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.
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