The nurse who helped me through my delivery will have a special place in my heart forever. :) Helping bring babies into the world is what she does all day every day, but not once did I feel like I was an every-day part of her life. I felt special, cared for, and as if the delivery of my baby was as big a deal to her as it was to me.
She was my nurse for a few days back in September when I spent nearly a week in the hospital. She is knowledgeable, a good conversationalist, and definitely a no-nonsense type. While I was there and it was clear that my amniotic fluid level was dropping, she lectured me for about 15 minutes about not drinking enough water. She knew my type - teachers who don't take time for themselves during the school day because they are so busy taking care of everyone else. She said that as a nurse, she was the same, but that I needed to buck up and take time to drink water. :) We also talked about books, about our mutual love of garage sales, and about her son, who is around the same age as my students.
I was excited to see she was assigned to me on Lucy's birthday. She made herself available to answer any questions before the surgery and was so good about explaining things, even down to what would be discussed in the operating room. When I was getting my spinal, I experienced some pain. She was there holding my hands the whole way and "cheering" me on. After Lucy was born and Rick had left with her to head downstairs, she took his place and continued to encourage me. And then she took me off to recovery.
A word about recovery - in my opinion, it is the worst part of a C-section because you have to stay in a room with no one but your nurse while you wonder how your baby is and start to feel the side-effects of the anesthesia (mainly INSANE itching of the face). I definitely dreaded recovery more than surgery. It was in the recovery room that I began to feel nauseous for the first (and only) time all day. I got that feeling you get when you are about to vomit. (Side note: I hate throwing up. I've never met anyone who said they liked it, but I truly believe my hatred and dread of it is more than the average person's. I cry every time I think I might throw up. I hate it.) I said something out loud, and immediately, she was digging in cabinets for wash clothes, running them under cold water, and placing them on my neck. She gave me one of those semi-circle maroon barf-catcher things for good measure, but she said that placing a cold, wet wash cloth on the neck helps keep one from throwing up. (Great tip! I'm happy to know it and will be using this trick on myself and my children in the future.)
Once the nausea passed, my wonderful nurse distracted me by steering the conversation into what she knew was comfortable territory for me, and that was education. She asked my professional advice about an issue at her son's school. It felt really nice to "talk shop" after being gone from work for more than a month.
When 7:00 rolled around, I asked her to please stay and be my night nurse too. She smiled and said she would be back again before I left, and true to her word, she was my nurse again on my last day. But she surprised me by telling me that the talk we had had on Lucy's birthday had inspired and emboldened her with regard to the issue at her son's school and she thanked me. I was touched and pleased, and, as I already had an immense sense of gratitude in my heart for this woman, I was overjoyed to have been able to give her something back.
I think I may have hugged her four times before I left.
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