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December 1, 2003
By Pasquale V. Iemma, RN, BSN
It was a day like any other in labor and delivery. I had just received a call from the emergency room that there was a labor patient on the way up. So, I gathered my equipment and proceeded to the room awaiting her arrival.
The door opened and in walked a tall-distinguished gentleman followed by an exhausted woman sitting uncomfortably in the old rickety wheel chair. A quick hello, introduction and I made my way to the expectant mother. As she sat in the chair adjusting from side to side and breathing as though each exhale would surely relieve the pain, I offered to assist her out of the chair and to the bed. As her tired body lifted out of the chair she looked at me and asked, "Will you help me?" Her eyes seemed to look into my soul while her grip remained strong. At that moment my presence became complete. I was there in mind, body and spirit. I was there to answer the call. I responded with, "I am here to help you move through your birthing experience. I'll be here for you!" She smiled as her next contraction began and looked at her husband, "I told you it was going to be OK?"
Her pelvic exam confirmed that she was in active labor. As the shift progressed, she, her husband and I had many occasions to connect and talk. They shared that this was the first successful pregnancy for them after five previous losses. They explained as they were both in their mid forties this was their last hope. I listened, I cared and I made sure that I was there.
It was time for change of shift, and we were all in the delivery room watching as each push brought this miracle closer to our world. The incoming nurse entered the room for report, but the delivering mother insisted that I needed to be there to meet her angel. "Won't you stay?" "Of course, I said I would be here for you and I don't plan to go back on my word!" I threw her a caring smile and helped support her other leg as she gave her last push and delivered a beautiful baby boy.
As the physician placed the baby on be abdomen, the room overflowed with tears of happiness. "He's beautiful, he's perfect…oh honey our son." I remained with the family for some time after. "Thank you, thank you all…Thank you, Pasquale we could have never done this without you!" "Funny, I don't think I could have done this without you all either!" We laughed and I left for home where I was sure my bed was calling my name. As I drove home I reflected on the whole experience and was affirmed that this was the right career for me.
As I nestled into bed I drifted to sleep immediately. That evening I returned to work to find that the baby had aspirated in the nursery and that after considerable resuscitation efforts failed they called it! My heart dropped, and my limbs fell limp. "Where is she? I need to see her!" A voice answered she was discharged; we didn't think this was the best environment for them. "They did ask for you, but administration thought that it was best not to involve you." I turned to a nurse who I considered my friend and asked, "Why didn't you call me?" She shrugged her shoulders and walked away.
This poem is my aesthetic reflection of the above story. Interestingly enough this representation didn't materialize until many years later. You see, I had been told that real nurses don't get that involved and they certainly don't show emotions. "That makes us weak…dear." "Just move on…we all have to just move on!" So, I did, but I never forgot.
I'll be there
The tears flowed as water.
Soon the room was overcome with the knowing that a miracle had happened.
Years of waiting, centuries of wanting,
A hunger-satisfying woman's need.
"He's beautiful, he's perfect…oh honey our son."
"Thank you, thank you all…
And you, you most of all I'll never forget…
You'll be there for the christening…won't you?
Say yes, we want it to be…"
A reassuring smile, a touch, a hug, and lost in eyes that seemed to be colored with centuries of wisdom.
His hug was after…love, caring, and so much more
His strength, now from pride.
"If only the boys on the force could see me now."
"See my son"
Time has passed and heavy eyelids lead to the realm of dreams.
A place where pain and time are not allowed.
"Oh no…He's blue! Quick get the suction, where's the doctor?"
Close the shades.
As though drawn shades would keep out the blackness.
Noble efforts end in ruin.
"Why, Why…"
"Please someone call him, I want to see him…Please.
Damn, the policy! Please we need him here…he knows our angel so well."
Back in the realm of dreams all was serene.
Time marched on and day into night.
Good evening all. "Why so somber?
NO! Why didn't someone call me?"
"Why, Why…"
They needed me, I needed them, and now we are all alone.
How dare you decide the limits of my caring?
How dare you dictate my sense of being?
These walls do not contain the possibilities of my caring, nor do they speak for all that it is.
The orders came from the top, and shook the very foundations.
"No, you will not contact the family," counsel said…
"I've never heard of this kind of attachment…I'm not sure it's all too professional to become involved."
But, her call shook my foundation. It touched every part of me.
I stand alone, so alone; my sisters laugh at me…
"Get over it, you meant nothing to them…"
"You're just a nurse."
The words were clear, and the silence was deafening.
In this vacuous hole, I continued to hear her call ever so clear.
My dreams no longer placid…
Then the most beautiful bells awaken me from my darkness.
It was her,
"NO, no one told me"
"Yes, I'll be there…"
About the Author: Pasquale V. Iemma, RN, BSN is a graduate student in the Christine E. Lynn College of Nursing. He currently practices in the area of labor and delivery. You may contact Mr. Iemma by email at PIEM2724@fau.edu.
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