Dreams

A few weeks ago I finished my rotation in the NICU for my summer synthesis. I've tried several times since then to sit down and write about it, but haven't been able to yet. Even now as I type this, I have tears streaming down my face - tears of gratitude, tears of sadness, tears because I'm so overwhelmed with the opportunity I had to fulfill a life-long dream. But how do you put all of that into words? I feel so inadequate to do so, and yet I have to try. It's something that has become so much a part of me that it can't go undocumented. So here's my best shot.

I have very mixed feelings about it being over, mostly erring on the side of being verklempt. It was, quite literally, a dream come true for me to work there, so I am more than a little sad to see it end. I had extremely high expectations going in to it, and the entire experience far exceeded my wildest dreams. Isn't it amazing when reality goes so far beyond what you could ever hope for? Those moments are rare and precious and life-changing.

First of all, there's the staff. They are some of the funniest, most caring, knowledgeable people I've ever met. I got to work with two preceptors (nurses I worked under) and I could not have hand-picked better people to work with. I won't share their names on this blog since I have not gotten their permission to do so, but I wish that I could. I wish that each of you could get to know them because your life would be better for it. I know mine is. They accepted me unquestioningly and made me feel like I made a valuable contribution to the medical team. They guided me and encouraged me and praised me, even when I felt inadequate for their love and praise. They took me under their wing and gave me some perfect examples of the kind of nurse I want to become. I truly can't express how blessed I feel to have been under their tutelage.

And then there are the patients. They are unlike any other patients you could ever have. There is no way to prepare yourself for what you'll feel while working in the NICU. It's more than a little heartbreaking to work with these tiny infants when it seems like all odds are against them. And then you see their little personalities and their fight to live and it makes you appreciate every second you have on this earth, even the hard ones. Those tiny fingers that wrap themselves around yours and suddenly you're hooked. Even though you know that they'll eventually go home and you may never see them again, you can't help but become attached to them, to their families. They are these strong, miraculous little beings who you would do anything in the world for. You begin to recognize their cues, their likes and dislikes, their preferred positioning. Even though they can't use words, they still communicate with you if you pay attention. And when they are discharged, even though you feel sad to see them go, you mostly feel happy because you see that there is good in the work you do and that it does make a difference in these peoples lives. They thank you profusely for your help, but all you want to do is thank them for their strength, for allowing you to be a part of this journey of theirs, and for the trust and love they show you. And it makes all of the long, challenging, heartbreaking days worth every second.

There is so much more I could write about. I could write about my two primary patients, a baby born at 25 weeks and another at 26 weeks. I could write about the respiratory therapists, physical therapists, ophthalmologists and other medical professionals I had the pleasure to associate with. I could write about the wonderful sense of community among all of the staff on the floor, how everyone watches out for one another. I could write about the crazy-long days where we didn't get to lunch until 4:00. I could talk about how fulfilling it is to care for people who physically cannot care for themselves, to make a difference, however small, in their lives. And maybe I will write about those things, some day. But for today, I just want to say that I am grateful. Grateful and sad. Grateful for this experience and the ability I had to make my dreams come true and the fact that I loved it more than I could have imagined, and sad because it's over. But also hopeful. Hopeful because I have a lifetime left in which I can continue to make my dreams come true. And that is a beautiful thing.