A Little Perspective.

Be warned- this is not such a happy post. It is more like a super depressing why-does-crap-like-this-happen kind of post. But this was my weekend, so here goes.

Last night at work a baby died. Everybody did everything they possibly could, but the baby did not make it. She was due tomorrow. Her mom had a placental abruption and she could've died also, but they managed to stabilize her and she should hopefully be okay, except for the obvious. I've worked in Labor & Delivery for five years, and this was the first time I've ever seen anything like this. I know it occasionally happens, and I have seen way more than my share of stillbirths, 2nd trimester losses and very sick tiny babies being rushed to the NICU or transported to Children's hospital. It always sucks and I hate it, but fortunately we have a whole lot more happy deliveries than terrible ones.

Whenever we have a slow night in L&D, everyone tends to get just a little on edge. Saturday night was lovely. We were overstaffed, we had only a few laboring patients and everything seemed to be nice & peaceful. Then at 1:35am the elevator doors opened and all hell broke loose. The baby was out by 1:44 and a code was called immediately, which involves loud alarms and loudspeaker announcements and running and stressed faces. I had the mom's family asking me what a Code 4 was, did that mean the baby was being born, was that normal? You can't exactly say "not really, that means the baby has no heartbeat and needs major help." You can't really say anything, at least until the doctor comes out at 2:05 & asks you where there is an empty room so they can inform the family. Then you want to say the F-word. A whole lot. Especially when you know the mom is still under general anethesia and will wake up to the most horrific news ever.

After the baby was born, I went to find a dress for her. Did you know there are little old ladies who make dresses for babies that will not live? They are sweet and elaborate and heartbreaking. They sew them and package them in bags with notes that say "In memory of ..." and you wonder who that baby was & what happened. There are also tiny hats and booties and soft blankets and quilts that must take so much time to make. The baby was cleaned and dressed and wrapped and given to her mother to hold. They wanted pictures taken and I took them. I took pictures of the mom and baby, and both parents and the baby, and the dad kissing her perfect head. Some people think it's morbid or wierd to have pictures taken, but it is the only clear memory these poor people will have of their daughter. Today they will probably have a photographer from www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org come in and take much better photos than the ones from the hospital's cheap little digital camera. They will be softened and retouched and hopefully will comfort the family.

On the way home I stopped and bought donuts with pink sprinkles for my girls. I hugged them very tight and they pushed me away too soon and went after the donuts instead. When I woke up, they were dressed like fairies and on their way to a birthday party.

And yesterday I was complaining about a flat tire. And a cold sore.

I could get all philosophical about why this happens, and do some fist-shaking at God, but that just tires me out. It just happens, and that's all there is. There might be a reason, there might not. My brain cannot wrap itself around it and frankly, I don't want to. After seeing too many wacked out crack whores going home with healthy babies they don't deserve (and you can bet money those babies will more than likely be back in 15 years, pregnant, with their own positive tox screens), while next door is the nice family that's been trying for 10 years and end up losing their baby in the 7th month, my views have drastically changed. Things just happen and it sucks. Sperm+Egg= Baby, no matter how good and deserving or wicked and terrible you are.

So now that's out of my system. Later I will post many exciting things about how much fun Eric had at the Fairy Princess party, and how we found out this weekend that Ella is terrified of Chuck E Cheese (or as Ella said- that giant hamster thing) and I'm pretty sure I will go back to complaining about random non-critical annoying crap, probably by tomorrow. Because seriously, if I can live a lifetime of being mildly annoyed, I will be a very lucky girl.