wife.mom.nurse

Kid Quote of the Week

2009-11-13T16:38:00.000-08:00

I forgot to give Scout his antibiotic this morning before school. So, I decided that I would drop by the middle school and give it to him. (You know, since I am a nurse, that I am concerned about contributing to resistant bacteria!)

Anyhoo, I called Scout out of class. I didn’t know if that would make him look super uncool.

So, here is our afterschool conversation:

Me: Was it embarrassing for you when I came to give you your antibiotic?

Scout: Yeah, why did you have to come wearing sweats?

Ha! He was embarrassed by my attire to drop something by school. That just cracks me up

11 on 11/11

2009-11-11T08:18:00.000-08:00

It's official-She's 11!

We just love trick candles!

We've had a ton of fun celebrating the Princess' birthday!

*Disneyland last week

*The birthday dinner yesterday
Sometimes you celebrate special occasions
on different days when you have a firedaddy

*Pizza, yummy cake, and rootbeer
(No, that is not a beer bottle in front of my girl :)

No more flu! I thought I'd mention that since the Lysol wipes were next to the cake. LOL!

Oh and the Princess made her own cake!!!

Easiest ice cream cake in the entire world:

What you will need:
Use a 9x13 pan
24 ice sandwiches cream
8 oz tub of whipped topping (think coolwhip)
(I used store brands for the sandwiches and whip and they worked perfectly)
Crushed Oreos
(I didn't want cookies left over so I bought the 4 oz To-Go mini cookie pack)

Place one layer of ice cream sandwiches on the bottom of the pan
Spread on a layer of whipped topping
Place a second layer of ice cream sandwiches
Spread the top layer of whipped topping
Sprinkle on the layer of crushed Oreos
Keep in freezer until ready to serve

Shhhhhhh don't tell how you did it...let them think you slaved for hours!

Firehubby says that I shouldn't buy Baskin Robbins ice cream cakes for his birthday anymore. He thought it was that delish! Sorry Baskin Robbins!

Thanks Mom and Auntie El for the recipe

Stories From the Delivery Room-Elijah's Story

2009-11-10T01:21:00.000-08:00

“Push,” the doctor said gently, “You can do it. Give me a little bigger push.”

Pulling back on her legs and tucking her chin to her chest, my patient gave a little more effort to her last push and a tiny baby slipped into the doctors hands.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor announced with sadness in his voice.

The baby did not move or cry, or even breathe. The only evidence that she was alive was the beating of her miniscule heart, rhythmically pulsating beneath her thin chest wall.

The doctor gingerly placed the extremely premature baby into the warm blanket I was holding. There would be no rescuscitation of this infant, as she was too small, born much too early to have any chance of survival.

“Would you like to hold your baby?” I softly asked the sobbing mother and father. The mother, reaching her hands towards her baby, answering my question without words.

“Okay. Now, give me another push,” the doctor said calmly.

With tears streaming down her face and her baby cradled in her arms, she lifted her head off the bed, doing her best to curl over her abdomen and gave another push. The silence of the room was broken as she let out a grunting sound and then a cry of anguish.

Looking down between her legs, I saw another baby emerge into the doctor’s awaiting hands.

The frail baby was placed into the warmth of the awaiting blanket. It was a girl. She lay motionless in my hands. I brought her closer to the bright delivery light that pierced the dimness of the room and notice that there was the slight motion on the left side of her chest.

“She is alive also” I informed the parents, as I brought the baby to the mother’s chest. I carefully unwrapped the first baby and reunited the tiny infants, comforting them in the same blanket.

A little over 5 months before,these two baby girls were conceived by in-vitro fertilization. After failing to become pregnant with two prior rounds of IVF, the fertility specialist had convinced the parents to transfer four embryos. He and the couple were disappointed that the embryo quality was not optimal. None the less, the idea of transferring four embryos made my patient and her husband anxious, they only wanted to become pregnant with a single baby, or worse case scenario twins. The doctor informed the couple that he was not optimistic that any of the embryos would implant.

To the surprise of everyone, my patient did indeed become pregnant. But the first ultrasound brought heartache. The ultrasound showed one baby, then two…then a third baby. Three babies! This was completely unacceptable. This was not supposed to happen. The embryo quality had been poor. If they had known that they could possibly become pregnant with triplets, they would have never allowed four embryos to be transferred.

The couple went home devastated. There was no way that they wanted to have three babies. Yet, this pregnancy was so difficult to conceive in the first place, so abortion was out of the question.

For weeks and weeks they discussed what they could do. How could they handle this problem? The ultrasound showed that they were having two girls and a boy. Finally, around 17 weeks into the pregnancy they had come upon a solution that worked for them.

They would end the life of one of the girls.

Although fetal reduction is usually done at 9 to 13 weeks, the patient and her husband found a clinic that accepted them for reduction of the triplet. They desperately wanted to be parents, and they decided that a girl and a boy would be acceptable.

So, the termination was performed by injecting the baby’s heart with potassium chloride.

But, there was a major complication to the procedure. The doctor had accidentally terminated their boy and not their girl.

Over the next weeks the patient and her husband had come to terms with the thought of having two girls. They just wanted healthy babies.

The next crisis was soon to follow. Premature labor started and despite intensive efforts, my patient had delivered her two baby girls.

The babies lay silently in their mothers arms. Both parents were weeping over their lost babies, their lost dreams.

“Okay. One last push now.” The doctor encouraged.

The stillborn baby boy delivered. He was much smaller than his sisters and his little body had begun to deteriorate inside the womb.

Before the birth, I had given the patient options on how we could care for her baby boy. I could bring the baby to her chest right away to hold. Or the baby could be brought behind the partition temporarily and then I could take a moment to look over the baby. At that time I would return to them and describe the baby. If they were up to it they would see him, or I could take him from the room. The final option was for me to take the baby directly out of the room.

Now that the baby was born, I cradled him in my hands, covered by the blanket.

“Would you like to see your boy?” I asked.

“No,” the husband said quickly, “Take him from the room.”

Opening the door, I flagged down another nurse and asked her to stand by while I took the baby boy to a utility room.

Quickly returning to the patient’s bedside, I helped her create memories of her little girls. While she held them, I took footprints and slipped tiny handmade baby bracelets onto their delicate ankles. The parents held their babies together as I took family photographs. They kissed and cherished their baby girls.

About two hours later the baby’s heartbeats slowed and stopped. The girls had died.

After providing comfort to my patient and insuring she was stable, I went to the utility room to attend to the baby boy. It was important to me that he was treated with the same dignity as his sisters. Over the next twenty minutes I bathed him, powdered him and dressed him in a tiny handmade gown. His little feet made perfect prints with ink onto white paper. Pressing clay into a seashell, I prepared for an impression of his foot. Then I took his picture as he was cradled in my hand.

Returning to the patient’s bedside, I told she and her husband that I had cared for their son. They declined the mementos that I had made. The same mementos that were made for their baby girls earlier, in their presence.

This surprised and frankly saddened me. Some parents have a difficult time seeing their baby after death. But the parents had held their little girls for hours after they had died. I could not understand why they had rejected the baby boy’s mementos.

A couple of days later, I learned that my patient and her husband had chosen to bury their baby girls and give them a funeral. They had left the baby boy with pathology to be disposed of with the other specimens in the hospital.

It was the final straw for me. How could this baby, who had once been so cherished, be thrown away. How could he not be honored, recognized…loved?

It just broke my heart.

Ultimately, none of us will know what was in their mind...

My thought is this...if they acknowledged the child's life, they would have to face that they had a hand in his death.

That day I went home and asked Brian if he would agree to adopt a special baby boy.

We named him Elijah.

He is our son.

With a Grateful Heart

2009-11-07T12:48:00.000-08:00

My boy is has turned the corner and is doing much better.

Things I am thankful for today:

God, in so many ways, but especially for answer to prayer
~
The improved health of my son
~
Continued health of my family and myself
~
Support and prayers of my family
~
Support and prays of my blog friends and friends in real life :)
~
Excellent, responsive medical professionals
~
Tamiflu-I attribute the significant decrease in his symptom so quickly to getting this in his system about 12 hours after the onset of his symptoms. (He went from seemingly well to very ill within 7 hours)
~
Flu.gov in helping me manage my boy’s illness at home

Here is how I managed his flu at home, we are an at-risk (asthmatic) family, so it was important that we took good flu precautions:

First of all this link helped me tremendously:

http://www.cdc.gov/h1n1flu/guidance_homecare.htm

He was in his bedroom for 2 days with me (either 6 feet away or with a mask) as his only caregiver, in order to prevent flu transmission to the rest of the family.

I am allowing him free range of the house again as his fever has been below 100.7 for 24 hours. He will have significant reduction in his viral shed now.

“CDC recommends that you stay home for at least 24 hours after your fever (100°F or 37.8°C) is gone except to get medical care or for other things you have to do and no one else can do for you. (Your fever should be gone without the use of a fever-reducing medicine, such as Tylenol®.) You should stay home from work, school, travel, shopping, social events, and public gatherings.”

He will still need to cough and sneeze into tissues, have good hand hygeine, and stay out of my kitchen (my rule) until he has full resolution of symptoms.

*Although my son did have a flu, it is not certain that it was H1N1. He was treated as if he had H1N1, but individual confirmations are not being done. I will be getting my son the H1N1 vaccine as soon as he is well and it is available. My family is in the high risk group for complications for H1N1. We will all be vaccinated.

Here is a link to help you know if it is a cold or a flu:

http://flu.gov/individualfamily/about/symptoms/index.html

Because I am a heath care provider I received my H1N1 vaccine yesterday- It will help me to protect my vulnerable family and my pregnant patients by helping me to avoid the H1N1 flu, once my H1N1 immunity is established (2 weeks according to flu.gov)

Are you at risk?

People at High Risk for Developing Flu-Related Complications

Children younger than 5, but especially children younger than 2 years old
Adults 65 years of age and older
Pregnant women

People who have medical conditions including:

Asthma
Neurological and neurodevelopmental conditions [including disorders of the brain, spinal cord, peripheral nerve, and muscle such as cerebral palsy, epilepsy (seizure disorders), stroke, intellectual disability (mental retardation), moderate to severe developmental delay, muscular dystrophy, or spinal cord injury].
Chronic lung disease (such as chronic obstructive pulmonary disease [COPD] and cystic fibrosis)
Heart disease (such as congenital heart disease, congestive heart failure and coronary artery disease)
Blood disorders (such as sickle cell disease)
Endocrine disorders (such as diabetes mellitus)
Kidney disorders
Liver disorders
Metabolic disorders (such as inherited metabolic disorders and mitochondrial disorders)
Weakened immune system due to disease or medication (such as people with HIV or AIDS, or cancer, or those on chronic steroids)

Prayer Request

2009-11-05T19:57:00.000-08:00

Please pray for our family.

Scout (who has asthma) has very rapidly come down with a cough, some shortness of breath (not extreme, but enough to require Albuterol nebulizer), congestion and a fever.

He has been to the doc and is on the full regimen: antivirals, antibiotics, steroids... I have isolated him to his bedroom. Of course, he will have Nurse Mom quite close to him at all times.

6 years ago, the Princess (also asthmatic) was hospitalized with complications of the seasonal flu. Please pray that she will not get it.

Also, with my new asthma diagnosis I am praying not to get it either. The hospital just got the H1N1 vaccine in 24 hours ago and started shot clinics today. I hope to go in tomorrow and get mine. Only peds and ob nurses are eligible at this time at our institution.

Thanks for your prayers.

Here's the DL-I'm a Bad (Awesome) Mother

2009-11-05T07:43:00.000-08:00

You all know that I spent time in jail.

Well, this time it's even more serious.

I am a criminal.

I blatantly broke the law on Tuesday.

I did not take my children to school.

Instead we went…

Here’s a hint…

Yes, to Disneyland!!!

On Veteran’s Day the princess will have her 11^th birthday.

The soon-to-be birthday girl wanted to go to Disneyland.

A few years ago we went on her birthday and it was SOLD OUT.

Weekends are a nightmare at DL.

So, we committed the crime!

Look at the fun we had…The (soon to be) birthday girl :)

Can you believe how empty it was.

The most we waited to go on a ride was 10 minutes!

Now That's one crazy kid!

It was a wonderful day at Disneyland!

My Own Little Paradise

2009-11-02T22:31:00.000-08:00

Once again I am joining Rachel and Mr. Daddy at Once Upon a Miracle for True Story Tuesday. Pop on over there for some great stories.

When I moved to Hawaii for the second time, as a staff nurse, not a traveling nurse,

I decided that I was going to live right.

No apartment with snotty old roommates,

no riding the bus,

no more hitchhiking

(just kidding).

So, I shipped my car over and went in search of the best darn place I could find.

You know the real estate saying…

Location, location, location.

Well, I took that seriously!

I got a place at the base of beautiful

Diamond Head.

It was so lovely there.

Lush tropical setting.

My own private beach.

(Yes, I am serious)

Well, actually I did share it with a few neighbors, but it was MINE!

And I had rich and famous neighbors .

Like a guy who played dorky G.P. on the Andy Griffith show.

We had dinner parties

(Ok, maybe not)

But, I could look into his estate from my private entrance to MY beach.

Most days, I would take a walk around MY volcanoe

and stop as often as I could to watch the sun set over the Pacific.

There was only one downside to my new place…

It was the size of a postage stamp!

View of my kitchen (note ameneties:toaster oven, microwave, mini-sink. Yep, that's it)

View from my kitchen( note furniture: futon, coffee table, side table, and mini dining set. All in the same room as the kitchen!)

I lived in the basement apartment of a wonderful estate and my rent was astronomical.

But I loved it!

Yep, it was my own little paradise.

While I was looking for the photos of my tiny apartment

I found this photo of me taken when I lived in paradise.

~Oh to be that thin again~

Halloween 2009

2009-11-01T08:27:00.001-08:00

Guess who had a ton of fun on Halloween? You got it...and the kids did too :)

(Passing candy to 1000 cute costumed kiddos at Trunk n Treat is really fun!)

Family Blogfest-Memories of Halloween 2008

2009-10-30T01:00:00.000-07:00

The last year was a "Scary-Nightmare" for the four of us...Halloween was a highlight. Firehubby, Scout, the Princess and I will each share our versions of that fateful Friday known as October 31, 2008:

I'll give a little background here::

Ana had plagued me for the three months prior to Halloween of 2008. Yes, good ol’ anaphylaxis. Being exposed to fragrance would cause me to have hoarseness and sometimes shortness of breath. The doctors told me that these symptoms were due to a potentially life threatening allergic reaction. It was a very concerning time of my life.

By the eve of Halloween I was a mess. I'd been on the verge of a medical crisis all day long. But, I wanted to go pick up some groceries and drop my new prescriptions at the Albertson’s pharmacy. It was a Friday night, and the place was bustling with women dressed in skimpy,and frankly, inappropriate costumes and letcherous men coming to check out women doing their last minute shopping. Dressed in sweats, I dragged my weary self around the store. I wanted to pick up some supplies to make mummy hotdogs in an attempt to make something special of the day for my kiddos.

My allergic reaction went into full swing when I got home and soon epipens were flying and an urgent call to 911 was made.

My memory does not serve me well on what was happening with the kids. Brian was phoning friends to take the kids off to trick or treat and there was a flurry of activity as the kids got into their costumes. I cannot remember what they were for Halloween last year. Sad.

The kids went out the door as I heard the sirens in the neighborhood. I hoped that the kids would be down the street when the firetruck pulled up to the house. The evening would be traumatic enough without seeing the emergency vehicles arrive.

Sitting at the dinner table calmly, I waited for the fire crew to come in the house. As the crew sauntered in, they looked unimpressed and probably wondered why the heck they had been called. That is, until I spoke to them and started to explain the situation. My voice sounded like Froggy, from the old Our Gang TV shows.

Instantly the pace in the room picked up. Monitors were pulled out and medication boxes were opened. The next thing I know a paramedic was jabbing a needle into my hand trying to access a vein that was as small as a thread, vasoconstricted from the Epinepherine.

He got the IV in on the second try and pushed some more Epi and gave me a dose of intravenous Benadryl.

Ding Dong.

“What?” I thought, “Who can that be?”

“Trick or Treat.”

“No way!” I said, as best as I could through my hoarseness.

Everyone in the room exchanged looks of disbelief.

Then, the fire captain shrugged, picked up the bowl of candy from the kitchen counter and headed toward the front door.

Oh my gosh, can you believe it? Parents sent their kids to the door of a house that had a firetruck in the driveway?!

The ambulance arrived a moment later , packaged me up and rolled me out the front door.

As we went out to the drive, I could see crowds of neighbors and trick or treaters gauking at me.

What’s a girl to do? I raised my cupped hand and did the princess wave all the way to the ambulance.

The rest is boring from there…ambulance ride, shortness of breath, breathing treatments, IV bolus of steroids, resolution of symtoms, and signing of discharge papers a few hours later.

The kids missed our family Halloween. Our kind friends had welcomed them to their neighborhood block party, but it wasn't the hours and hours of running door to door, parents in tow, that they delight in.

Epilogue: This year is sure to be better. In August, we journeyed to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. We were desperate for help with my worsening medical condition. To our surprise, we found out that I actually had been misdiagnosed. What I had been experiencing was asthma and vocal cord spasms. The ordeal had ended. I have my future back.

Please go read what the other members of my family had to say about Halloween 2008:

Firehubby's Blog-Sure to be a better read than mine :) (click here)

The Princess' Blog (click here)

Scout's Blog (click here)

Some People...

2009-10-28T16:49:00.000-07:00

I saw an 11 year old girl wearing this costume at the elementary school fall festival last week.

That’s some fine parenting, wouldn’t you say?!

I hope you will come back on Friday as Firehubby, myself and our kiddos are having a Halloween blogfest. Yes, the kids have blogs too :)

Stories From the Delivery Room-The Windy Day

2009-10-26T02:14:00.001-07:00

Toot.

My sweet patient had an epidural and was lacking control of some very important muscles.

Toot.

As her labor progressed, her flatulence increased.

Each time she passed gas she was so cheery and did not seem the least bit embarrassed.

Toot.

Finally, she reacted to the passing of wind.

“Honey, “ she said in a hushed voice to her husband sitting beside her in the recliner, “you really must have eaten something last night that bothered you stomach.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because you have so much gas,” she whispered.

The look on her face was priceless when she found out who had fluffed the morning away. She'd been surprised at her husband's lack of manners.

She was the first to burst out in laughter the next time we all heard…

Toot.

Marie-Jeanne

2009-10-23T08:27:00.000-07:00

Marie-Jeanne and. her pride and joy, granddaugher Laura

Years ago there were two people who had a passion for geneology…

One was a man in America…my father

Another was a woman in Luxembourg…my distant cousin

Each had come to an impasse in their research and decided to utilize ancestry.com to try to reach across the oceans in search of their descendants.

On February 13, 2003, these two seekers very quickly struck gold!

This is story of how my father met my cousin, Marie-Jeanne.

The connection helped unfurl the history of our family.
Dad's Grandfather Peter
(My Great Grandfather)

Dad’s Grandfather Peter traveled to America in search of the American Dream.

Marie-Jeanne's Grandfather

Marie-Jeanne’s Grandfather was brothers with Dad’s Grandfather Peter.

Marie-Jean's Father

Of note: Marie-Jeanne’s father was a prisoner in the German concentration camp of Dachau for his patriotism in defiance of the Gestapo. His family believed he had been murdered. Then one day, miraculously, he walked back into town. Dachau had been liberated by the allies and Marie-Jeanne was reunited with her long-lost father.

Pierre and Marie-Jeanne on left

My family grew very close to Marie-Jeanne and her husband Pierre. Their marriage was one to envy. Their admiration and love for each other beautiful.

Dad and Mom

Dad and Mom traveled to Luxembourg and were treated with the most gracious hospitality that one could imagine.

Marie-Jeanne and I share our birthday…August 15, a special connection.

My brother who lives in Hungary has been a frequent guest of Pierre and Marie-Jeanne.

Today, with a very heavy heart, we say goodbye to our wonderful cousin.

Marie-Jeanne passed away of pancreatic cancer on October 22, 2009.

Although we only knew her for a short time, we will always treasure her in our memories and in our hearts.

To Pierre and family, I send my heartfelt condolences.

God rest your soul Marie-Jeanne…God rest your soul.

Firebunny 49

2009-10-22T01:00:00.000-07:00

Firebunny 49 was our first family pet

Gotta love the name the kids chose!

He wandered onto the lawn at Station 49

Guess who is a softie

Yep, Firedaddy

Station 49 was at the edge of a regional park

It seems that some regretful recipient of an "Easter Bunny" had let the poor thing go

Be free little bunny, be free

Good thing for Firebunny 49...Firedaddy is a pro at animal rescue :)

Here is the Princess and Firebunny 49

I love this picture of the Princess

This is the look of delight that we see when she is with animals or swimming

Melts my heart!

If only I could go back in time and snuggle that little three year old girl again...

True Story Tuesday

2009-10-20T01:00:00.000-07:00

Happy Tuesday! Yep, today I am joining Rachel and Mr. Daddy for another True Story Tuesday.
Click here to see what adventures and misadventures people have been up to.

I can now see the folly of missing that very important day of my 10^th grade science class. You know, the day that I decided to sleep in the closet all day and ditch school.

Yes, I am sure if I had gone to school that day I would have heard this:

“Now boys and girls, one day you will be so thankful that you are good students and come to class each and every day,”

“Today I will share with you real life physics. It’s a lesson you will NEVER want to forget, so listen up!”

“One day your twelve year old will come to you and say something like-Mom, can I have some of that soda we put in the freezer about 5 hours ago. I know it not all the way frozen. So can I have some? Please! Please!”

“At that moment boys and girls you must do this: Shout “NO! Don’t touch that bottle! If you open it, the contents will explode forth and spray soda over the ENTIRE kitchen and into the NEXT room too!”

At that point, I am sure that the science teacher went on to explain the scientific reason for this phenomenon.

Had I ACTUALLY gone to class, I am sure I would have learned this valuable lesson.

Yes, Sunday was the day that teacher warning the smart children about. Dumb me!

And here are some lessons I learned in real life and not in class:

One day every mother will be thankful she buys diet soda.
When you hear a large popping sound after you give your kid permission to open the frozen soda bottle you will run into the room and find soda dripping from your ceiling.
The child will be so stunned that he will stand immobilized holding the overflowing soda that is now running into his shoes on onto the floor.
His sister will be standing across the room soaked and looking quite a bit like an upset Marsha Brady.
That soda will then soak into the ceiling and you will frantically scrub it with Spic and Span while standing on the kitchen island!
However, before you even think of cleaning the ceiling you will crawl around on your hands and knees getting every drop of said soda off of the pristine carpet in the living room.
You will then feel thankful you spent a bit extra on the carpet because 50 of the 100 drops will sit nicely on top of the carpet pile and not soak in like the other 50 drops.
After finishing the ceiling you will wipe down the kitchen walls and the front of every cabinet in the kitchen.
When you get to the top of the refrigerator you will realize that you have neglected it and go ahead and wipe the thick layer of soda drenched dust off.
When you climb up on the kitchen counter tops to get the soda off of the soffits you may find your husband’s long lost needle nose pliers that he has been looking for. (You will realize that you borrowed them to pry off the miniblind to clean it about 4 months prior.)
You will follow all of the higher cleaning with a good scrub of the floor and bleaching the grout on the kitchen tile (that two nights before you had polished to an incredible sparkle that would make the neighbor ladies drool).
Finally, when the preteen who started the chain of events comes down stairs, after showering off the soda (and while his sister is still in the bath removing said soda from her entire body) and apologizes with sweet doe eyes, you find the grace (with the help of the Lord above) to hug him and say “It’s alright sweetie. I‘ve cleaned it up. Don’t worry about it."

Stories From the Delivery Room-Four Times the Fun?

2009-10-18T12:03:00.001-07:00

Over two months of bed rest had left Josie’s muscles weak and atrophied, which made the simple act of transferring to the awaiting gurney feel like climbing a mountain. The long awaited day had finally arrived. In less than an hour Josie and her husband Raul would welcome four baby boys into their family, their first children. At thirty two week gestation the infants would be premature, but Josie had beat the odds and exceeded the twenty eight to thirty week gestation that the doctors predicted she could carry her higher order multiples. The nurses’ station was abuzz with excitement as we would finally get to celebrate the birth we’d so fought hard to postpone. As a team we’d struggled to keep the four in the best incubator on earth, their mother’s womb. But now, with no more room to grow, it was time for our Neonatal Intensive Care unit to take over and provide their world-class care.

When Josie and her husband Raul had gone to their first prenatal visit, at about twelve week, they were thrilled that they might have a chance to glimpse their tiny baby growing inside. Having just moved to a new town, they knew they were late starting their care and were a bit anxious to make sure that everything was going okay. Everyone was astonished when the ultrasound revealed one, then two, then three and finally four embryos. They were completely delighted and completely overwhelmed with the news that they were pregnant with spontaneous quadruplets. They thought this could only happen to couples who underwent fertility treatments.

The anesthesia doctor and I pushed Josie’s gurney from the antepartum unit and down the hall the obstetrical operating room. Upon our arrival the room was already bustling with staff preparing for the delivery of the multiples. My charge nurse had sent a second nurse to help circulate the case. In many ways there would be four times the work of the average cesarean delivery. We decided to split up the responsibilities, she would be the official circulator and I would take care of baby duties.

Our Neonatal Intensive Care would d take care of the babies in the stabization nursery adjoining the OR. When I glimpsed through the window between the two rooms, I could see the staff busily prepping for the arrival of four premature babies.

I was just one of the many nurses had come to adore Josie and Raul. Taking care of a patient with quadruplets can be very trying. Getting four fetuses’ on the monitor, even a few times a day, is a nightmare. All of the babies heartbeats need to be on the monitor at the same time to insure that each is alive and well. Usually L&D nurses accept the assignment of higher order multiples grudgingly, but things were different with Josie, she was such a kind and sweet patient, selflessly enduring bed rest and the discomforts of her super-sized pregnancy.

Preparations wound down and it was time for the big event. The surgeons were in the anterooms, up to elbows in suds, as the spinal anesthesia was being placed. Josie was lying on her side, on the extremely narrow table, making am effort to curl around her massive abdomen. My hands steadied her as I voiced encouragement that she was doing a great job. Raul would wait outside until the surgeons were scrubbed in and the anesthetic level was checked.

“Are you ready to meet your little boys?” I said softly as I looked into her frightened eyes.

“We’ve waited so long for this day,” she said with a tremble of nervousness in her voice, “I can hardly believe I will see them in just a few minutes.”

Once the spinal was in place things began to move quickly in the operating room. Josie was positioned, drapes were secured, the anesthetic level was assured, and Raul was brought into the room and seated behind the drape at the head of the bed.

The room was quieted as the surgeons got to work. Taking this moment of down time, I insured that all of my baby bands and four sets of baby papers were in order.

It didn’t take long before I heard the doctor say “Uterine!” , indicating that the uterine muscles were cut and that babies were soon to follow. Sliding open the window to the NICU room next door, I peaked my head in. For a moment I was taken aback, at least eighteen pairs of eyes immediately stared at me. Never before had I seen the room packed with so many people.

“They are to the uterus,” I said meekly, and shut the window again. Performance anxiety I guess, never was much into public speaking. But I digress…

Before I could turn my head to look at the operating field, I heard a little squeaking sound. Baby “A” was born. After rapidly suctioning the baby’s mouth and nose and cutting the cord, she lifted the baby over the drape to show the new mom and dad their perfect little baby. Then immediately the bright red and screaming baby was gently set down on a sterile draped table by the NICU window. As soon as the surgeon moved her hands away the NICU nurse scooped the little guy up and brought him to his awaiting warmer.

A moment later, another tiny cry was heard.

“Baby “B” is here!” said the doc as she quickly showed the delighted parents their beautiful newborn.

It didn’t take long and Baby “C” made his grand entrance into the world. After a quick introduction to Dad and Mom, he was off to meet his NICU team.

“Okay, are you ready for Baby “D”?” the doc asked and she pulled out the wiggling, squealing little guy.

She rapidly handed the baby to her assistant surgeon, who gave the parents a quick peek.

The pace of the delivery had changed with the last baby’s arrival and I saw the surgeon’s brow furrow as she thrust her hand back into the uterus.

“I feel another baby in here,” she said with bewilderment.

The room came to complete silence and all eyes went to the operating field.

Quickly sliding the NICU window open, I announced that there was another baby being delivered. The incredulous staff gasped as, in my own excitement, I slammed the window shut.

“Raul and Josie, you have a fifth baby,” the surgeon said as she delivered the breech, “and it’s a girl! ”

The OR burst into the sounds of shock and laughter and delight.

Yes, it was an undiagnosed quintuplet!

The tiny little girl was lifted over the drape for her mother and father to see before she was handed to the stunned neonatal nurse.

Walking back to the head of the bed, I was eager to see how the new parents were doing with the excitement.

Raul’s masked face was close to Josie’s as he stroked her cheek. Tears of joy streamed from both of their eyes.

“Momma, four boys and a girl,” he said with pride, “ Four boys and a girl…”

Jumping for Joy

2009-10-18T11:58:00.001-07:00

Things that make me happy today:

A new computer
Time for blogging
Time for writing a new delivery room story
Time to start to read my favorite blogs

I'm jumping for joy!

A Walk to Remember

2009-10-12T07:37:00.000-07:00

Gretchen Leigh Designs

The Walk to Remember was a huge success.

It was an honor and a privledge to read the names of 99 babies who were lost through miscarriage, stillbirth, newborn death and death during early infancy.

What a bittersweet occasion...

400 people came to validate the lives of their precious babies

and/or those of their loved ones and friends.

The names of baby Angel and Elijah were read...this is my beloved work,

but it is also very personal.

( I have not shared about Elijah, but I will soon)

On a different note: We had to attend to Scout's computer issue first, since he is in the laptop program at school.

This desktop is not adequate for doing much blogging, as each page opens as slow as a snail! Looking forward to a return to normalcy soon.

Keeping it in perspective here...I'll choose a sick computer any day over what we have been through lately!

Remembering Babies Who Have Died

2009-10-08T08:02:00.001-07:00

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.

October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.

October 11th is my program's (in Southern California)

4th annual "A Walk to Remember"

I am busy with preparations for this beautiful event this coming Sunday.

There is a lovely ceremony.

Candle Lighting.

Reading of the babies names.

Beautiful harp music.

A dove release.

An easy one mile walk.

Please check if there is a Walk to Remember in your area.

If not, be the force who helps bring comfort

through this meaningful recognition of lives lost and steps not taken.

Help Create a Walk to Remember in your region.

American Pregnancy:
There are approximately 6 million pregnancies every year throughout the United States:
4,058,000 live births
1,995,840 pregnancy losses

American Pregnancy Loss:
Every year in the United States there are approximately 2 million women who experience pregnancy loss:
600,000 women experience pregnancy loss through miscarriage
1,200,000 women experience pregnancy loss through termination
64,000 women experience pregnancy loss through ectopic pregnancy
6,000 women experience pregnancy loss through molar pregnancies
26,000 women experience pregnancy loss through stillbirth

Pregnancy Complications:
Every year in the United States:
875,000 woman experience one or more pregnancy complications
458,952 babies are born to mothers without adequate prenatal care
467,201 babies are born prematurely
307,030 babies are born with Low Birth Weight
154,051 children are born with Birth Defects
27,864 infants die before their first birthday

Statistics sited from:http://www.americanpregnancy.org/main/statistics.html

American Express

2009-10-06T10:36:00.000-07:00

Fixing Julie's broken laptop- a bazillion dollars

Replacing Scout's broken laptop- a kazillion dollars

Replacing broken washing machine-a zazillion dollars

Repairs to 2002 Honda CRV- oodles of money

Julie and Brian -Cashless

For everything else, there's American Express!

OH HOW I MISS MY LAPTOP! Look at this horrible mess that my cruddy desktop does!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Congratulations!

2009-10-05T08:52:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to

Stephanie

from Life is a Miracle!!!!

You were comment #14 and that was the number drawn from Random.org.

(Being computer illiterate, I was unable to get the screen shot onto the page. So you will all have to believe me.)

Thanks to everyone who left such sweet comments!

I like you even more...if that's even possible :)

No Strings Attached...Just a Bow

2009-10-01T22:29:00.000-07:00

Hello Bloggy Friends!

I have a present for one of my favorite people.

It's not a Christmas present...

It's not a birthday present...

It is a "no strings attached" giveaway for people who come by my blog:

to read a nurse story...

or see a picture of cute kids...

to share in the life of a firewife...

or just to take a nap ;)

Why? Just because I like you :)

You don't have to be an official follower...

You don't have to even be a blogger...

You don't have to tweet...

You don't need to blog about it...

You don't have to shout it from your rooftop...

I'll send it across the globe...

Old or young, male or female...

It's just for you :)

Just leave one comment by

Sunday October 4th at 10 pm (Pacific).

I will draw a name and send you a surprise.

Yep, just because I like you.

Fourteen years ago...

2009-09-30T01:00:00.000-07:00

On this day, fourteen years ago, I married my sweet husband, Brian (aka Firehubby)

We’ve walked an incredible journey together from that day and we continue looking forward:

For better
(Times are wonderful, established job, kids who sleep well, dates with my hubby)

For worse
(Can you say PMS…nuff said)

For richer
(Thankful we have “recession proof” jobs, being a firefighter and a nurse)

For poorer
(When Brian transitioned from being a writer to a firefighter things got a bit scary)

In sickness
(Praying for Brian’s ear injury)

Or in health
(Thank you Mayo for giving me my future back)

To love
(and oh how I do love him)

And to cherish
(We grow closer all the time)

…'till death do us part.

I love you Brian.

Stories From the Delivery Room

2009-09-28T00:13:00.000-07:00

“Everybody on the floor!” A loud male voice bellowed, “Down, down, get on the ground!”

Three burly masked men brandishing black pistols had burst through the bank’s glass front doors. The customers, who seconds before were going about their day making deposits and opening savings accounts, suddenly found themselves face down on the floor, fearing for their lives.

Moments before, Janet and three year-old Tyler were heading toward the exit, when she paused to unwrap the lollipop the teller had given her little boy. But she was moving slowly, as in a matter of a few weeks she would be welcoming a new baby girl to the family. Now, her protruding pregnant tummy was pressed against Tyler and her cheek was firmly against the cold tile as she desperately attempted to shield and protect both of her children. Without hesitation, she had pulled Tyler to the ground and dropped down next to him, her pregnant belly hitting the floor. She was extremely concerned that the trauma had harmed her unborn baby, yet the thought that she needed to seek a safer location took precedence. Sliding towards the nearest desk, she tucked her boy under prominent abdomen, curling around her son and her baby, leaving her back exposed to the danger surrounding her.

“Do what we say and no one gets hurt!” the tormentors with thunderous, threatening voices continued to terrorize and intimidate both the tellers and the patrons.

Janet urgently tried to quiet Tyler, not wanting to bring attention to the two of them, while trying to stifle her own sobs. She prayed for the baby within her, prayed for movement, prayed for a sign that the baby was okay.

As abruptly as the ordeal started, the gun wielding thugs backed out of the bank and into a getaway car. The silent alarms were triggered by the tellers, but due to the swiftness of the burglar’s actions, the police were not able to foil the robbery.

When the officers arrived, weapons drawn, they ensured that all of the criminals had left the building. Seeing Janet on the floor with her eight month pregnant abdomen, they immediately called for emergency medical back-up.

Knowing that she needed medical attention, Janet quickly called her mom to come and get Tyler. It wouldn’t take long for her to arrive as she lived just a few blocks away. Someone had brought Tyler another lollipop which helped to calm him.

Once Tyler was settled, Janet allowed the paramedics to bring her to Labor and Delivery to check on the baby. As she rolled into the triage unit, she had tears rolling down her face.

“Please, tell me my baby is okay,” she pleaded, even before I had a chance to introduce myself.

“I’m going to listen to her heartbeat right away,” I said, helping transfer her from the gurney to the hospital bed.

Not waiting for the medic to finish giving me report, I pulled the monitor cables from the drawer and placed the sono on her abdomen. The ultrasound waves immediately picked up the rhythmic galloping of the fetal heartbeat. Janet smiled and rubbed her abdomen.

“I’m so glad you are okay,” she said soothingly to her baby.

The OB doc was at the bedside doing an ultrasound when Janet’s husband Tim arrived in a panic.

“Everything looks okay right now,” the doctor reassured the couple. “However, I am concerned that the blow to your abdomen may have caused a placental abruption, a condition where the placenta separates from the uterine wall. This could cause bleeding in the uterus and possibly fetal distress. I’d like for you to stay for observation.”

That morning I asked my charge nurse to allow me to be one on one with Janet. I felt a need to be present for Janet and Tim as much as possible, to provide a secure and comforting environment. They needed frequent assurance that everything looked good with their baby girl. It was difficult for them to be away from Tyler, but Tim regularly checked in with Janet’s mother, each time receiving word that he was doing fine. This allowed them to focus on the baby. Janet described the traumatic events of the morning over and over. This debriefing was important and ultimately may have helped with her psychcological healing.

“I’m having a contraction,” Janet grimaced. She had been having a lot of irritability, uterine tightening for twenty or thirty seconds, but now a two minute long contraction picked up on the monitor. Reaching over and feeling the top of her abdomen, the contraction palpated pretty strong.

The hours that followed brought increasingly regular and painful contractions. When I checked Janet’s cervix, I found she was four centimeters dilated; she had been two cm’s when her OB had examined her. Either the enormous stress from the robbery or the trauma to her abdomen had put her into active labor.

Four hours of contractions, an epidural, and 10 minutes of pushing later, Janet and Tim welcomed a beautiful, healthy baby girl into the world.

Janet burst into tears as her baby was place on her chest, skin to skin. It had been one of the worst days of her life and yet, one of the sweetest.

Sleep, Sweet Sleep

2009-09-25T08:24:00.001-07:00

Tired.

After a long week at work and a busy week at home…I’m tired.

Are you?

We do earn our weekends!

Unless you are a nurse (or even a firewife, the more I think of it) then, there is really no such thing as knowing that every weekend is your very own.

I was thinking about how much sleep I need.

A straight 8.

If I get that, I am feeling good…less, not so much.

How about you?

When I was a night nurse and single, I could (and often would) sleep for 12-16 hours every chance I got. I was skilled!

Sleep, sweet sleep.

Once, when I was in high school, I was so exhausted that I did NOT want to get up.

I know, I know, but I mean it was worse than usual.

But I was not sick, so there was no excuse for me. However, mom had not gotten back from her nursing shift yet and so I told my bro who was supposed to drive me to school that I was staying home sick.

Then, I opened my closet, made a nest and got into it.

Yep, I slept all day in my closet… (stop laughing!)

That poor mom of mine got home and went to bed after her night shift. And we both enjoyed that sweet bliss, known as sleep.

Thankfully, we did not own a gun, or things could have gotten ugly!

But I digress…later that afternoon, brothers began arriving home.

Before long, I heard footsteps… and then, the closet door swung open!

“BUSTED!” shouted annoying brother #3, laughing his bottom off, “Wait until Mom hears this!”

But you know what…I didn’t get in trouble! (Ha, ha, annoying brother, picture me sticking my tongue out here)

My mom later said, if I was so exhausted that I was willing to sleep in the closet, then she was willing to turn a blind eye to the infraction.

But, I was instructed not to do it again.

Sometimes, for old time sake, I get my pillows and blankets and sleep for the day in my closet…

Had you going! LOL!

True Story Tuesday-Not Just a Fish Story

2009-09-22T08:21:00.000-07:00

At night, if I left my window open, I could hear the howls and cries of the disturbed. It was eerie. Across a narrow drive, just yards from my nursing dorm, hundreds of troubled souls tried to find rest, just as I did. But by the sounds echoing off the walls of my small darkened room, it seemed that instead of respite, night brought terror and torment to many. Getting out of my bed and peering through the window, I couldn’t distinguish where the sounds were originating, I could just see scattered lights through the trees and frosted glass of the medical center’s psychiatric hospital.

The noises seemed to permeate my dorm room more than usual that night, a reminder that the next day I would have to face some of my deepest fears. I tossed and turned thinking of that what lurked inside of that dreaded building, only a stones throw. It would be the site of my next clinical rotation-Psychiatric Nursing.

A few short hours later, tired from a fitful nights sleep and full of apprehension, I found myself at the entrance of the psych hospital.

“Walk in, just put one foot in front of the other and go in,” I cajoled myself.

A dozen of my classmates had already entered the building, but I hesitated for a moment. Just the thought of going onto the locked wards was overwhelming. My experience with the mentally ill was very limited. Aside from seeing a few homeless people talking to themselves on the street, I had no idea what mental illness was all about. I was about to come face to face with the outcasts of society, the deeply psychotic, paranoid, delusional, and I found myself feeling powerless and afraid.

“Okay, when we enter the ward,” my instructor was saying as I caught up with my class, “I want each of you to find a patient to sit down with and talk to.”

A loud buzzing sound signaled the opening of the secure doors to the psych ward. My instructor left us, just inside the entrance, and headed to find the charge nurse. We stood there wide eyed and filled with anxiety about being left alone. A moment later the charge nurse joined us and gave a brief orientation. We wouldn’t find the patients in traditional hospital rooms, she informed us, as the patients were only allowed in their sleeping quarters at night. She then directed us to the dayroom. The dreary, grey-green dayroom was quiet when we entered. A couple of dozen patients, in their own clothing, sat expressionless on worn vinyl sofas. They were all in close proximity to each other, yet each seemed to be in his or her own world.

Over the week or so leading up to my time on the psych ward, my class was briefed in the basics of psychiatric nursing. The limited knowledge that was imparted to me seemed to only leave me feeling more vulnerable. I realized that simply conversing with the patients would not be enough. We had begun training in a behavioral medicine skill called therapeutic communication. This special technique would help us to connect with our patients in a more effective way and we were expected to apply it.

Reluctantly entering the dayroom, I noticed an empty spot on a couch next to a woman with a white towel draped over her head, looking like she had just stepped out of the shower. Timidly, I approached and sat down. Looking at the band around her wrist, I could see her name: Rachel Earl. Remembering that I needed to make eye contact, I positioned myself so that I could peer under her towel.

“Good morning Mrs. Earl,” I said softly, “My name is Julie. I’m a student nurse, how are you this morning?”

“Oh dear,” she replied, “I don’t feel so well.”

“So, you’re not feeling well,” I said, deliberately reflected her words back to her in an awkward attempt at therapeutic communication.

“I see you have a towel on your head,” I said, self consciously expressing my observation.

“Well, I don’t want my gills to dry out!” she said responded somewhat impatiently.

Oh no, what do I say to that?

“You don’t want your gills to dry out?” I clarified.

“Yes, I need to be back in water. I can hardly breathe like this.”

“Go on…” I led.

“The towels do help. They do keep my gills moist,” she informed me.

Be therapeutic, I must be therapeutic.

“Mrs. Earl, you don’t have gills,” I said gently, presenting reality, “You are a person, a human being.”

“No, I am a fish, you just don’t understand!”

“Would you please excuse me,” I said as calmly as possible, seeing I was clearly not equipped to deal with her, “I’ll be right back.”

Finding my instructor, I told her that my patient seemed to think she was a fish. She encouraged me to go and speak with one of the ward nurses.

“Oh yes, Mrs. Earl,” the nurse said, responding to my inquiry “the fire department was called to her home yesterday. A neighbor reported water flowing out of her front door. She had plugged up all of the drains in her home and turned on all of the faucets, trying to fill her house with water. Indeed, she thinks she is a fish.”

Returning to her side, I tried to think of therapeutic communication techniques that I could use to help her return to reality.

Self disclosure? No, I’ve never thought of myself as a fish, or any other animal or object.

Humor? Not unless, I wanted to be slapped with a fin.

Validation? It just didn’t seem appropriate.

No, as a first day psych student nurse who wanted to do no harm, I used my best therapeutic communication tool yet…I just sat with her silently. Calmly present, but silent.

That night, as I lay in bed listening to the turbulence of the psych hospital across the way, I pictured a little old lady who thought she was a fish. It was clear to me that my prior impression of people with mental illness was way off base. My fear had been unfounded. Now, my trepidation had been replaced by sadness. A sorrow brought on by a deeper understanding of the devastation of mental illness.

Today I am joining Rachel and Mr.Daddy at Once Upon a Miracle for True Story Tuesday. Head on over to their blog and read some usually fun and often hilarious stories.