There are some days that I really hate my job. For the most part, I love what I do. I love guiding new life into this world with my own hands and seeing that miracle over and over again. But there are some days and some women that make it so hard. Today is one of those days. It's three o'clock in the morning - Christmas morning - and I was called in to evaluate a woman who is not due until late January. So her baby is still 4+ weeks early. She had her last baby 4 weeks early and that baby ended up in Norfolk with breathing problems. But she doesn't care about that - she told me as much. She wants the baby out. She's tired of being pregnant. She's tired of the backache. She doesn't really care about the consequences to the baby at this point because she can't look beyond her own discomfort. She isn't willing to tolerate the discomfort for the sake of her baby anymore.
I've interacted with this woman before, when the baby was almost two months early, and she wanted it out then. She was very unpleasant then. She's even more so now. She's nineteen years old. This is her third child.
This is something that I don't understand. Can't relate to. This wanting the baby out no matter what harm might come to it. And then the being so nasty to the person who is walking in the room for the sole purpose of taking care of you and your baby. I was in the room less than a minute and she was in my face, angry and confrontational, as if I'm the cause of her problem. I don't understand it. She's not even in labor. If she was in labor, part of that would be very understandable to me. But this is just.........
Ah, well. It's Christmas. Merry Christmas to me. I haven't been to sleep yet. I've been knitting. I'm counting the hours until I am off call. A week off after that. How glorious that'll be. I came to the realization in February of 2005 that working with human beings is not supposed to be easy. There's really not much easy about it. I was worried about being burned out. But I wasn't burned out. I was tired. And I was discouraged by what I saw day in and day out. Angry women bringing children into an angry world - the combination of those two tends to diminish my hope. It's hard. No one ever said it was supposed to be easy. And it's not. When I remember that, I am much more forgiving of myself and my bouts of frustration. I remain very worried about the world around me, but I give myself permission to say, "This is hard work."
God gave me a job to do. I was called to do this work - because it's more than just a job for me. It's a calling. It's what I was meant to do.
I sometimes wish I'd been called to put together appliances and lawnmowers at Lowe's Hardware - at night when the store is closed. I'd get to use tools. I'd get to tinker. It would be quiet. Frustrations would be few and would probably leave when I walked out the door and headed home at the end of my shift. That's what I plan to do in my next career - put together lawnmowers at Lowe's at night.
This midwife thing isn't all bad. I do witness some beautiful births and have women who actually smile when they come in and actually really do want to do what's best for their babies. I still hear angels sometimes when I catch a little one in my hands. When everything is just so. And there is a reverence in the room - then I can hear the angels ushering the little one from one world into another. I used to hear them often. Not so often anymore, but their songs are a gift to me when I do.
I'm going to crawl into the little bed in the call room now and sleep for a couple of hours. I still have presents to wrap, a sweater to finish, packing to do, and an apple pie to bake today.
Merry Christmas, one and all. God bless us every one.
Peace.
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