Back to work

This week I went back to work. In the weeks leading up to my return I had a lot of anxiety. I worried that I wouldn't have any compassion for families and patients. I worried that I wouldn't be able to safely do my job. I worried that I wouldn't be able to cope with other people's grief. Mostly I worried about returning to the hospital where I had delivered Sam. I worried about being in the last place that I held Sam...the only place where I held my tiny son. 

On my first day back I could barely breath when I entered the parking garage. It was so strange to be doing something so familiar and yet to have it feel completely foreign. (Or maybe that was because they had changed all of the garage light bulbs fluorescents.) Whatever the case may be I would probably have turned my car right back around and left if I didn't know that a very good friend was waiting  with coffee to walk in with me. 

Together we walked into the hospital, and despite my inability to remember how to swipe my badge I made it back up to the ICU. It was hard to see so many familiar faces. So many faces reflecting my pain, searching for words and realizing that hugs work best when words are inadequate. But it is also good to see the people that I have laughed hysterically with, sneakily played practical jokes with, fought to save lives with, and cried over devastating loss with. 

With these people I have ridden a roller coaster of emotions. And while sometimes I think it might be easier to quit and go to a place where no one knows Sam's story I then remember our "battle stories." These are people that I can trust. While I will rely on some more directly, each person, in their own way, is supporting me by knowing and understanding my pain. They are supporting me with hugs, light squeezes on my arm, and little smiles of encouragement. 

I will always remember the day I left the hospital in a wheelchair without my tiny Sam in my arms where he belonged. And I may never be able to get into the main elevator that brought Mark and me to the lobby without our precious son, but I am able to be at the hospital without being crushed by painful memories. I owe that to the many wonderful people who have created a history for me to hold on to and reflect on.