RN: Judge and Jury - Ch 6

Julie Reyes, DNP, RN

As I sit in the stands at my daughter's soccer game, I am furiously trying to catch up on my chapters I should have already read in my Maternal Newborn textbook. I feel the darkness of an unwanted presence hovering over my shoulder and look up to see my ex-husband. "Studying?" "Yeah, what's up?" "How is school?" he asks as he settles in for a conversation I have no time for. "Fine." "How are your grades?"

It is at this point that I can recall the countless number of times he has told me that I am not "smart enough to be anything but a teacher" (his exact words - and he is a teacher). I remember the repetition of his dire warnings that I was stupid and would fail if I went into healthcare. I can feel the heat rising in my chest like bile. "School is fine, my grades are fine." "Really? If your grades are 'so fine', then what is your GPA?" At this point I am wondering if I can use my textbook as a weapon. However, I know the next words out of my mouth are going to be daggers to him and **** him off. "4.0". Silence. And then - "I guess that's cause you are not going to a REAL school".

Yeah - that's it - a major university is not a "real school". But instead I laughed the sort of laugh you give when someone says something moronic. I thought how lucky I was that I do not have to deal with that anymore. I roll my eyes and turn my back on him, I have to study, and by study, I mean ignore him so that I don't do or say anything I can get arrested for.

It's funny how quick tempered I get when I am stressed out. Nursing school will do that. I am on edge constantly. As I walk down the hospital hallway towards my patient's rooms to assess my postpartum mothers, I reflect back on the nurses I had after I gave birth. Nope, I don't remember any of them except one. I wonder if it was because there were so many new and exciting things happening in my life at the time - a new baby - and scared straight!! Would these new parents ever remember their nurses? Maybe.

I assess the new mommies, help one of them learn to breastfeed, and walk back to the nurses station to fill out my reports. I actually have a huge chip on my shoulder at this time - I am tired, frustrated - I do not like this rotation at all because it is NOT my cup of tea. As I sit there at the desk, just barely tolerating existence, this huge, scary looking man walks in the unit and down the hallway. "What is this world coming to?" I ask myself.

I have actually written about this - you can read the story at this link (it will help you to understand the rest of this story): I wish I were blind.

I am glad I am done with my postpartum days and can move on to actually seeing a delivery. Maybe I will like this - or I hope I will. My patient is a 17 year old girl who is 17 weeks pregnant and in labor. Her mother and boyfriend are in the room, and the nurse I am following for the day is the most amazing LVN (yes - at this point in history, we used the term "LVN") - this girl knows her stuff. I cannot imagine what this poor mother is going through. She is scared and in so much pain. I care for her throughout the day, but I feel like a deer in the headlights myself.

After hours of contractions, the baby is delivered. There is not a team to care for the premature infant, the baby has died in utero. My preceptor and I take the infant to another room and put his handprints and footprints in a tiny card. His hands are the size of the tip of my pinky finger. He is a little boy - all of his anatomy appears correct. He is so tiny, the width of my palm is bigger than he is. We want to take him to his mother to let her hold him, but we cannot put him in a blanket - it is too big. Instead, we wrap him in a washcloth.

We head back to the room and as I hold the baby in the hallway, the nurse goes in to talk to the family and ask them if they would like to see the baby. Everyone refuses to see this little boy I hold in my hand, and I am confused. That was not the answer I was expecting. The nurse returns to the hallway and leads me back to the room we were in. We will have the tech care for the remains. Since the baby is not 20 weeks gestation, there will not be a funeral.

I feel like I am in a fog - I don't understand the family decision to not see the baby - or how the young mother could be in the room laughing with her boyfriend as I hold the body of her child in the palm of my hand. I become frustrated about the decisions this family has just made! What is WRONG with them???

Then I remember the incident with the huge, scary man walking down the hallway the week before. I don't know the circumstances, I don't know the lives these people live, I don't know....anything! So how is it that I have put myself up as judge and jury? I take a deep breath and let out a sigh. I am NOT a judge, and I am NOT the jury. I realize this family is coping in the best way that they know how. I look down at the baby one last time and touch his tiny face.

This is not at all a great day. My decision to never work in this area of nursing is sealed, and my admiration for the nurses who do has just been kicked up about a hundred notches.

I have never been so glad to have a rotation end. The lessons I have learned about not judging others has been seared into my heart. You just never know.