The Kindness of Others

The Christmas season brings out a lot of different emotions and mindsets in people. Some get greedy, and all they can focus on is what they want under the tree. Some feel guilty because they cannot afford to buy the kinds of presents they want for their family members. Others, including myself and other baby loss parents are just praying they get through the holidays without more heartbreak and pain. However, it is those that exhibit the true meaning of Christmas that warm my heart and give me hope for the new year.

I have officially received my first donations to Roses from Rosalynn. I have mentioned before the wonderful people I work with, and how much I enjoy my job because of them. I also mentioned how one of the nurses commended me on how I have turned my loss into something worthy of praise and respect. This strong minded, funny and beautiful woman donated a bag full of goodies to my project, my ministry. She handed me a bag with an array of different items. There were adorable onesies, hats, and socks. She included lotions and powders that I am sure it did not go unnoticed by her that the brand name of the bathing supplies is "Angel of Mine". I was ecstatic as I peered into the bag and thought of the smiles the parents would have when they too realized what they would be giving their first bath with. This generous woman is quiet compared to a lot of the women I work with, she has had her own struggles in life, and has become and amazingly strong woman because of them. This is just another example of how when she does do or say something, there is substance behind it, and this simple act of kindness warmed me to the core.

Today I was handed a envelope by another angel in scrubs. This particular nurse has been an inspiration to me since the day I joined the ER team. Her and one other young nurse were two of the most compassionate, loving, Christian-like women I have ever known. The second nurse joined mission work and has been traveling for the past 2 years, however, the first stayed behind and has brightened our sometimes dark, stressful workplace. Her smile and laugh is contagious and she never has an ill word to say about anyone, including some of the shady people that come through our doors. Her faith in God inspired me, and for 3 years I have enjoyed listening and talking to her about Christ and scripture, friendship and love.

When I read the outside of the envelope that she handed me, it said that I inspired HER! I uttered an ironic laugh in my head, because if she only knew..... (well, she knows now if she or someone at work figures out who I am talking about). In a time of year where people are scraping together money for gifts for their loved ones, and still trying to pay bills, her and her husband wanted to make a donation to my ministry. To say I was appreciative was an understatement. Had she handed me the envelope in a more private place, there would have been tears, but I have learned how to hide them and unfortunately all she got was the generic "Thank You", a hug, and a smile, because if she could see how I was truly feeling on the inside, I was bursting, and the thank you would probably have been a lot more emotional. However, she was close to tears herself, so maybe it was good I held back in front of everyone.

The Kindness of others is what has made me feel completely full filled this season. I could go to Christmas with my family this year, and if there isn't a single present under that tree for me, I will still be satisfied, because what these women have done. I am so happy that with these items and money, I will be able to contribute more to families who are suffering in their hearts and whose world has been flipped upside down this Christmas Season.

Thank You Thank You Thank You ladies, from the bottom of my heart!!!

(Oh, and Mom, don't think I have forgotten your donations, that is a whole separate post! I promise:-)

Real Life Stories of the ER

I had an interesting encounter at work the other night. I was walking a patient back to their room from triage. As I started getting him set up in his room, he was pacing and asked me a question. I could not understand what he had asked me through his mumbling, so I turned towards him and simply responded, "Excuse me?" No attitude, no inflection in my voice that would indicate any disrespect. I was simply wanting him to repeat himself, because I didn't understand him the first time.

He looked at me like I had called him a bad name, or had just killed his dog. The look of rage in his eyes was powerful, "I asked for something to drink. Geez B**** do I have to repeat myself?"

"Yes sir, I didn't understand what you had asked. I was wanting clarification," I was keeping my voice even toned and sweet, because he was obviously agitated, and although he had called me a name, I was trying not to let it phase me. I have been called every name in the book working in the ER, and although I don't think anyone should call a stranger trying to help a b****, at least he wasn't propositioning me like the psych hold we had that same evening (I will get to that later).

He replied with some rude muttering under his breath, and I proceeded to tell him that I needed him to change into a gown and have a seat, that the doctor would be in shortly. He continued to be angry with me, and his agitation was escalating. I asked him if there had been something I did to offend him, and then he went on and on about how rude I was. His mother was standing right there and was trying to tell him to relax and "Leave her alone, she is just trying to help you and YOU are the one being rude."

When I left, I took my seat back out at the triage desk, and went about my business. I warned the nurse and doctor that he was a little rude and seemed very excitable, so to tread lightly. While I was sitting in triage, the patients mother came out. She stepped up to the desk with an apologetic look on her face, "I just wanted to explain to you why he is in such a bad mood."

"Okay," I replied. honestly, I don't think ANY reason is good enough to treat another human being like crap, but I decided to hear her out.

"His son died in March," She said. I looked at her with a blank stare, and she looked back at me expecting an understanding response of some sort.

After a pause to word my response properly, I said, "Well, I lost my daughter back in April, and I do not use that as an excuse to treat a human being disrespectfully."

I could tell that was NOT the response she expected. She seemed to be taken aback, and quickly started stumbling over her words, "Well, he was murdered by his step-father. He was five years old."

"I am very sorry ma'am,I understand too well the feelings after the loss of a child, I lost my infant daughter. I understand it is painful, but is not other people's fault it happened. Your son did not kill my daughter, so I do not treat him like crap. I did not kill your grandson, so there is no need for your son to treat me like crap."

"She was an infant, he was five," I could not believe she was actually trying to compare losses. One is no worse than the other. They were both loved children no matter what age they were.

"Ma'am, I am not going to argue over which experience was worse. I do not feel you need to apologize for your son's behavior. If he wants to apologize, he can. I am very sorry for both of your loss, but if he is still this angry, and lashes out at complete strangers, he may want to start talking to a professional or a grief counselor," It became really apparent to her quickly that I was the WRONG person in the ER to look for pity and acceptance. She was unaware when she approached me that I was a fellow baby-loss parent. I really do feel bad for the family. It breaks my heart that they have to endure such a horrifying situation, and have to live with the pain of losing a child. However, I stand by my conviction that my pain does not give me a reason or the right to take it out on any other human being. I have no idea where they have been in their life, I have no clue if they have endured something similar. I just take out all of my frustration on Foster, because I KNOW what he has been through! Just kidding. In this instance, this patient was treating someone who had gone through a similar loss, albeit not a murder, with total disrespect. He had no clue where life had taken me, and now he was inadvertently hurting someone who he could have related to and shared a mutual understanding of loss with, even if just for a moment.

A few hours later, I happened to be walking by their room when he was being discharged. When his mother was around the corner, I tapped the man on the shoulder. as he turned, his features and demeanor had changed, "Oh ma'am, I feel so much better."

"Good," I said, "I am glad they took care of you. I wanted to tell you that I am terribly sorry for the loss of your son."

I watched as his eyes welled up, and his features turned soft, "How did you know?"

"Your mom told me about it. I wanted to let you know that I kind of know what you are going through. I lost my daughter in April."

"You did!?!?!?! Oh, I am soooooo sorry how I treated you. I had no idea," he came up to me, wrapped his arms around me and gave me a hug. He started to sob, "I feel so bad, I wish I would have known. Are you still trying to come to terms with it?"

"Absolutely, I have a feeling I will be for the rest of my life. The death of a child is something that no parent should ever be expected to 'get over'," I explained to him. "However, this instance is a prime example of why you shouldn't take your anger out on strangers, I have gone through the same thing. You never know what the person you are talking to has gone through," We continued to talk about our children, I suggested different support groups and therapy options for him. He admitted that he felt guilty that he did not spend more time with his son and was an absentee father for the first 2 years of his life. He expressed his fear of having other children because he didn't want the guilt that he would treat them better than he treated his first son. I consoled him, and told him if that is the lesson that he got out of the death of his child, that it was a great one, because now he would treat all subsequent children as if they were not guaranteed another day on this planet. We parted with another hug, and an unspoken bond of child loss.
Now, onto my darling psychiatric patient who propositioned me. When I arrived at work that evening, I was pulled aside by a nurse. She explained to me that this patient had been asking about me all day. Not just asking about me, demanding to see me so he could talk about his problems with me. When we receive a psychiatric patient, we are required to hold them and have one on one supervision for that patient until we can either find him a bed at on of the psych clinics, or release them 72 hours later. I was one of the first to take care of him yesterday, but how he knew my name I am baffled by. When I took over care for him, he was sleeping. He never saw me, never spoke to me, and was never in close enough proximity to read my name tag. Now, there were a few times that he woke up and sat at the edge of his bed and stared at me through possessed looking eyes, but the door was shut, and we never really had any interaction. he would get bored of staring at me after 5 minutes, and go back to bed.

So while I was trying to unravel the enigma of how he knew my name, and why of everyone he was asking for me, I realized I had to take care of him again. I walked up to his room, and found him in a Halidol induced sleep. I was hoping upon hope that he would remain like that for the four hours I had to watch him. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. About thirty minutes into my watch, he stood up and started staring at me through the glass door. I was once again creeped out. He started moving his lips, and since I couldn't hear him behind the glass, I slid the door open, "Do you need something hun?"

His half hearted smile turned into a devious grin. He honestly looked like he was about to pounce. I backed up a few steps to keep a few feet between us, and heard him whisper, "Do you want to suck my ****?"

"EXCUSE ME?!?! No sir, I do not, and I would like you to get back into bed and lay down," I was appalled and disgusted, but kept in mind that he was mentally disturbed.

He lifted up his gown to reveal an unimpressive "package", and started creeping closer to me, "I said suck my ****!"

I quickly closed the glass door in order to keep him in the room and out of my personal space. As I held the door closed, I called out for security because he was struggling violently to open the door. He won in the end, and as the door slid open, he ran down the hall with all of his glory flapping in front while his naked butt hung out the back. I was able to grab an arm before he got too far, but why I didn't just let him run is beyond me. One of the males grabbed his other arm, and we escorted him back to his room where security proceeded to put him back in bed, and wait for the nurse to give him another shot of the "medicated restrains", aka, more Halidol.

It was actually kind of scary. For once, I actually felt threatened by this man, and really really creeped out. Obviously we figured out WHY he had been asking for me. He obviously has a thing for red heads, and thought I could fulfill his fantasy, or maybe he is just loony.

These are just a few of the lovely examples of what it is like on a daily basis at my job. At least I can say one thing, it keeps things interesting!!!

His Mysterious Ways

I walked into work yesterday and took my seat at the ER desk. I was put on light duty when the bleeding started in the second trimester, and remain on the desk until I feel I am strong enough physically and emotionally to go back on the ER floor. Honestly, I think the physical part of me will be ready before the emotional. You never know what you will run into on the floor, babies, abused women, pregnant women, etc., and it can get VERY stressful. Although I seem to be pretty emotionally stable to most, the truth is I get emotional very easily, just ask Foster. At this point, I am not sure how I would handle an immense amount of stress, so I am happy to keep my butt at the desk for as long as my boss allows me. Also, I like the fact that I can kind of "escape" and not talk to anyone if I don't want to while I am working as the Unit Clerk and can escape into my thoughts.

Well, I was sitting there when a familiar face walked up in scrubs. I had to do a double take because I am used to seeing this same face in Army combat uniform (ACUs). "Ray" is a fellow soldier who happens to be in my National Guard Unit. He and I have hit it off as friends because not only are we in the same unit, but we also endured the torture of ROTC at Ohio State together. For those of you who are not familiar with the military jargon, ROTC is Officer training that you participate in while you are in college.

When I realized who I was looking at I was surprised and happy to see him. "Where did you come from?" Ray asked.

"I have been working here for almost 3 years, where did YOU come from?" I responded. Apparently he was recently hired while I was gone for my 6 week leave.

All of the sudden his smile dropped, and he started apologizing, "I am so sorry, I am so sorry."
To most, this would appear to be his way of showing his condolences, but what my other coworkers did not realize, is that Ray and I had had a really serious conversation the day before Rosie passed.

Sunday of my drill weekend, I was as big as a house and sitting on one of the chairs in the common room with my swollen feet elevated as high as I could get them. Ray sat down beside me, "Hey Finny," he greeted using my nickname amongst my fellow soldiers, "how are you feeling lately?"

"Pretty good," I replied, "Obviously a lot of swelling, but the baby and I are doing well, thanks."

"Will you do me a favor?" He asked, "Keep close track of your kicks and the baby's movement."

"Sure," I said, "But why the concern?"

"I just witnessed a 36 week baby pass in its mother's womb. She had noticed a decrease in movement, and when she came in they could not find the baby's heartbeat. It was heartbreaking, and it made me realize that even this far the baby is still not 'in the clear'," he explained.

"That is awful! I cannot even imagine," I exclaimed. "I don't know what I would do," I said as I rubbed my hand protectively over my belly.

Now he was apologizing for this conversation, as if he had jinxed me, "Oh hun! Don't be sorry. After our conversation, I was so attentive to all of Rosie's movements. If it had not been for your advice, I may not have realized as quickly as I did that something was wrong. Thank you." I tried to put him at ease.

"Thank you? Are you serious? Ever since I heard the news all I kept thinking about is that conversation, and have felt so bad," he said.

"Please don't. It is not your fault."

"I am so sorry for your loss," Ray said as he gave me a quick hug.

It is funny, because just like Ray, I have thought back to the talk we had many times, and kept thinking about how I never imagined that I would be going through the same pain that the mother he had mentioned is. I also wondered what I would do if I was that mother. Well, I now am that mother, and I am dealing. It is amazing how much strength God gives us, and it is true, he does not ever give us more than we can handel. This story is just another example of the ways I believe God was preparing me and warning me that something was going to happen. God sure does work in mysterious ways!

Back to Work

Today marks the day I return to work. For those of you who do not already know, I work as an Emergency Room Tech. This sounds like, and is, a very exciting job. I love the people I work with, and love the job I do. So why am I so nervous about returning?

Lets just say that the last seven weeks of my life have drastically changed me. Some friends and family would say that I am strong, that I seem like I am coping well. This is semi-true. I am doing everything I know to cope with the multiple losses I have endured in the past 7 weeks. I have joined support groups, set up a scholarship in Rosie's name, and am getting involved with a group dedicated to helping women going through the loss of their child. I have written blogs to express my emotions, and when I have needed to, I have cried in private. Foster expressed it this way, "Today marks the day that our lives officially start to go back to normal." I don't know if this is entirely true. I don't think my life will ever go back to "normal". My world was rocked on April 20th 2010, and highly doubt it will ever be the same again. There was my life before that date, and my life after, and that will always be the pivotal moment.

I remember one particular moment while working I will never forget. I was working on the desk, and a woman was wheeled in seven and a half months pregnant. She was having major pains and the baby seemed to be in distress. The staff was working to get her transferred to the main branch of our hospital that is more capable of dealing with OB medicine. I was so nervous for her. I found out her due date was only a week before mine. I thought and prayed for her the rest of the night. I prayed that she and her baby would be healthy and safe. This nameless patient jerked me back into reality, that that could be me. Little did I know that it WOULD be me, only when they checked my baby, she would not be in distress, she had already gone up to heaven.

Going back to work scares me for a number of reasons. When I step onto that floor, it is eight to twelve hours surrounded by people the entire time. Eight to twelve hours of not being able to nap when I want to, get away and cry if I want to, and eight to twelve hours away from my husband and the comfort of my own home. For those of you who have known me at all prior to April 20th may be confused, because this does not sound like the old Erin. The new Erin likes the comfort of her home, the feeling of safety I get from being around Foster. I feel that if anything happens, as long as he is there, I will be okay. Obviously he can't go to work with me, so I will have to go it alone. The privacy at work is non existent. Unlike my home, I can't hide away and cry when I want to. I will have to keep my emotions in check for eight to twelve hours.

I may be completely overreacting. I could just be working myself up, and I will be just fine at work tonight. Maybe it will be a great distraction, and allow me to focus on something else. However, a small part of me feels like this is abandoning my child. I feel like if I am moving on, that I will be moving away from her. Once again, I know this is ridiculous, but these are the thoughts that go through my head. There is nothing that can happen, short of a total brain injury, that will cause me to forget Rosie. Life has to move on. Life has been moving on without me for the last seven weeks, and now is the time for me to jump back in and join the world again.

I am nervous about are all the questions. Working in the medical world, everyone wants to know the how's and why's of the situation. Prior to this weekend, I think I was emotionally stable enough to deal with all of the questions. However, with the passing of Mama JJ, more wounds are wide open and my emotions are on edge once again. I also know there will be numerous questions about Mama JJ, because so many of the nurses and staff were praying for her and her family. I just pray that I can be strong and explain what happened without breaking out into tears.


The last thing I am afraid of is all the babies. We have a pregnant Doctor, two nurses who gave birth to their daughters shortly before I lost Rosie, and one woman in x-ray that not only had her baby right before mine, but was a patient with my doctor and I saw her in the office numerous times. I am not looking forward to the pregnant women that come in to be checked. A lot of them do not take care of themselves. They drink, are on drugs, and have no prenatal care. It angers me to see women put their children at risk. Some of them come in and admit they do not want their children. I am afraid I may have problems keeping my mouth shut. those of you who know me in real life, know I can have a mouth on me, and I don't always think before I speak.


I have one consolation, my coworkers. They are a diverse assortment of personalities. There are ones who make me laugh and the ones who inspire me. We all care about each other, and are like one dysfunctional family. I have grown so much over the past few years with this amazing group of people. They helped keep me positive while Foster was deployed, they prayed for my family while we have gone through numerous tragedies this year, and I am sure they will help me ease back into the world that seems so overwhelming to me right now. I am sure there will be hugs, and tears, but I am sure, there will be smiles and laughter too. Look out ER, here I come!