This post doesn’t start as a joyful story, I’m afraid, so I apologise to any of you who only want happy vibes during the festive season.
But it does have a turn of events, I promise, and if you stay with me until the end, hopefully this blog post will unexpectedly warm up your heart and get you into the Christmas mood more than a hot chocolate in front of a Christmas tree.
First, let me read the diary page that I wrote on the 25th of December 2022.
We were staying at Westmead Children’s Hospital, in the ward for cardiac babies, and our daughter Beatrice was still recovering from the heart surgery she had when she was 8 days old.
Here it goes:
It’s 10 pm on Christmas Day and I still have to finish cleansing my face and brushing my teeth since 8 pm.
In these days it’s hard even to find the time to pee, between expressing milk, reminding myself to eat and drink (otherwise there’s no breast milk!) and trying to settle my baby girl Beatrice.
She’s not even 4 weeks old and she’s been having episodes of withdrawal from morphine; it’s so overwhelming to see her like this, but it’s the only way for her to get better.
After the open-heart surgery, when she was 8 days old, and the initial recovery in PICU and in the Grace Ward, we’re living together in the Edgar Stephen Ward, hoping to get home soon.
And yet tonight it’s hard: she won’t settle, she keeps crying, I’m alone with her and we are both exhausted.
The nurses are doing the hand over between shifts, so they can’t help me, but they called the team leader to help me settle my little girl.
She comes to the cot, sits my baby up, starts patting on her back quite harshly (although my newborn likes a softer touch) and then she vigorously puts the pacifier in Beatrice’s mouth.
I tell her that Beatrice has Kabuki Syndrome and has hypotonia, so she can’t suck on the dummy for more than a few seconds, especially if she’s upset.
The team leader is not listening to me, she keeps that dummy in my baby’s mouth even though she’s not wanting it, even if she’s getting purple with all the screaming and she’s trying to reject the dummy.
It’s too much, I can’t stay there and watch: I approach my baby on the other side of the cot and I put an arm around Beatrice.
“Please…”, I beg.
At that point the team leader lets my baby go and says “Well, then you do it!”
“I’m trying to explain that she has a syndrome…you have never seen her, I have stayed with her for the past 4 weeks, I know what she likes and doesn’t like…”, I say.
She goes away, comes back with a blanket and adds: “I’ve been working with babies for the past 22 years, I know my way around babies!”, and then off she goes, leaving me alone with my baby once more.
Was it really necessary, to get so offended by the respectful request of a concerned mother?
Isn’t it hard enough to be first time parents and spend the first Christmas as a family in an hospital?
Isn’t it hard enough to see your newborn undergo an open-heart surgery in bypass, and know that she will likely need a similar surgery in 6-12 months?
Isn’t it hard enough to find out on the 22nd of December that your baby has a rare syndrome, and that she’ll need much more support and many more visits with specialists, for the rest of her life?
Being an experienced nurse shouldn’t mean that you’re always right, and that it’s your way or nothing; it should mean that you have seen so many families struggle with so many different issues, that you can address their needs in multiple ways, with respect and understanding.
I’m tired, I’m so tired of this.
It’s incredible to see how reading these lines is still affecting me after 2 years.
This is a lot to process, but I want to get to my final point, so I’ll keep going.
First of all, I completely forgot about the withdrawal from the morphine.
That was nasty. Believe me, you don’t want to see your baby withdrawing from drugs, that’s awful.
If I could just go back in time, like the ghost of Christmas past, I’d love to give a big hug to myself back then and tell her that she’s doing a great job.
She’s a different Minie from who I am now. She was a nice girl, that Minie; she was sweet, always apologetic, not the Minie I’m now.
But that’s for another story.
I also have to add to this page of diary that the day after I complained about this nurse to the nurse manager of that ward; although she apologised to me for the unfortunate episode, she concluded that “sometimes different personalities don’t get along well”.
I will not comment on that, I will just limit myself to smile and say that she wouldn’t have gotten away with that, with the Minie of Christmas present, but that’s ok.
As I said, I was a very nice lady back then.
Let’s move on. We need to get to the point.
This memory has been very intense, for me. That night has added an extra wound on top of the many traumas that I have had in my motherhood journey so far. And it happened on Christmas day, so it’s linked to one of the most important and meaningful festivities of our family and our traditions.
I have hated that nurse for 2 years. I have held grudge against her for 2 years.
For 2 years, every time I was passing in front of that ward, I have had flashed of that night in my mind.
And I have been so angry at her, for 2 entire years.
It was the first Christmas we had with our daughter, and we spent it in a hospital.
We are migrants, we don’t have anyone else here in Australia: it’s just me, my husband, and our little girl.
We had to see our daughter poked by doctors since birth, attached to many machines and drugged with morphine, with her chest open for 2 days, and then withdrawing with high fevers, sweats, vomit and restlessness.
We were tired, scared, still completely in shock after the diagnosis of the syndrome which was completely unexpected.
And then, on Christmas night, that nurse gave me that disgusting treatment? And even got away with that?
How is this fair? How is this acceptable?
But: it’s Christmas. And Christmas means something to me.
You guys might have noticed it or not, but I never talk about religion on social media. I’m no prophet, it is not up to me to spread Truths and Beliefs, and I tend to live my spirituality in the intimacy of my heart.
This I will say though: I am religious and Christmas to me means way more than presents and holidays. It is a time, for me, to pray for the Gift of Forgiveness.
So today I want to ask for forgiveness and give forgiveness, with an open heart.
I want to accept that we are all human and we all make mistakes.
I want to consider that maybe that nurse had a very bad day; maybe she was heartbroken, and she didn’t realise how hurtful she had been.
I want to forgive her, no matter her circumstances.
I want to move on, and let go of a wound that, year by year, is destined to become a small, faded scar, covered by the immense joy and love that our small family experiences every day.
Finally, I want to ask for forgiveness, because I’m not perfect either.
I ask for forgiveness from all those that I hurt, I ask for forgiveness for all the times that I pointed out people’s limits instead of embracing their value.
I ask for forgiveness, because so many lovely nurses helped us during our stay at that ward, and I focused on remembering the one name of the nurse that hurt me instead of remembering the many names of those who helped me.
I pray that Minie from Christmas Yet to Come will have learned to forgive more, will have learned to accept God’s plan, will have learned to let go of grudge and resentment.
And I pray for you all, my friends.
May you all have a wonderful Christmas with your beloved ones, far, far away from hospitals.
Stay safe, ciao.
Comentarios