Day #21: How We Came to Love Our Hospital
I'm still not sure how exactly I managed to swing it, but I took like a 2 hour nap with Max this afternoon and it was amazing. It felt like the first real sleep I'd had in ages because my nighttime sleep has been so rough...why is it that when babies finally start sleeping through the night suddenly mom can't?
I dreamed we were back in the hospital volunteering and our wonderful program lead was drawing pictures and writing notes for James, like she does. But also my friend who is a NICU nurse in another location was there and somehow we got to help in the NICU as well. And there were baby cuddles. And no virus. I felt warm and fuzzy when I woke up. The hospital has oddly become my home away from home.
I have thought once or twice over the years about nursing school. If it had occurred to me as an undergrad maybe I would have done it but I didn't have the temperament for it back then. I think if I had started a nursing career later in life I could have done it but by that time I was far enough down my educational road it was not worth the detour so I never found out. So I'm not a nurse and I know absolutely zero about the medical side of the hospital. However, on the public side...I have been in every nook and cranny of that hospital, believe me.
It started six years ago April 30 when my oldest was born 7 weeks early and we spent 3 weeks in the NICU. I was the luckiest NICU mama ever because my kid was stable the entire time and all I had to do was snuggle him and wait until he got big enough to eat without support and come home. It was actually a peaceful time in our lives that I look back on with some nostalgia. Not every NICU parent can say that, I know. I've been to the support groups.
After NICU graduation, we started attending our hospital's parenting support classes and that's where I found the community I have clung to since then. Once a week for 15 months, a group of us schlepped ourselves and our babies over to the far corner of the hospital known as the Tan building to hear from each other and our absolutely fabulous instructors about all the things you never knew to ask about early parenthood...the eating, the sleeping, the not sleeping, the eye exams, the financial planning...you name it, they talk about it in the Tan building. In fifteen months we went through four levels of class, from the Wednesday afternoon newborn group through the Thursday morning 9-15 month crowd. Because I had a preemie, I could always fudge the age line a little bit, too, when we weren't ready to move up or graduate to the next class. But when I came for Halloween with my very not 15-month-old anymore, I knew it was probably time. But...could we volunteer?
It turned out yes, we could. And did. We started with the Thursday morning shift, when James went to preschool we started doing Thursday afternoons, and then when Max was born we took some time off, although I actually went to class if I could swing it. And when James started kindergarten in September, Max and I started our regular shift again. Thursday mornings.
The job is not hard. We set the area up, bring out the supplies. We help manage registration, which is honestly mostly done online anyway. We check people in. We monitor the lost and found, make the occasional copies, handle evaluations and if our speakers have handouts we manage that too. The newborn group, which has never been our shift, has nametags. Basically, it's an hour. But we stretch it. We aren't *really* needed once class is going...the afternoon person handles the takedown...I do a sweep after class most days to pick up stray lost and found but if we skipped that no one would notice. So we spend the second hour of our shift...wandering the hospital. We have been in every waiting room in that place. We know where the fish tank is. We have made friends with the therapy dogs. We are regulars at both gift shops. We do the art walk at least once a month. We have played in the outdoor courtyard and the playroom just outside the NICU. James loves to play hide and seek on the 5th floor where there are literally 2 hiding places. He knows which offices have candy. The baristas know our coffee order. James calls the ham, pineapple, onion, and green pepper pizza he can get in the cafeteria the "James special." We also know that the pizza guy pulls out fresh baked cookies at 1. I don't know how long most volunteers in our department last, but I don't think it's four years, which is how long we have been doing it. The Thursday afternoon person has seniority on us, though. Her daughter is 7.
When James was a toddler, he never carried a blankie or a stuffie. He carried a squishy baseball. A lime green baseball named Penelope. We don't know whatever became of Penelope, but he also had a blue and white one named Franklin, and there are others. I remember saying to my husband that it was weird how many people in the hospital actually recognize James. Many more than we know. Well beyond our department. Then again, if I had a job where once a week I saw a toddler wandering around carrying a lime green baseball, I'd remember.
Since James has been in school, it's been Max's turn to wander the hospital. In the fall he was still little enough that we would go to class but now that he's beyond that he's finding his own hidey holes and making his own friends. James used to love riding the escalator (he called it the "octo,") Max prefers running in the little mazes of conference rooms. He has crashed many meetings. And James still comes as often as he can. When there's a Thursday without school he will ask if he gets to go to the hospital and when he does they make a fuss about him. Sometimes when he's in school Miss Tracy and Miss Deborah will write him notes and tell him they miss him.
On February 29, Washington state announced its first death from the corona virus. My sister texted it to me. I was at a children's literature conference. I went away for that weekend and was in a hotel. That seems like a lifetime ago. It is the last social thing I've done. My first thought...that's my hospital. I feel like a part of the community there. I'm not sure I could even name a doctor who works there and I know less than half a dozen nurses and maybe one or two at most by name. Most of the people I know are support staff...the instructors of the classes we volunteer at, the wonderful guys in meeting management who keep that end of the building running, some cafeteria workers. We know the volunteer coordinator and we've had some contacts with a few janitorial staff. A lot of people work in that building.
We haven't been there since the last week in February. For the first couple of days they ran classes and after that they started doing a call in version. I'm glad the classes are still happening. I hope they will start them up in person at some point. I'm hoping they will still need us.
I don't know a lot about the areas of the hospital most affected by what's going on right now. Wandering through the hospital with toddlers makes you not spend a lot of time in the emergency room or ICU so those locations are mostly just hallways we don't walk down and spots on a map to us. But I think of all the people I would see in those hallways, all the medical people and support staff there on the front lines. It makes me proud to be a part of that machine, even a tiny part in a back corner somewhere not essential to the survival of the operation. I want so much to be back there, doing what we do, in ordinary times, when the hospital was my comforting second home. I think I will know all of this is over when life is normal enough that we can be there again. I imagine that time but it's hard to see it in the future right now. It feels so very far away from right now.
Last week the hospital's social media team reported that they were collecting digital thank yous...photos and videos that would be dispersed to staff. James was excited to write them a note and read it, thanking them for taking care of what he calls "the sickness." (I love that term, it feels very Victorian to me.) I got a message from a facebook friend who is a hospital pharmacist saying she saw his picture in one of the weekly emails. I hope it made someone smile. Maybe someone even recognized him as the kid carrying the ball, who knows? It felt like a message you'd send to an old friend. We miss you. We're sorry you're going through hard times right now. We hope to see you soon. We appreciate you. We will do what we can to support you.
In the meantime, while staying at home is just so effing hard, I will try to keep being grateful that I get to do it. Seriously...the stay-at-home mom job was tough before all this. Not fun without its support structures. But I appreciated the dream. For 90 minutes, I got to be in my normal.
And then tonight my husband bought a Chicago style pizza and we had date night at home. Life could indeed be worse.
Today I'm grateful for naps, nurses, the hospital, movie morning, Chicago style pizza, grilled peanut butter and jelly for the kids, fresh air, rolling down the hill, glimpses of sunshine, feeling rested, Harry Potter, my husband, and that I can close facebook. And health. So grateful for health.
I dreamed we were back in the hospital volunteering and our wonderful program lead was drawing pictures and writing notes for James, like she does. But also my friend who is a NICU nurse in another location was there and somehow we got to help in the NICU as well. And there were baby cuddles. And no virus. I felt warm and fuzzy when I woke up. The hospital has oddly become my home away from home.
I have thought once or twice over the years about nursing school. If it had occurred to me as an undergrad maybe I would have done it but I didn't have the temperament for it back then. I think if I had started a nursing career later in life I could have done it but by that time I was far enough down my educational road it was not worth the detour so I never found out. So I'm not a nurse and I know absolutely zero about the medical side of the hospital. However, on the public side...I have been in every nook and cranny of that hospital, believe me.
It started six years ago April 30 when my oldest was born 7 weeks early and we spent 3 weeks in the NICU. I was the luckiest NICU mama ever because my kid was stable the entire time and all I had to do was snuggle him and wait until he got big enough to eat without support and come home. It was actually a peaceful time in our lives that I look back on with some nostalgia. Not every NICU parent can say that, I know. I've been to the support groups.
After NICU graduation, we started attending our hospital's parenting support classes and that's where I found the community I have clung to since then. Once a week for 15 months, a group of us schlepped ourselves and our babies over to the far corner of the hospital known as the Tan building to hear from each other and our absolutely fabulous instructors about all the things you never knew to ask about early parenthood...the eating, the sleeping, the not sleeping, the eye exams, the financial planning...you name it, they talk about it in the Tan building. In fifteen months we went through four levels of class, from the Wednesday afternoon newborn group through the Thursday morning 9-15 month crowd. Because I had a preemie, I could always fudge the age line a little bit, too, when we weren't ready to move up or graduate to the next class. But when I came for Halloween with my very not 15-month-old anymore, I knew it was probably time. But...could we volunteer?
It turned out yes, we could. And did. We started with the Thursday morning shift, when James went to preschool we started doing Thursday afternoons, and then when Max was born we took some time off, although I actually went to class if I could swing it. And when James started kindergarten in September, Max and I started our regular shift again. Thursday mornings.
The job is not hard. We set the area up, bring out the supplies. We help manage registration, which is honestly mostly done online anyway. We check people in. We monitor the lost and found, make the occasional copies, handle evaluations and if our speakers have handouts we manage that too. The newborn group, which has never been our shift, has nametags. Basically, it's an hour. But we stretch it. We aren't *really* needed once class is going...the afternoon person handles the takedown...I do a sweep after class most days to pick up stray lost and found but if we skipped that no one would notice. So we spend the second hour of our shift...wandering the hospital. We have been in every waiting room in that place. We know where the fish tank is. We have made friends with the therapy dogs. We are regulars at both gift shops. We do the art walk at least once a month. We have played in the outdoor courtyard and the playroom just outside the NICU. James loves to play hide and seek on the 5th floor where there are literally 2 hiding places. He knows which offices have candy. The baristas know our coffee order. James calls the ham, pineapple, onion, and green pepper pizza he can get in the cafeteria the "James special." We also know that the pizza guy pulls out fresh baked cookies at 1. I don't know how long most volunteers in our department last, but I don't think it's four years, which is how long we have been doing it. The Thursday afternoon person has seniority on us, though. Her daughter is 7.
When James was a toddler, he never carried a blankie or a stuffie. He carried a squishy baseball. A lime green baseball named Penelope. We don't know whatever became of Penelope, but he also had a blue and white one named Franklin, and there are others. I remember saying to my husband that it was weird how many people in the hospital actually recognize James. Many more than we know. Well beyond our department. Then again, if I had a job where once a week I saw a toddler wandering around carrying a lime green baseball, I'd remember.
Since James has been in school, it's been Max's turn to wander the hospital. In the fall he was still little enough that we would go to class but now that he's beyond that he's finding his own hidey holes and making his own friends. James used to love riding the escalator (he called it the "octo,") Max prefers running in the little mazes of conference rooms. He has crashed many meetings. And James still comes as often as he can. When there's a Thursday without school he will ask if he gets to go to the hospital and when he does they make a fuss about him. Sometimes when he's in school Miss Tracy and Miss Deborah will write him notes and tell him they miss him.
On February 29, Washington state announced its first death from the corona virus. My sister texted it to me. I was at a children's literature conference. I went away for that weekend and was in a hotel. That seems like a lifetime ago. It is the last social thing I've done. My first thought...that's my hospital. I feel like a part of the community there. I'm not sure I could even name a doctor who works there and I know less than half a dozen nurses and maybe one or two at most by name. Most of the people I know are support staff...the instructors of the classes we volunteer at, the wonderful guys in meeting management who keep that end of the building running, some cafeteria workers. We know the volunteer coordinator and we've had some contacts with a few janitorial staff. A lot of people work in that building.
We haven't been there since the last week in February. For the first couple of days they ran classes and after that they started doing a call in version. I'm glad the classes are still happening. I hope they will start them up in person at some point. I'm hoping they will still need us.
I don't know a lot about the areas of the hospital most affected by what's going on right now. Wandering through the hospital with toddlers makes you not spend a lot of time in the emergency room or ICU so those locations are mostly just hallways we don't walk down and spots on a map to us. But I think of all the people I would see in those hallways, all the medical people and support staff there on the front lines. It makes me proud to be a part of that machine, even a tiny part in a back corner somewhere not essential to the survival of the operation. I want so much to be back there, doing what we do, in ordinary times, when the hospital was my comforting second home. I think I will know all of this is over when life is normal enough that we can be there again. I imagine that time but it's hard to see it in the future right now. It feels so very far away from right now.
Last week the hospital's social media team reported that they were collecting digital thank yous...photos and videos that would be dispersed to staff. James was excited to write them a note and read it, thanking them for taking care of what he calls "the sickness." (I love that term, it feels very Victorian to me.) I got a message from a facebook friend who is a hospital pharmacist saying she saw his picture in one of the weekly emails. I hope it made someone smile. Maybe someone even recognized him as the kid carrying the ball, who knows? It felt like a message you'd send to an old friend. We miss you. We're sorry you're going through hard times right now. We hope to see you soon. We appreciate you. We will do what we can to support you.
In the meantime, while staying at home is just so effing hard, I will try to keep being grateful that I get to do it. Seriously...the stay-at-home mom job was tough before all this. Not fun without its support structures. But I appreciated the dream. For 90 minutes, I got to be in my normal.
And then tonight my husband bought a Chicago style pizza and we had date night at home. Life could indeed be worse.
Today I'm grateful for naps, nurses, the hospital, movie morning, Chicago style pizza, grilled peanut butter and jelly for the kids, fresh air, rolling down the hill, glimpses of sunshine, feeling rested, Harry Potter, my husband, and that I can close facebook. And health. So grateful for health.
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