Friday, February 19, 2010

Glorious

It's been so many days since I've written.  I've been sorting through parts and pieces of my life, reassembling some broken parts, throwing away of a few unusable things, adding a bunch of wonderful, graceful things, you know, just renovating a bit.  Using the bad to bring out some good.  And I finally believe the wings of this new and improved Amanda are finally ready to fly.  I like who I am now, and I feel like I'm so much more mature.  I know what I want.  Everything is so clear to me right now. Sure, I'm still struggling with a few things, but I learned how to leave them at the feet of Jesus. 

Speaking of the glorious... all week, I've been dwelling on this post by the fabulous Angie Smith (at another great blog you should check out, (In)Courage), entitled "The Glorious Hem."  Read, reflect, and rejoice.  We - despite our many, many flaws - are all wanted, and we will all be redeemed.  Nothing matters but what we have in store for us only by the grace of God.  May we press on, getting through the dirt we encounter all over this life, to finally meet our groom.  He knows us and wants us.  He is waiting for us with his promises to wipe away our tears and make all things new.  Glorious!

Todd and I seem to be in "Spring Cleaning" mode a little early this year.  In the past few days, we have started tackling some home projects that we have been putting off for awhile.  One of them (which I was DREADING) was cleaning out our closets.

I was dreading it for a few reasons, not the least of which was that there were some sassy pants in a size 2 that I knew God was calling me to surrender to the "in your dreams" pile. I decided I need to take some pressure off myself about losing all of my baby weight, so I was actually pretty liberal with my sorting this time around.

I was also dreading cleaning out the girl's closets because there were stacks of clothes that needed to be sorted by size and season, and different piles for people who have little girls I have been putting it off forever, so I committed the afternoon yesterday and set up shop in Kate's room. I turned on the radio and started reaching for the piles.

About a half hour later, I was in tears.

I hadn't expected it to be so mentally draining. I have mentioned this before, but I really feel like I see life in photographs...

I remember the outfit Ellie was wearing when she realized that the hose water was freezing, and about 2 seconds later when she taught Abby the same lesson the hard way.

I remember what Kate wore home from the hospital, and what blankie I first photographed her in.

I remember the bathing suit that Abby was wearing when she felt beach sand for the first time.

I remember the dresses the girls were wearing last Christmas, when I was a few months pregnant with a baby girl I thought was healthy.

I have one of our Christmas cards from last year and it is signed "Todd, Angie, Ellie, Abby, Kate and Baby Smith."

I grieved all over again, in a different way.  I grieved because I can't hold her in those sweet hand-me-downs while rocking her to sleep.  It seems like at this point, the hardest moments come in ways that are totally unexpected. I start to feel like I am doing really well, and then I get hit over the head with this queasy feeling of agony.

I sat on Kate's floor and dreamed of Audrey for awhile. I miss her so much, and I daily mourn the loss of the little moments of life I take for granted with the girls.

As I made my way into my closet, I felt so heavy with sadness. I started throwing my maternity clothes into a giant bag while I had a little "conversation" with God. It was pretty one-sided.

At least it was at first.

After a few minutes, I looked up and saw the bag that has my wedding dress in it. When I talk about "the Lord speaking to me," it is in a time like this, when I feel a prompting to do something and I know that it is coming from Him.  In this moment, I felt like I needed to unzip the bag.

It seemed a little odd, but I know Him well enough to know that I should just obey the urging and let Him guide me to where I am supposed to be.  I unzipped the bag and for a brief moment, my mind was consumed with the fact that I used to have a 21 inch waist, but then I remembered that the God of the Universe was speaking to me (clap, clap!) so I returned to a posture of listening.

I pulled the bottom of the dress out of the bag and the train came spilling out.  I spread it out on the ground and studied it as moments of my wedding day came to mind.  I started to relax and my eyes drifted to the edges of the train.  And I saw the most incredible, unexpected thing.

The hem of my gown is dirty. Really dirty.

And I know how it got that way. I walked down a church aisle, took photographs in the grass, and danced and ate my way to happiness.  I lived in it.

A few dresses down from my wedding gown is the dress I wore when we buried Audrey.  It is dirty as well, but not from happiness.  It is stained with fresh earth, wrinkled from kneeling by my daughter's grave.

And so I sat on my closet floor asking the Lord to show me why He had brought me here.  I closed my eyes and imagined the hem of my wedding gown as I danced with my new husband.

"... I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." -Revelation 21:2-5

I couldn't remember the whole scripture, but the words "You are the bride of Christ" came to mind. I suddenly had an image in my mind of myself in a glorious white gown that floated all around me.  A seemingly endless train chasing after me as I walked.

And then, Him.

I couldn't see Him in my mind, but I felt a great peace as I imagined my hands, clutching at fabric all around me so I could run to where He was.  I saw myself, falling before Him as my dirty gown settled all around me.

Dirty from the hurt and the disappointment.

Dirty from the dancing in joy.

Dirty from years of walking across a wet graveyard.

Dirty from loving deeply, richly, completely.

Dirty from the fears, the dreams, the sorrow, the confusion.

Dirty from the memories, the regrets, the mistakes, the injustice of this world.

Stained by this life I have walked while my Savior whispered, "One day I will wipe your tears, my sweet bride..."

What a glorious hem surrounds us all. It follows us wherever we go, gathering up pieces of this life in anticipation of the next.

And one day, I will bow to the King of Kings, and I will worship Him.

And as He wipes the tears from my eyes, I will ask Him the question that cannot be answered fully from a closet floor....Where is she, Lord?

And in the meantime, I will start to think of my days like a wedding photograph.  I will walk, veiled, down this long aisle, in breathless anticipation of the day that awaits me.

I will trust in the One Who will make all things new in His time.

I will keep my eyes on He Who waits for me.

I will.

Or rather, I do.

Angie Smith, Bring The Rain

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Anything but this

     Sometimes you have to be apart from people you love, but that doesn’t mean that you love them any less.  Sometimes it makes you love them even more.
          The Last Song movie

     It’s hard when you miss people, but you know, if you miss them, it means you’re lucky.  It means you had something special in your life, someone worth missing.  
          One Tree Hill 7.16

My hair stylist lost her husband to cancer last August.  It was a hard battle with a drawn out ending.  She hasn’t been the same since and probably won’t be.  Last week, I went in to get my hair done, and she stopped and looked at me, knowing what had happened since my mom had seen her the week before.  “It’s like this huge empty feeling right here, isn’t it?” as she stopped and pointed to somewhere between her stomach and her heart.  I nodded, holding back tears.  I didn’t have the courage to ask how long until that feeling fades away... if ever?

     I watched you sleeping quietly in my bed
     You don't know this now but there's some things that need to be said
     And it's all that I can hear, It's more than I can bare...

     What if I fall and hurt myself?
     Would you know how to fix me
     What if I went and lost myself?
     Would you know where to find me
     If I forgot who I am,
     Would you please remind me?
     Cause without you things go hazy
          Rosi Golan

2 weeks ago to this moment, January 30, 2010, my fiance (of 2.5+ years, boyfriend of nearly 5.5) and I broke the relationship.  

We bowed to what we knew was the plan of God, even though it was the hardest thing either of us have ever had to do.  

I cried to God, "Anything but this," and I meant it.  I've known sickness, I've known pain, I've known more than most.  And my continual cry was honest, yet my prayer unanswered.

     As for God, His way is perfect.
          Psalm 18.30

     Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.
          Psalm 23.4-5

     In the beginning, GOD.
          Genesis 1.1a

     Him that filleth all in all
          Ephesians 1.23b

We’ve been holding to the promises we know are true, trying to get through this, to the other side... whatever is over there, we don’t know.

     Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.
          Proverbs 3.5-6

     For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.
          Isaiah 55.8-9

Right after that night, I made two lists - one of things I will miss, and one of things I won’t miss.  I realize the second might have been inappropriate, but it’s the only way I could formulate some kind of coping at that point in time.

These are the things which I ultimately ache to see, hear, or feel just one more time... I'd give all but my very soul to have these things just for one more second.   The things about you that I miss... The things you did that I’ll be forever so grateful for.  Reasons to miss you even more...  The things I will never forget.  Whatever you want to call it, this is my list.

We fit together like we were meant to be, and I really thought we were.  The grief is worse than losing anyone in death because you’re still alive, I’m still alive, and both of us have to figure out now how to live apart until we can live together again as friends.

You were my first love.  You carried and took care of me, stayed by me, held onto me.  You taught me the existence of love itself, in believing in things much greater than ourselves. You nurtured my growth, enabled my being. You gently tore down my unsurpassable, incorruptible walls. You taught me how to love.

No matter where we each end up, we will always be entwined into the innermost beings of each other. Growing together for a quarter of our lives has left undeniable, indelible marks on our souls. For that, I will always love you.

     Hear my cry, oh God - attend unto my prayer.  From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee.  When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy... I will trust covert of thy wings.  Selah.
          Psalm 61.1-4

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Holding onto Christmas

We had a bit of a stressful Christmas, but still, it was a beautiful Christmas of so much love, joy and peace.  Holding onto the spirit as long as I can, enjoying Jonathan's extra days off this week.  :)

Love these Christmas quotes...

Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
Hamilton Wright Mabie

It is Christmas every time you let God love others through you... yes, it is Christmas every time you smile at your brother and offer him your hand.
Mother Teresa

I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses.
Taylor Caldwell

The best of all gifts around any christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other.
B Hillis

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
Luke 2.14

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Wait.

Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried;
Quietly, patiently, lovingly, God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate . . .
And the Master so gently said, "Wait."

Wait? you say wait? my indignant reply.
Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By faith I have asked, and I'm claiming your Word.

My future and all to which I relate
Hangs in the balance, and you tell me to wait?
I'm needing a 'yes', a go-ahead sign,
Or even a 'no' to which I can resign.

You promised, dear Lord, that if we believe,
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord I've been asking, and this is my cry:
I'm weary of asking! I need a reply."

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate,
As my Master replied again, "Wait."
So I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut,
And grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting for what?"

He seemed then to kneel, and His eyes met with mine . . .
and He tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead and cause mountains to run.

I could give all you seek and pleased you would be.
You'd have what you want, but you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of my love for each saint.
You'd not know the power that I give to the faint.

You'd not learn to see through clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there.
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me
When darkness and silence are all you can see.

You'd never experience the fullness of love
When the peace of My spirit descends like a dove.
You would know that I give, and I save, for a start,
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart.

The glow of my comfort late into the night,
The faith that I give when you walk without sight.
The depth that's beyond getting just what you ask
From an infinite God who makes what you have last.

You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that My grace is sufficient for thee.
Yes, your dearest dreams overnight would come true,
But, oh, the loss, if you missed what I'm doing in you.

So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to truly know me.
And though oft My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still . . . Wait.

Russell Kelfer, 1980

Friday, December 04, 2009

One of these days :: N30010 :: Clinical Journal Entry #25

There are no headlines
for everyday heroes
there is no tickertape
no standing ovation

sometimes it's all they can do
to set their feet on the floor
in the morning

they go through their days
the best they know how

no rainbow need arch
through the sky
to inspire them
they have a special courage
shining deep inside

they go through their days
the best they know how

Ted Hibbard

This came into my inbox today while I was at clinical. 

Today, I could not wake up.  My alarm went off, I took a shower, threw on my scrubs, ate a bowl of Cheerios in record time, and left for clinical.  We were supposed to be on OB today and next Friday, but our instructor said since everyone has seen births, we had an option of not going to clinical next week and going to campus instead.  It's December, and we're all dead.  Guess which option we chose.  So today was our last day in clinical for obstetrics.  We're done.  (Well, next Friday we have presentations, course evals, and an "educational" movie, but that doesn't  count.)

I begged to go to OB Triage today simply because our instructor was confused and assigned other people to Labor & Delivery and I sure was not going to do Postpartum again.  Plus, a lot of births were going on so I figured Triage would be a happening place  (Any pregnant patient who comes to the hospital is sent up to OB Triage.  They could have the flu, a broken bone, or be in labor - most of them know to come to OB Triage and the ones who go to the ER get sent up anyways.)

Not a single patient came in until probably about 11am.  It was all insane from there.  December 1st was a full moon, so don't ask why it all happened today, 3 days later, but it did.

We got a woman who had a stomach virus (and was vomiting so loudly that I almost wanted to do so myself) and we loaded her up with a cocktail of phenergan/benadryl/reglan.  Then we had a woman who had a scheduled C-section (4th baby, 4th C-section!) who needed prepped.  This was my favorite patient because I got to start her IV!  Now, rumor has it that no one teaches us IV insertion in nursing school.  Apparently it's the orientation responsibility of wherever we get a job.  That always sounded stupid to me, and thankfully my instructor isn't into going by all of the program rules.  (I love her for it though - she's smart about it, she just has a much more creative, free-spirited approach to nursing)  Everyone knows though that one of the meds I'm on make my hands shake.  As in a tremor kind of shake.  I'm a steller phelebotomist (or I was in my nurse technician days) but sometimes it freaks patients and instructors out.  So my instructor felt my hands to see if she wanted to "let" me try the IV.  Not even kidding.  Then she randomly puts her hand on my stomach and says, "Wow, your entire body tremors."  Yeah, welcome to the misery.  I told her I was comfortable doing it and thought I could, so after I told her what med I was on and she about attacked me to find out why the doctors make me take it (umm, because I'm allergic to every single aternative?) she finally agreed to let me attempt it.  She asked me what I'd need to start an IV and draw some blood (I voted for the 22 gauge, but the RN said I had to do an 18 - scary!), we reviewed the exact steps the process entailed, and I beautifully gathered all of the supplies in a Chux and carried them into the patient's room.  (Of course I know exactly what you need to start an IV - I've only had like 100 in my lifetime...)

Oh and let me just insert here that Jen (my bestie) taught me how to do an IV (at my kitchen table - just like the time she taught me how to draw blood!) but I completely blew her vein.  She told me to try again, and I was too traumatized by creating a huge blood bruise to accept the offer.  I had just asked her this morning to come over this weekend so we could practice again.  Too late!

So the patient was African American and didn't have good veins at that.  So not only were her veins harder to see, but they just were crooked, deep, or way too "wiggly."  I put the tourniquet on and felt around.  I finally found a hand vein that curved back and forth but it was the best she had.  My instructor liked the site and told me to go for it.  I inserted the needle, bevel up, and there was no flash.  I was panicking when my instructor said, "Push it in just a little more."  Flash!!!  I pushed the button to retract the needle and threaded the catheter in.  Blood started spurting everywhere (that's a good thing!) so I quickly connected the adaptor and popped a blood vial in.  Full.  2nd vial.  Full.  I removed the adaptor and popped the IV tubing on.  Beautiful.  I got a warm rag to clean up the blood on her hand, and we covered it with a Tegaderm and taped the tubing securely.  I had primed the Lactated Ringers so I opened the line and let it go.  (I guess in Triage they just "eye" it and don't put it through a pump.)  Drop. Drop. Drop.  The LR were infusing perfectly in an IV that I had put in.  It was working!  Then later I piggybacked 2 bags of antibiotics, and they worked, too!  (Why they wouldn't, I have no idea.  But I was still on IV-high.)  I had an issue with the 2nd bag, but the RN said sometimes it's just the position of their hand, and sure enough, we had the patient place her hand a different way, and the med started infusing.  Good to know.

The day I performed my very first blood draw on a real patient (Jen doesn't count) I was teching and I called and texted pretty much everyone I knew (and Twittered!) and about died from excitement and pride and well, it was a little weird how excited I was.  Well, that was nothing compared to the IV.  The feeling of knowing I could successfully insert an IV made me feel almost like I'm a real nurse now - the IV is always the "big, scary" thing that everyone is petrified to do.  Well, I've done it, and I did it well.  So I can do it again.  And it feels sooooo good!  Major high.  Other than things involving my fiance like our engagement, first kiss, picking out the ring, blah blah blah, oh and maybe getting accepted into the nursing program, or the birth of my furbaby puppy, it was probably one of the most exciting moments of my life. (And if you're not a nurse or nursing student, you probably don't get it - that's okay.)

Wow, I use a lot of parentheses.  So many thoughts!

Anyways...

That was the highlight of my day, and I spent the rest of it helping check in new patients and then wasting time.  Not kidding.  The story...

We had this huge rush of new patients in Triage, all with what they called "contractions," one who said, "I'm not sure, but I think my water may be leaking.  I don't know," and then a couple women who both said their due dates were tomorrow so they were sure they were in labor.  Funny because most of the patients were in such early labor we couldn't even admit them.  Anyways, I went in with the nurses and helped put on the fetal and contraction monitors, get their urine samples, answer questions, get their data... etc.  After awhile, everyone was just chilling because that's what the Triage patients do - they sit there for a couple hours (unless they're obviously in active labor) so we can read a good amount of monitors to see what stage of labor (if any) the patient is in, and how the baby's heartrate is.  I think it's more like a "we know you're not in labor, but we need to legally cover our butts" kind of thing.  Not sure, but that's my theory because it's kind of monotonous.  And yes, most of them end up being sent home.  If you're contractions aren't under 5 minutes apart and completely regular, if you are in no obvious distress and have not had your water break, don't come to the hospital.  The nurses and doctors don't mind, but you will be very, very bored and miserable waiting and watching and then being sent home.

So Triage got quiet really fast.  Everyone just waiting to be sent home to walk around, have sex, do whatever they want to get their labor going faster.  Then they'll probably be back tomorrow in active labor.  It's crazy.

Our instructor said if we were bored, we could go study in the  conference room.  A lot of things happened in the morning and early afternoon, so there were a few of us who were bored out of our minds by 2:30/3.  We went to the conference room and rested, talked, went to the cafeteria (yes, just because we were bored and hungry), came back, talked some more, and just waited for postconference.  We were all completely absent from our brains by that time, one of us had a broken arm, another hurt her back when a patient attacked her this week at her tech job (seriously!), a few were hungover, I was in extreme fibromyalgia pain and had a migraine coming on, and of course we all knew it was the last day on the floor.  We were slaphappy and exhausted, and our instructor looked like death (she has fibro too and was having a bad day), so we all agreed to leave a little early.

And now I am typing this as I babysit (which is insane seeing how much pain I am in from this day) and will momentarily take a nap until Mom and Dad come home.  I'm with my nanny girls, and L Bug's grandma watched her today and let her talk her out of taking a nap.  I literally had to drag L Bug into bed as she's screaming, "I'M (sob) NOT (sob) SLEEPY (sob sob)!!!!!"  She's barely 2 so it was kind of cute, but also distressing at the same time.  She's never that bad.  All I could think was, "I feel like sobbing and yelling I AM SLEEPY!!!!" 

This nursing thing - although amazing and fulfulling and perfect- is going to physically take every last bit of me.  3 more semesters + a summer externship.  It seems impossible, but I don't know what else to do.

Oh and as a side note, Jen (my best friend, remember?) took her boards yesterday and PASSED!  She's an RN!  She was going to reschedule her test but failed to do so within 24 hours so either had to take it without studying at all or waste the money and pay to take it again.  She told me she knew she'd fail, but she figured she'd already paid for it and it would be good practice, so she went.  And passed.  Without studying.  That is so my best friend.  She texted me this AM and said "I know you're in clinical but I need you to call me ASAP."  I snuck into a hallway behind a door and called her.  We were both almost crying.  It was such a great moment.  Then she called me tonight.  She techs at a hospital and landed a job on her floor, which she loves.  Apparently she talked to the nurse recruiter this afternoon, and she's having Jen start orientation on Monday.   Tomorrow is her last day teching forever.  She's an RN, and she starts making an insane amount of money Monday morning.  She will be working on her favorite unit, loving every minute of it, and making the living she's worked so hard for.  Snaps for Jen.  I'm so proud of my amazing, crazy soul sister.  24 hours ago, she thought she was taking a practice NCLEX and she'd definitely fail it, and right now, she is an RN and starts work on Monday on her dream unit.  Absolutely insane.  God is pretty awesome.  Oh, and she has a new boyfriend too.  First "real" boyfriend ever.  It's so sweet when life is so good. 

Today, her day, almost makes me forget how far away from nursing I feel after remember what I realize at the end of each clinical day  - my body cannot do this job for more than a couple hours.  My heart can, just not my body.  Everything starts aching and throbbing and crushing and burning.  My energy dips steeply at about noon, and then I drag.  I come home and load up on percocet, a muscle relaxer, a pain patch, sometimes a zofran... and I sleep for 2 solid days.  Then during the week, I forget how hard it was and look forward to the next clinical.  Then it nearly kills me, and it happens all over again.  I think it hurts my soul more than it hurts my body. 

One of these days, life will be okay.  One of these days...

Monday, October 19, 2009

Never alone

words by the fabulous audrey hepburn, art by the fabulous vol. 25!