4 Babies and Blue Blebs: One Year

One year ago tonight at midnight the entire medical team for our NICU walked out the door after a non-renewal of their contract by the hospital where I work. There was more than a year of unknown before that day, and there were a lot of reasons behind this and a lot of politics and ugliness surrounding this event, none of which matter anymore. I say they don't matter; they do, but there is no changing what was done, so in that sense, it doesn't matter, and I've tried to lay all of that to rest. What does remain is the memories. The friendships with people I miss every day.

This past year has been a challenge of which I never could've imagined. I truly have thrown myself whole heartedly in trying to rebuild and be a part of my new team. To get to know them and work in harmony. At first it was so weird. Like there were strangers in my house. They were polite, but it was awkward, with neither side knowing quite how to navigate this situation we found ourselves in. It got pretty rough very fast, with so many different people from so many different backgrounds and practices. Collaboration was difficult...continuity impossible.

I was told one day in mid-February by one of our new providers, "You all have lost your groove. It's ok, we'll help you get it back." That was the most discouraging thought, that we were so misunderstood that someone could say that, with no respect or consideration for what has gone on here. We didn't lose our groove. We lost our team. Let me say that again, WE LOST OUR TEAM. And a step further, we lost our family. I try to keep this grief hidden, out of respect for all of them, and also because there is no place for it here in the unit anymore. But I feel the loss daily. I once worked together with providers who valued my contribution to the team, cared enough about us to teach instead of just criticize. We worked in a rhythm so fluidly and smoothly it appeared effortless. We admitted with efficiency, even coded with hands moving together with the surety of each of our roles and the expectations thereof, and with the common goal of saving a life. The more difficult things were, the more we held together. This team knew our hearts, the passion we have for the calling that comes from our souls, the commitment to learning the best and providing it for our patients. They knew the loyalty we had to each other, to this family that we chose, and the trust that comes with it. They knew the things we've seen and done, the battles we've won and lost, the lives we've lived, and the family we are. Do not misunderstand my words; in my heart, I know it is none of my new team's fault, and I try to never even give the appearance of thinking so. But I just wanted them to understand. Understand what it was that we lost, as it certainly was not our "groove." I understand we won't always agree and do not expect that. We didn't always agree with our team in the past. But we discussed things as professionals, and worked through it. Because truly, it is my honest desire to build this team again. To once again work and move together in this work in a seamless, efficient way, providing the very best of care. And I am encouraged because it is getting better. We've kept working. We've fought, conceded things, learned new things, and day by day it is slowly getting better. I try to see the hearts behind the differences, to the one thing that should bring us together...what's best for the babies. When I get discouraged, I try to remember how far we've come this year. I am so grateful for the people I've met this year. Especially those of you that have listened, given us a voice, and made an effort to teach us, THANK YOU. The compassion you have shown us, and the care you exhibit has not gone unnoticed. Taking the time to teach us shows you value our knowledge base and are willing to invest in it. That means so much, and reflects your commitment to the building of this team. Again, thank you. Please know I am still just as committed as ever to building this team. We have to be. We need it, and our babies deserve it.

I have grown so much this year. Learned what it means to advocate, how to be a professional when it isn't easy to do so. Learned about myself and what is important. And I will never stop fighting for what we can and should be. I don't see my efforts for my new team as a betrayal of the one I lost. I see it as the only way I can honor the people who taught me how to be a teammate. I hope they would see what we are doing for our babies and be proud. I hope every day to honor their legacy in the unit that they built.

Today though, I don't think about that. Today I allow myself to remember. I remember what was lost. I remember the dedication and the gifts of the people who built the unit I call home. I remember their care and skill, their hard work and investment. I remember countless meetings, deliveries, transports, admissions, codes, even losses, that we worked through together. I remember limitless laughter and joy, and even tears and grief that we shared, both personal and professional. I remember the people. The people who went from strangers the 21 year old me was in awe of, to colleagues I respected, to friends I counted on, and finally to family that took a piece of my heart when they left. I miss them. Today I remember. And tomorrow I'll go back in and stand beside my new team in whatever fight comes our way.

I made this video for our going away party, many of you may have seen it, or may wish to see it again. Here it is, and here is to the memories. I love you all and will never forget.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/GPvZWemSiaX4KF617

All thoughts and opinions are mine, and not reflective of any healthcare institution. Any identifiable patients shown are with permission.

Music credits: "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac, "Best Days" by Graham Colton, and "Rivers and Roads" by The Head and The Heart