own room, my old room. Surrounded by abandoned college texts, high school yearbooks, boxes full of notes and letters. The sounds of early morning carved into my bones. The trucks roaring by, the breeze tickling the trees, a distant train horn.

Drinking lots of coffee while taking the morning slow. Silas doing laps in the kitchen while Mom makes blueberry pancakes. Listening to our favorite radio station. Waking up, shaking off last night's wine and soft serve.

Gathering ourselves, slicing watermelon, finding the sunscreen and lifejackets. Ready for a day on Captain's sailboat.

My childhood home. My centering place. Several deep breaths and four days off in a row. Blessed be.

3 Sheets

Alright then...

Just coming back from celebrating. A new place. Completing my first two months with some semblance of grace. Moving onto a new service.

I'm here flying solo for one night. I went out with some girlfriends- enjoyed a night on the town, some champagne and fries and a shake on the way home. Slightly tipsy and looking forward to a single day. A day to sleep in and get breakfast out. Perhaps here or maybe here... then the farmer's market... see about a haircut... and maybe some shopping. I really could use some new underwear... or maybe a nap.

Two months... I've evolved in subtle and profound ways. Dozens of babies. One born in the water, en caul today. Mystical. Some through surgery. Three back-to-back yesterday... and bleeding and dizziness and pain and infection... and babies and more babies. I come home and Silas says, "Babies? Mama catch babies?" What will I tell him of my work in the next two months as I venture to the Emergency Department and the ICU??! No babies. Sick people. Lots and lots of sick people. No babies.

I'm looking forwards to a breath. Maybe two. To four days off in a row to spend with my son and my mother. Some time to gather myself again before more craziness. Before I hear, "Anna! Anna! Anna!... Anna! Anna! Anna!"

And off I go with a belly full of milk shake and fries and champagne. For a night without alarms or 2am toddler wake-ups. A night that could go on until morning. Or afternoon. Many thanks. Much gratitude.

Exhaustion sets in.

5 Minutes

Jena, here we go...

5 minutes. All it takes, right? Somehow this post has been brewing for weeks.

My hand no longer shakes when I am handed the scalpel. It is steady when I grasp the handle. Tremors don't surge through my body when it is my job to stitch, my job to grasp, my job to repair.

My heart is still excited. I am overcome with delight and amazement when a baby makes a safe passage into their life. I wonder at the way women's bodies were born to bear children and how our bodies know just what to do, even when our minds tell us otherwise.

My body is exhausted and I am doing all I can- trying desperately to maintain frienships, maintain my marriage, maintain my motherhood, maintain my house, maintain my family. Sometimes all I do is maintain.

I spend my days watching "strips"- the passage of time measured in contractions, fetal heart rates. I listen well into the night to the fluttering murmurs of babies not yet born. One eye and one ear there at all times... even at this very moment.

I am stepping up, stepping in, learning how.

This might not be beautiful or meaningful... but it exists.

Today I missed a delivery. My first one to miss. It was her fifth and she proudly announced no doctor had ever made it to her delivery. I was defiant and confident. I'd be there. I was there, back turned for a minute to get the instrument tray. She delivered in the bathroom. She caught the head herself. Doctor? Who needs a doctor?

5 minutes. 5 more soon, I hope.