Relatable Shoes Please

Relatable Shoes

I feel a ramble coming on with my words. Through the birth of our grandson a couple days ago, we all were in the trenches of labor along side Natalie and with the nurse who went beyond her job and into our family. Her heart for each of us built a bond, a relationship. It was incredible when she left at 7ish am that the nurse who took over was her older sister. Now we were definitely in the hands of family. As this sister had to step out between depleting yet productive pushes from our exhausted daughter, we felt comforted to know that her sister would once again take over. That didn’t happen but the new beauty that stepped in was just who we needed for those final moments of labor. However, the doc that stepped in was not such a good fit. With her fancy shoes on her toes to the way she only put on one glove and acted like she didn’t want to roll up her sleeves and get in this. She stood out as the ‘above it all’ and so unnecessary piece of this well oiled team/machine. 

Our niece was fresh from class to become a nurse and so was in her scrubs and working shoes. That she stepped right in to support Natalie’s leg on one side as Nate supported the other giving the nurse position to help baby Felix. I was at Natalie’s shoulder to support her by holding her hand and supporting her shoulders. Ronnie B. stayed tucked in a corner of the room to be present but not get a full on view. He was help from the cheap seats reminding me to lift our girl when she got nauseated. 

So our shoes were casual or in the case of the medical peeps there durable and able to sustain the task at hand. The docs shoes were to impress. Although I would think the only one to be impressed would be other physicians. I was certainly not impressed. On the contrary, I found them inappropriate and unrelatable. She had not come to participate. She had come to observe, get her pay and let others clean up. The worst thing was she had not come to join in and become a part of this beautiful experience. At one point as she was condescending, Natalie almost fumed that she was educated. She had done her research as a mom and this woman would have known that if she had bothered to find out more than how close the babies head was to crowning.. 

Ronnie B. says I am too judging of this woman. I realize it is only her job to be there for the few moments and out. But she could have tweaked a couple of things to be in the room. Wear shoes to work, roll up her sleeves, notice the heart and face of your patient and her people not just her birth canal. Treat the nurses we love with respect and don’t command them when they know more about the room than you. Harshness isn’t productive or appreciated. Wear shoes that make you relateable not above us. 

I realize this ramble may sound too narrow minded toward the doctor but really it is a tribute to the nurses. Our sister was not assigned to us for a second night however she came in to meet Felix and rub a rogue strand of hair from Natalie’s blissfully, exhausted forehead. She took a few moments to write in the little book that had our grandson’s footprints in them. Most of all she was wearing her working shoes to be present for the next mom who needed her to step beside them through her journey of birth. My takeaway is that I would much prefer to be the ob nurse who drove to work in a Prius than the doc who showed up at the last moment in her Tesla. After all it is ultimately our job not our paycheck that rewards us in life. Here is to Stacy, her sister Michele and Fotsimad who weren’t just doing a job but were wearing their relatable shoes and hearts for others. 

In Him,

Joyful

2-22-20