Skitzy Little Flusterball

I want to write you a softy meaningful post about life, love, and your own little corner of the struggle bus but when I start typing I just end up screwing around and finding an internet video that describes a strange work event.  The problem is that most of these little animations depict my shallowest thoughts about any given nursey situation.  So after you scan through all the GIFs below you are probably going to think I am one big butt face, and you will be correct.

It’s pretty much as follows in the Magical Land of Nuggets and Nighshifts:

Enthusiasm at the start of the shift:


When a team buddy calms your frazzled-butt down after you’ve lost a little more of your cool than you thought you would that night:


When you take a patient to postpartum and you are a big (*insert choice term) about a bleeding disagreement with the nurse, which turns into a mountain-out-of-a-molehill situation that you end up behaving poorly about because you are a tired,  over-sensitive adult child who needs to calm the heck down.  And all during your post night-shift nap you keep mentally reliving you’re awful self and tone of voice towards your friends and want to crawl in a hole and accept a punishment.




Getting to work, realizing you have an awesome team and are almost excited to be there.  But then your shift brings you back to reality and you don’t care about anything but getting in your car and driving away..


When you look up at the fetal heart rate monitor at your team station and realize your patient’s naughty baby has been in a nasty little decel for about a few seconds too long…  Get your bubble butt in there chickie-pey and fix her!


When my patient asks me  how old I am and looks kinda scared when they find out that a person who was an infant when they went through puberty holds their baby’s intrauterine survival in their hands:


When you walk into your patient’s room to get report and instead of report you call a Condition O..realizing that the nutshell desk report is all you’re gonna get and now you’re the one who has to take the baton now and run with what ya got.


When I get assigned preterm twins who won’t stay on the monitor.


When the patients FOB is a total jag


When the patient keeps using random medical terminology irrelevantly (or incorrectly) just to point out that they work in some area of the medical field.  


Talking with patients at 3am…


After handling a baby straight from the shoot without remembering to have gloves on…


When Jonathan asks how my day was:


After a glorious uncomplicated, mom-smiling birth:


Each shift handing off report to the next shift on the super high-risk patient who everybody wants to have delivered but not really on their shift……


Still trying to fit in with the group conversation at your team station:


When my patient is a bonafide functional adult member of society with manners, reasoning ability, stable home life and amazingly realistic expectations and good pain tolerance.

How I feel every time I walk in their room

The last shift before you go on vacation:


When you watch the baby canal tear and try to not freak out:


Coming into work at 3am for on-call (after you’ve worked the past 3 days).


Listening to the patient’s mom talk endlessly about her own deliveries 20+ years ago and use every opportunity to re-direct the conversation to something about her.  (or ask when we do a c-section, tell the patient that she did this labor thing X No. of times, ask the patient how much she “appreciates” her now as her mother etc…..)

We just love hearing that you had 2 deliveries in the 1980s that were somehow worse than whatever your daughter is experiencing now.  Please simmer down.

When an MD pressures another nurse to turn up your patient’s pitocin drip up when they are already tachysystole and not 10 minutes after turning it back down and charting about it the MD calls you to ask why the Pit was turned down…….

That phone conversation pretty much summarized above.

Having a dream about being assigned a T-Rex water birth.  And you have to put on scuba gear and swim to adjust the FHR monitor…(dodging claws).  Oh, and then you have to tell the mom that her baby dino had to go to the NICU.



So if you didn’t just skim through those and think I was a crusty mean nurse you probably work with me.  If you work with me you (hopefully!) don’t think I’m too mean but you do probably get the sense I’m a bit skitzy and generally a little fluster ball…but with good intentions!



Breaking Blue

This sweet wine mug was a gift from a dear postpartum nurse friend and ally!  It’s great, she’s great I miss the people in black&white ❤

Remember when I spent my last semester of nursing school binge-watching Breaking Bad?  Then there was Downton Abby (and then Matthew died and I couldn’t move on).  A few weeks ago I stumbled on this number ‘Jane The Virgin’ thinking it would be a re-make of ‘Secret Life of the American Teenager’ (yes…I watched that too..) and it basically is.  Except for it knows that it’s a crazy show and totally plays it up so it works!  Anyways, a few weeks ago I found out that the newest episodes aren’t on Netflix.  Shoot.  So while waiting for J.T.V to get updated on the streaming service I’m willing to pay for, I resorted to test-tasting ‘Orange Is The New Black’.  Ever heard of it?  Probably.  I’d heard of it but really wasn’t planning on watching it because watching a story about a gal in a ladies prison just didn’t appeal to me (…and a high school science teacher becoming a methamphetamine drug lord did….?).  After 2 episodes before working a nightshift  I couldn’t keep going.  Not because I wasn’t getting into the storyline a bit, but because all the emotions it was swimming through (and some of the character/environmental set-up) was totally giving me deja-vu to working in a womens hospital.  Not the way to walk into night shift eh? Oh yeah, and I’m not saying that my workplace is a prison.  Just that is shares a lot of the same emotional waves and colleague relations that are portrayed in this particular drama that takes place in a womens prison!  (but without the lesbian sex), and we have a ton of sharp things everywhere that we aren’t strip-searched for.  Thank goodness because I’d be incarcerated for the rest of my life for the number of times I find packages of needles in my washing machine…oops.

I can’t figure out if I like this show or not.  It depends how close I am to my next shift.  But for real this so reminds me of learning the ropes of bedside nursing (especially womens health!!) Not so much about patient-nurse relations but more of nurse-nurse relations.  It’s a total jungle out there. If you work in a hospital you know what I mean.  As a new nurse you are the Piper Chapman of your environment and you will probably meet a Miss Claudette, a Red, a Nicky, and maybe a Yoga Jones.  You will most definitely have a Crazy Eyes on your unit.  A lot of people won’t be able to recall her name but they definitely know who she is by some notable feature .  Nothing labels you as the unit ‘Crazy Eyes’ quite like running into a resident in a public restroom outside of work and staring at them for about 30 seconds before saying:

Me: “you work at Magee right?  So do I.”

Resident: “oh! yeah. I know you…” *looks confused*

Me: “it’s the hair.”

Resident: “It really is.”

So here’s the scuttle at work and life:


When your preceptor surveys your face after saying you’re going to do something solo…


When the physician points out the stupid thing you did, and another nurse looks at you with the “What The Heck Is She Even Doing?..Look” (the answer is: I DO NOT KNOW! I’ll let you  know when that changes, but if you’ve got a minute to spare I could really use another set of hands to help me slap a band-aid over whatever this nutzo situation is! K. Thanks.)


But you still manage to behave accordingly:


Angrily shoving your scrubs into the scrub machine’s mouth after a bad day:


…but when you get into your shower:

Nothing like a hot shower with the essential oils of “Failure” “Shame” and “Insecurity”

When you catch a nosy family member looking at the computer chart in the patient’s room and deciding they can interpret the fetal heart rate tracing/contraction pattern to the patient instead of you.

Patient’s Mom: “so when do we go for a c-section?”                        Me: “labor is long.”

Postpartum Throwback: When it’s 30 min before shift change and you have a mag patient who just lost BOTH IV access sites, and a patient being ruled out for a PE all the sudden:

How the heck am I going to explain this to the oncoming nurse??!

How I actually spend my off days:


When your admission is kinda bossy/defensive and says she’s going to have a natural birth…

Listen, I’m all for you achieving your dream of feeling your vagina rip in half but how about you tone it down and just see how this goes eh?  Nobody is going to force an epidural up your spine, we  won’t need to because I’m 80% sure you’ll try to put it in yourself at some point. **Really guys, I’m a full on supporter of natural-goers, when they get it done it’s so cool and you feel so happy for them because they are proud of themselves–as anyone should be after having a baby no matter how they do it!

What the Mother-Baby unit looks like between 10am and 1pm and everyone is trying to leave. (Doctors, nurses, patients, discharges, students, and visitors all trying to move at the same time in the same place.  Oh, plus babies.)


When a (rather bossy-self-important-slightly-too-well-read) patient says that her pain isn’t under control because we’re giving her Motrin and her doctor said to take ibuprofen. 

Let’s fix that med order STAT!….

LDR vs. Postpartum on a Bad Day:


**This is for funny sake, we all have bad days and sometimes the nature of our positions sort of pits us up for frustration towards other departments even when it really isn’t anything the other did.  You’re just a tired grump who doesn’t want a 6:50pm admission.

Being asked to do skin-to-skin in the OR when you have 5 scheduled and 2 surprise c-sections back to back:


Trying to use the new online scheduling system:


When you’re about to go into a room to NAN a baby and a provider (whom you’ve never seen before in your life) pulls you aside and says “I know she’s planning on bottlefeeding but can you just get her to breastfeed?  Tell her the baby looks like he wants to breastfeed.” You:


*I will never guilt-convert a mom to breastfeeding.  I will offer/explain and if she seems curious I’ll help her, encourage her etc… BUT if she flat out says she’s bottlefeeding, has 1+ other kids I’m not even going there. 

Charge nurses making assignments for the next shift:


 When parents watch you do anything in the nursery:


 When your patient tells you she’ll never send her baby to the nursery because “they hit the babies down there!”…ok so I’ll make a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ crib card for your kid…


When you see the next shift come on and you’re team is exploding with deliveries, security has been called several times for crazy family members and a then there’s a Code Blue:



So I tried to find more nice-not-irritated GIFs and funnies to share with you about how many super cool patient and nurse interactions I’ve had recently too and then I got tired of making my computer over-heat with all the animations on it’s desktop. In case I never told you (because I never talk to you anymore..) I had a little work-shift recently.  I transferred from the Mother-Baby Unit to Labor & Delivery.  You know what is funny?  (and kind of sad) for the time I was feeling the itch to do something else the only thing I was sure of was that I didn’t want to do L&D.  I was 100% positive that it was the last place on nursey earth I would willingly sell myself too and so now I’m there…makes total sense.  No really, for me it kinda does!   Lately my life trend has been “Everything happening out of the blue and all at once or not at all”.  So I guess this fits.

Leaving my first nurse job was really hard because it’s hard to leave somewhere you finally feel somewhat comfortable/capable, and where you’re plugged into the social scuttle with friends and people who look out for you and help you survive the day.  Entering a different unit in the same hospital doesn’t have all the difficulties of changing work environments entirely but it still has it’s share of transitional oddities.  People can be familiar with you but not have the same connection and support that you built with your previous unit.  That takes time and unfortunately you sort of have to prove yourself all over again 😦 And by that I mean you have to demonstrate that you are able to carry out safe patient care on that unit and contribute to your team effectively.  I remember this from starting on postpartum too, it felt like everyone had to be my teacher and not my friend and I was drowning.  This is not bad really, it is how it has to be while you are new until you can swim without arm floaties.  Plus, it’s better to have more eyes on you than too few.  But being the new kid on the playground is lonely, you know how that is.

So for now I’m helping birth the bebbies and living like anyone would live when they see a lot of concentrated glory and sin.  Which is basically living to go home and sleep off your emotions.  I am actually terrified of each shift I have yet to complete of my labor/delivery nurse life and my main coping mechanisms are melatonin, yoga and car crying.  At this rate I’ll live till I’m 30.   *JOKES GUYS,jokes.*  I’m probably going to make it a few more years after that but the whole living in terror of not knowing how to handle a situation or doing something that might hurt a patient or kill their baby (not to mention the possibility of being torn in half by the law if they take you to court) is a little overwhelming when you think about it for more than 5 seconds…

The other day Jonathan was encouraging me after work by saying how if there was a situation in which I didn’t know what to do or was scared all I needed to do was call for help.  My response was not my proudest moment but it was the eruption of a cold fact–help isn’t always a certainty.  There are times when there is nobody available to come help.  The charge nurse is in a delivery, your team is all having issues at once.  The whole unit is trying to bail out the water but we feel the boat struggle to stay above water.  And it’s true for all of medicine but so so much in birth—Minutes Matter.  Each minute waiting for a baby’s heart rate to return to baseline is another minute of potential wasted time if it ends in going to the operating room.  What if I wait too long?  What if my slowness to act or know what to do causes permanent damage to a newborn or worse–permanent sorrow to a family?  What if I act incorrectly and loose the respect of my coworkers and the confidence of my patient?  What if I try to do the right thing and then I get an email in my inbox to have a conference with the manager over a bad situation?  What if I get deposed and find out in that case I forgot to chart my interventions? So yes, in most cases I always have help at hand.  But I have to think and prepare like I will have none.  Maybe this isn’t the best way to think but for now it’s how I’m learning to cope with great responsibility and great fear of what can happen.

Aside from the gloom and doom of my catastrophic “chicken little” style thoughts up there I can’t not give great admiration and credit to the nurses I work with, both in my postpartum experience and now in labor &  delivery.  They are super and I love watching each individual nurses strengths.  Someone is a toco wizard while another is awesome at IV’s and another can bring calm to any crazy meltdown, not to mention the charge nurses who make you feel like things are just gonna have to be O.K. no matter what.  There’s nothing quite like needing help and the nurse who walks in the door saves your nursey butt! (or at least makes you look less dumb in front of the patient) Believe me, I know this feeling well 😉   When staffing is horrible and the expectations placed by management are insane, nurses protect their own.  The nurses I watch in the labor suite survive on teamwork and maybe that’s part of why I fear the breakdown/lack of the team.  In reality over the short time I’ve been learning how to do labor&delivery I have always had helpful teams and preceptors.  I know that 99% of the time that is the case and it’ll be fine.  But that doesn’t really make me feel less crazy.

I think the thing that keeps me level (at least while on the clock) is meditating on the belief that God goes before me in that next shift.  He already knows the patients I will care for and he has predetermined that our paths will cross as part of his plan.  Even when I am angry, fearful and don’t see a good reason for things to occur in the way they occur or when I feel extremely incompetent to deal with a patient or situation.

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8

The other day I was discussing the question of what make it ‘easier’ to believe in Heaven.  My thoughts about Heaven and Hell have changed over my life and now Heaven to me is when God makes everything right, redeemed, and relationships whole again.  Hell is a space without God and therefore void of relationship–which to a creature built for relationship is death.  Seeing sin and sorrow doesn’t weaken my belief that there is a God or Heaven, it just heightens my need to see them.  Listening to a man curse at the mother of his child, seeing fear in a man’s face as his wife is emergently whisked away to the operating room, looking at a mother’s face fall when the last bit of hope for a miracle is dashed and her stillborn is really dead.  To zip a tiny body bag shut over small blue feet decorated with a yellow tag.  Those are the moments when our souls simultaneously cry out “God, why!?” and “God…when?”.  And after that surge, there can be a small peace.  A small place of great calm and rest in the hope of Heaven.  Not in a self-righteous place of reward for earthly living, but in the real dwelling place of a relational God who pursues us most fervently in the midst of our sin and our broken world.   The Heaven he will build on earth in His own time, which is far beyond our comprehension.  So I guess my real coping mechanism is just I have to believe that it won’t be this way someday, and that for now there is wonderful glory in even the darkest moments through the kind souls I work with and the souls we are privileged to care for.

As always, if all that I just said there isn’t your cup of tea that is all good and I just say those things because it’s my blog and I’ll theologically cry if I want too but am so happy you stuck around even if it was just for kicks.  So much love to you!

Thanks for listening!  Hope you’re day is rad.

Also, if the title of this post is confusing and irrelevant, you’re right.  It was my weak attempt to referencing one of my favorite TV shows and the change from me wearing black&white scrubs to blue scrubs.  Haha, thanks for indulging me..





Pretzel Day

Do you remember how Stanley feels about Pretzel Day?


I’m all in with him. There are few things that get my German half as giddy as a fresh soft pretzel+mustard+beer (about 1/2 of a bottle because then I’m done and want to move on to whiskey). And you know what kind of pretzel/mustard I’m talking about.  the salty/shiny thick crunch dark blanket of crust over a soft chewy hunk of hot dough…..yeah.  I need to take off my sweater now.

And as for mustard, it has to be that super grainy/mustard seed stuff.  None of that yellow glue. Last night my sleeping wish was that it wouldn’t snow and that I’d get called off work.  Of course I really didn’t expect either to happen and wasn’t really leaning on those but low and behold BOTH arrived at 5am this morning!!!


So I got up with the Sweet Jon-Athan and we had some early morning coffee and after he left I got myself all snugged in my bowl-chair and bathrobe, and continued to caffeinate while doing a little Bible study time.

A picture of me between 6am and 10am today.  Sent to the sweet man who worked.

(don’t get me wrong here, this is day 2 of an earnest attempt to do so actual Bible readin’ (I’m doing this study and trying this devotional /I really it feels like school but it does get me to spill my crazy beans out to God more than I normally would so all in all, probably something that I could do a little more often.  We will see how long this 2 day steak lasts.  My guess is till tomorrow because then I actually have to work and it will be too easy to take 0% of what I read and prayed for into real challenging life and I will then need to start back on square one on Friday.)

So yeah the sky didn’t open and dump winter diarrhea all over Pittsburgh!! PLUS I totally didn’t have to go into work and it was glorious and I felt like the kid who found out school was canceled and they thought it was a dream but it was real!

So after snuggling with coffee and light snow outside I decided I had to bake something.  Now, I’m trying to cut back on sugar baking because I just end up eating way too much of it and Jonathan is giving up sweets for Lent, and he is one of my very favorite people to make sweet stuff for so if he won’t eat it…well it’s just not as much fun (and I actually just eat all of it then).  So I got over my yeast-fear and bumped out some homemade soft pretzels.  Not gonna brag but…guys Auntie Anne has nothin’ on me. I got this pretzel thing down like…well like I flushed it down the toilet.  But I want to draw any connotation between my pretzels and the toilet apart now so lets move on!

Here is the recipe I used. It was so much easier than I’d anticipated and way fun!  Like I never really wish I had kids around me (I usually just want a baby to cuddle and love and squeeze, but I’ve never found myself craving a toddler or young elementary school-er.  However I know people who have these and they say they are pretty great so I’ll say they must know something.  The point is, this activity made me want kiddos to roll dough with.  I’ve told Jonathan before that I wish I could rent babies like books from the library and just love and squeeze them for a bit but then give them back (and he always gives me a look of concern mixed with “umm well that is currently a crime” sort of blurb) but this activity found within me a desire to rent an 8 year old.  That sounds kind of horrible to type, sorry but you know what I mean!  I’d like to borrow my own 8 year old for a few hours today but not forever quite yet.  Ok? ok.

Make these soon and smother them with delicious condiments.

Continue reading “Pretzel Day”

Normal Soup

I told you we’d get to some food here–soup to be exact.  So, nothing celebratory or exciting but it is January and I don’t know about you, but the adjectives ‘celebratory’ or ‘exciting’ aren’t the immediate afterthoughts to the word ‘January’.  This soup is a good freezable, heart-defrosting, winter hug.  It’s even vegetarian, and could be gluten-free if you substituted the pasta for quinoa or some gluten-free pasta.  It’s the ultimate ‘normal-people’ soup.  No weird ingredients, no need to go to Whole Foods!  Actually on second thought, I really can’t call this all that normal because it’s borderline hippie.  Like soup made by hippie peasants of Pittsburgh?..(anything with kale can’t really grow that far from the the rainbow)  Regardless—It’s still one of those things you can freeze half of and magically have dinner on the table when you need food and don’t feel like risking you life using your car to sled to the nearest Giant Eagle or Trader Joe’s….

Chickpea Kale Soup

1 yellow onion, finely chopped

1/4 teaspoon dried red chili flakes

4 cloves of garlic, minced

3oz of tomato paste (I used 1/2 a 6oz can) I think that’s about 3 Tablespoons? eh. just use enough to make it red without infecting it with chunks of tomatoes.

1 Tablespoon dried oregano

2 teaspoons dried basil

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

3 Tablespoons of fresh chopped rosemary (I use this because I had a bunch of fresh rosemary to use, you could totally use dried (1 Tablespoon) but you can’t really skip this ingredient because it’s a big deal in here.

2 (15oz) cans drained/rinsed chickpeas

8 cups low-sodium chicken broth

1 bunch of curly kale, stems removed and coarsely chopped

1/2 cup small pasta (I used whole wheat orzo)

Saute the onion and red pepper flakes and about 1/4 teaspoon pepper and a pinch of salt on medium-high  in your dutch oven/soup pot, whatever you’ve got there that you make soup in. Do this for about 5 min, till the onions are golden then add the garlic and saute another minute or 2.  Then stir in the tomato paste and chickpeas.  Add 4 cups broth (I use those broth cartons, they are 1 quart each so just throw in 1 of those now) the oregano, basil, rosemary and smoked paprika.  Bring to a boil and simmer for 30min.  Then take it off the heat, and use an immersion blender to blend/smash up those chickpeas.  Or just put some of the soup (about half, we aren’t making hummus soup just smashing enough chickpeas to give this soup some texture).  Transfer the blended mixture to the soup again (if you used an outside-of-pot blender) add the rest of the broth (or just a second quart carton) the kale and bring to a boil.  Then simmer forever.  Really as long as you can, at least 1 hour.  The more you cook this thing the better it gets!  If you are in a big rush you don’t have to simmer it for an hour even but it will be quite tasty if you do.  At the end of whatever your simmer-time is add the tiny pasta and cook for another 10 min.

You’re done!

**Here is what I did because I had all day to do it but I don’t expect you to have all the live-long-day**:  I boiled the kale down for about 20 min then transferred the soup to my slow-cooker and cooked it in there for 4 hours on high.  At the 3.5 hour mark I added the tiny pasta to cook in.

Is anyone else looking forward to some spring/summer happenings?  I’m not usually a summer chickie but lately I’ve been really itching to a little get-away or to go to a concert or play music or SOMETHING out of the ordinary.  Any of yinz know of some fun musical things coming through in the next couple of months?  So far I am aware of the following that might be a blast:

Kurt Vile (@ Mr. Small’s on Feb. 22)

Dr. Dog (@ Stage AE on March 16)

The Avett Brothers (@ Stage AE on May 12)

Oh well, we’ve got time to figure this out.

We’re still eating normal soup because it’s January.

And can I just show you some visual updates from Christmas-through last night when I taped a bunch of pictures to our fridge in a hurricane of emotions, then garnished it with a plush heart??
One more pic of the tasty hippie peasant soup.


Nothing like a little Domico Family Christmas Hazing for the new guy!  I love him.  He was a wonderful toilet paper snowman ❤


Loving this picture of my mom holding her new cornbag of warmth and good feels!  I didn’t know how dark and cold my life (and feet) were before owning a cornbag.  Thank goodness for nurse buddies who know what you need! 🙂


The tree! the tree! And a screen of glow


Happiest Perfect Fluff of Love.


Coffee on the perch!!  Probably my favorite things about going to the homeland.  Early rainy coffee on the porch with my parental unit and sweet man 🙂


Alright sweetcakes.  Time to nap for the bebbies tonight.  Goodnight/Happy TGIF to those celebrating.  To those I’ll see tonight: Get ready.

There will be we-work-weekends-pity-brownies!

Weekday Funday

Last night Jonathan asked me what I was planning on doing today.  Despite trying to make my “schedule” sound different than every other weekday when I’m not waking up at 4:50am he still caught on that my only plan was to get out of bed before 10am and move enough to prevent a DVT.


Honestly, what I do on my off-days can get pretty varied.  A few examples include:

  1. Picking fights with mommy groups at the local coffee shop
  2. Contemplating homicide in the target makeup section towards a fellow customer whose condescending tone of voice I didn’t appreciate while asking me to move when I was already squashed against the side of the aisle.
  3. Having kahlua and ice cream for lunch
  4. Calling to schedule routine maintenance on my car and when the mechanic asks me what exactly I want done I say “Umm, like whatever you would do for a regular car check-up” As if I was scheduling an appt. with the pediatrician.  Basically I’m taking the Subaru to get it’s booster shots right?
  5. Trying new pintrest and youtube remedies for my disgusting ingrown toenails.  TMI maybe, BUT– look at this deepening of our friendship getting to know each other!  Now you know I have really painful ingrown toenails. Your turn to share.  Spill the beans!  For now I will just assume you have regular yeast infections.
  6. Cooking a TON of food.  I am so serious, like 2 main course things with a loaf of bread and probably brownies.
  7. Online shop because I’m still afraid to drive to the waterfront shops.  I actually buy stuff only about 10% of the time.  It’s all about filling the cart and then letting it go because you can’t justify buying more harem pants or peasant tops.


I am laying pengiun-belly down on my upstairs floor after attempting a yoga video by my online favorite yoga lady which really turned into a huge flop (literally and figuratively).  This was after mechanically schleping through one of those T25 workouts that felt…well just like that-mechanical and sort of useless.  Today is Sunday and for about a good 6 hours Jonathan has been carting my butt around town, watching my face pout and whimper during all the hymns at church then grouch about how I have no talents, no motivation, no desires or goals, no friends, skills….etc….whine whine whine…… all aboard the train of self-pity and insecurity.

Needless to say I’ve been a real pill lately.  I was on a medium-high for a few weeks and since Friday I’ve been treading water in the pool of anger, frustration that settled into re-visiting cranky insecurities, and some seasonal sadness.


Anyways, thank goodness for friend time (especially some QT with your fellow ENFPs!), patient husbands and sparkly work friends. I was talking with a friend the other day about some struggles with learning how to work with purpose.  It’s all very grey and I’ve been trying to focus on the reason I provide care to my patients, and how the goal of care I have is not for their appeasement.  It is to support them in their own goals for their health and the health of their child while providing education and resources.  It is to help them to reach wellness and be equipped to go forward into a very exciting and challenging chapter in their life.  This is a total can of worms to open so I’m not going to go all the way there.  But I will say that it is good to have a personal drive to do whatever you’re doing, even if it’s not about your actual job (maybe your drive is to support your family or something you love outside of your work).  During challenges it’s helpful to remember my own personal “drive”.  Which right now is to trust God’s ordinance for each day and “…To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (last half of Micah 6:8).  Also to trust in Him that He is at work in my heart, that He is ‘hemming me in’ (Psalm 139). Sometimes that means to be greatly humbled, to admit to being wrong and hurtful, to stand up for myself and others, to change my perception of something/someone, to practice gratitude, to remembering God’s own mercy towards me when I become frustrated and unloving towards others—and bringing it full circle we’re back to being humbled!   Ta da!

I saw a decorative quote on pinterest (of course) that I’ve thought of often at work when I have to re-center on why I am doing anything.


But that’s all the serious for now!   Whew, thank goodness this isn’t the past 2 novella posts right?? To be perfectly honest this was about to be a soup recipe post but then I started tumblr-ing.  You’ll totally get soup with the next one!

It’s been a while since we’ve done a Postpartum Nurse Comic Strip eh?

 Getting to work and finding a seat at the nurses station to look at the Baby Forecast and then going out to lasso a COW (Computer On Wheels).


Welcoming my new admission to postpartum:


When you haven’t even clocked in or received report yet and one of your rooms calls the desk and ends up being a 7:00am condition C.


When the glucometer reads a baby’s blood sugar at 44…


Delivering the 3rd pack of similac formula to a room when you discover they’ve been calling for it from different nurses all day.


Using the blue phone during a sort-of-emergent thing, and realizing that not only does the patient not speak English, neither does the phone interpreter.


You walk into discharge a patient and they want a breast pump before they go (and haven’t told anyone till now)


Patient is refusing to go to discharge class:


Looking for anything in the re-organized supply room:


All New Mommas: (Bless your hearts, birthin’ babies is stressful!  But yes, sometimes you just need to get all those hormones out of your eyeballs.)


The Difference Between Breastfed Babies and Bottlefed Babies:



When you present your severely swollen/pain-filled patient with a hand-crafted ice-glove and/or an oxycodone:


(the above GIF is almost too real if you’ve ever seen me at work.  The hair and the eyes match.  Probably the explanation method too.)

When you ask a more experienced nurse to come assess bleeding with you (or when a newer nurse asks you to come double-check a patient)


How I feel about my sweet coworkers:


When I’m a big whiner and everyone puts up with me:


Thinking about past coworkers


Cheers babycakes! This one’s for you!


***Also it is pretty clear that every single image here minus the one of Yours Truly, and a kahlua sundae are not owned or created by me.  They are found and credited on tumblr and pinterest***Thanks!

Bottom of Your Glass

Welcome to the Blueberry Days Bible Study!  We have tea and crumpets here in the living room or you could split this bottle of wine with me.  Just wanted to give you a fair heads-up that this post is bloated and long and probably redundant about my feels and God and love and guilt and fear and the salvation of mankind…you know, light stuff!  There is a lot of good meaty Bible talk here.  So if that is not your jam I get it but hope you do stay for some beverages with me 🙂

Last month Jonathan and I went up to Vermont to visit with his family and on the way back he dropped me off at my parents house in State College where I got to camp out and pretend it was 2014 again.   It was a great sip of home and conversations with long-time friends and wise friend-family.  To complete the experience I rode the Megabus from SC to Pittsburgh Wednesday night and re-lived the magic of gazing at each fellow passenger within eyesight and making up their deal in my head (this might be what some call judgmental but I prefer to call it “guessing with imagination”).  I’m pretty sure people could easily have guessed with not so much imagination towards me because not 15 min into the trip I had tears pouring down my face and became the bus fountain of emotion.

*Cue the sad/sappy iPod–>aka gasoline over the flame of my tears….as a courtesy to my fellow passengers I should’ve passed around a bag of marshmallows at this point so they could get some use out of the Emotional Bonfire Girl.

So Much Wine, Merry Christmas–Andrew Bird (at least listen to this one!  This is the title inspiration)

Million Dollar Bill–Middle Brother

I Will Sing You Songs–My Morning Jacket

Tear Down the House–The Avett Brothers

Ruby–Dave Rawlings Machine

Miss Ohio–Gillian Welch (I’m sorry but this song is definitely on almost every other music list post on this blog.)

Clean–Ryan Adams (eating this album up like poptarts in the closet, I don’t know if I really like it but I’m going on my 6th pack…so the jury’s out till I decide or just get sick, barf, and never listen to it again)

Fake Plastic Trees–Radiohead

No Surprises–Radiohead

REBECCA!  Why were you an emotional car wreck?!

Well sugar, if you’ve ever met me I’m either at the bottom of the ocean or at the top of the mountain with very little time on the mainland of stability.  Ever since hearing the term Hot Mess Express I can’t think of a better title for my autobiography.  I also recently came to terms with the fact that I am an ENFP–>not the INFP of yesteryear.  I am not cool, introverted and mysterious.  This is not actually what introverted means (as I have been reminded several times by my sweet introverted man) but it’s what I wanted to be and what pop culture paints the introvert as.  In contrast, the extrovert is painted as this logic-less party beast who imposes on the introvert.  So yeah, who wants to be that??  Buttons.  Anyways, that following Friday afternoon Jonathan came home from work to find me typing on this computer and sniffling next to an empty Jameson glass.  Good thing he missed me sobbing face down on my yoga mat just about an hour prior….whaaat is my problem…….?!?  So. Many. Feels.

Rebecca you are a Feeling Beast.

So the deal is that I went home (state college home) and for the first time in many months I was just hanging out on my lonesome, very deja vue to the 2012-2014 era when I was a wannabe hipster who worked at the coolest coffee shop ever, borderline decent fiddle-player, and frustrated nursing student/graduate.  Now I don’t live there anymore, I’m this frustrated baby wrangler nurse in Pittsburgh, fresh wifelette, and playing the violin makes me cry…. At least one thing is constant!  These past 16 months have been as close as you can get to God throwing your life in a washing machine and then giving you double-time in the dryer only to hang you up on the clothesline for some extra air and you don’t even know if you are O.K. anymore let alone if your perception of reality is actually real or not.

So. Much. Change.

–>What I mean, is that while I climbed the stairs to the roof of the Fraser Street parking garage late that Tuesday night, I could truly believe that I had just awoken from a dream where I moved to Pittsburgh, was a nurse, met a guy and married him all in under a year.  As I stood on the rooftop it felt almost exactly like every other time I’d stood there and gazed down into the Happiest Valley.  It felt so surreal to be standing in that place and tell myself that I wasn’t there anymore–that my life was somewhere else, and it wasn’t just my life anymore.

If I could just take a dramatic moment I’d say I felt very ghost-like.

Reference: I used to visit the top of the Fraser Street Parking garage and peer down into the buildings below and listen to the music drifting up from bars and street performers.  One of the first songs I heard from there was ‘Ruby’.

Tonight I am at home.  My home with my now-family.  There is pumpkin bread in the oven, dirty clothes tumbling in the washing machine, too much garbage from 2 people on the sidewalk waiting to be gone, wedding pictures, belated thank-yous strewn about the living room; more dried tears on my face.  It’s been a season of easy tears from what I’m assuming is the emotional settling after the year of constant major life-altering changes.  Much of the feeling turmoil has been brought on by feelings of loss and unexpected change—which I too often interpret as God not caring or being apathetic about my life.  Not that I don’t believe that God cares and loves for humanity as a whole and that he sent Himself to earth to restore relationship between Himself and His people, I just never really think that He puts much weight into my individual everyday life and simple struggles as an American woman who has a stable job, loving spouse and family,  roof over my head, food and numerous other blessings of which many others are praying for.  Why would my everyday unreasonable sadness matter to God?  And if He does care about it, wouldn’t He just be frustrated at my failure to appreciate that He hasn’t asked me to walk through different trials?  Does He wish He’d given the blessings to someone else who would use them better and give greater thanks without finding another reason to not trust Him and live in sadness??  I’ve had several people (including a therapist and my husband) tell me that I do not believe that God wants to give me good things and that is why I am easily anxious.  The observation surprised me at first but I knew that this was the thorn pushing living fear into my heart.  I live in the belief that God may let good things happen but actively creates the suffering in order to glorify Himself.  In writing this I imagine God might be very sad to see the child so distrusting that she cannot accept gifts He lays at her feet.

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?  or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?  If you then though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”  Matthew 7:9-11 NIV

Changes can be sometimes be your choice but also many are totally out of your control.  Sometimes change you decide on comes with unexpected events too.  When I experience change I often look for a reason to expect something difficult to happen because God surely wants to use whatever change is happening to refine me and make me lean on Him–so in my fearful heart I ask: why would He give me good things when it seems like the bad things are what He uses for our growth and to bring us to Himself?  When change is at my doorstep I cringe and anticipate being stripped bare to unknown shame and difficulty when God looks at me from afar and tells me to walk towards Him in my weak naked body, and if I fail to do so I am stuck where I am, with cold wind on bare skin. So when He brings about a happy event into my life I poke at it in disbelief and suspicion that it signals some awful thing is going to happen after I accept it–This is really sad and twisted and I truly tear up at the vision of a father trying to give his daughter a gift that she won’t even touch.

You see, the difficult thing about this is that God does indeed ask us to trust Him in trials and he does destroy that which comes between Himself and His beloved, you and I.  As in the creatures he made into His own image, creatures with souls capable of great evil and magnificent windows to the Holy.  So when I say I fear God’s refinement it is true that He does take away, he does bring us to “nakedness”.

…”Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart.  The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised” excerpt of Job 1:21 NIV

God does allow us to walk through times of great suffering and blindness in the midst of life changes even when we beg Him to take it away, or give us clarity.  He does ask us to trust Him and ask Him for wisdom in those trials, not only to endure and trust but to have joy in such times and to praise His name!

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything…when tempted, no one should say, “God is tempting me.”  For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone; but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed.  Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.  Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers.  Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of first-fruits of all he created.  James 1:2-4, 13-18 NIV (bold and italic text added)

Tonight I read another chapter in the book I’ve been spottily reading for about 2 years, Ann Voskamp’s ‘One Thousand Gifts’.  Most of the book chronicles her learning joy through gratitude and how to learn joy when you can’t see anything beyond bitterness, fear and depression.  It’s something I should actually just read on repeat.

Sometimes I don’t want joy.  In my blindness I cling to depression and doubt as substitutes because I think that they hold less disappointment; less opportunity to feel embarrassment and shame. I can recall times when I’d thought I’d placed my hope in God but was left in disappointment.  However, this was because the hope wasn’t in Christ alone, it was in the things I wanted him to do for me rather than who He is.  I have used times when I’ve been given something I strongly desired and had it taken away as proof of God’s apathy or conditional approval towards me.  When I was allowed to get so close to whatever thing I wanted and suddenly it was torn away, I recoiled from God and glared at Him from my cave.  So, if I live expecting God’s way of refining me is to immerse me into suffering through tearing hopes/desires out of my hands while pouring shame and abandonment over my nakedness, then I could only “safely” live in fear of what is to befall me next.  To constantly be waiting for God to frown on my heart, to await the humiliation of exposure and subsequent withdraw of blessings.  But as the verse above mentions, it is not God who changes.  He is constant and His love for us is unchanging based on our doing, and it is not He who brings temptation to rely on fear as protection from the unknown.

In her book, Voskamp covers this way of thinking and brings to light that it is subconsciously deciding that the powers of Hell are greater and offer more life than those of Heaven.  The choice to shut out joy becomes a habit to protect myself from dashed hope.  Hope can only be as strong as that which it rests on, and if that is on a person, event, government, one’s own ability and self esteem… then it can’t be strong enough to withstand the weight of God’s glory being bled through your life.  If you are familiar with the story of God revealing himself to Moses you may recall the nature of that taste of glory being so powerful that God had to shield Moses from His passing by (Exodus 33:12-23).  Moses stood in a tight dark place, yet was as physically close to God as could be withstood by a human.  Voskamp speculates that it may be in those dark places when we are given the opportunity to experience God’s closeness and protection unlike any other time.  That perhaps the darkness is his hand covering us, protecting us from what we cannot yet understand.

I’ve always had a hard time understanding God calling us to joy in trial–it’s so hard!  I can’t wrap my brain around how to feel joyful in the midst of depression and fear.  It can feel impossible, or like one more thing on the spiritual ‘to-do’ list.  “Trust God, endure struggle, pray for wisdom…oh yeah and have joy in all of this!”  I want to throw up my hands and say this is HARD!  Does God ask the impossible? Does He intend our entire earthly existence to be a constant trial and refinement through struggle but for us to be happy all time time that He is doing it? In the midst of fear and trying to trust the Lord, what is does it mean to have joy? My first strike is that I said the word ‘happy’.  Let’s get this oldie-but-goodie on the table and remember that happiness is not joy.  Joy is not a fleeting feeling (!) as I am learning.  It is the marriage of Peace and Hope.  This is why it is not only possible to have joy in struggle, but necessary.  Hope in the solid ground of God’s sovereignty over all things, that He does have the power to change all things and that what He does choose to do or not do is good because He is good and all good things come from Him.  This is hard to accept because “good” must then mean it is ‘God-glorifying’.  “Good” doesn’t necessarily mean it works out to make us more comfortable.

“Safe?” Said Mr. Beaver.  “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe.  But he’s good.  He’s the King, I tell you.” (‘The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe’ by C.S. Lewis)

God is glorified in how we trust him in all circumstances to bring us to himself, to make us holy as he is holy….sanctification.  (There is much more to this subject that I am not entirely educated enough to explain, but one tidbit I want to remind us of is that our salvation and sanctification is not something dependent on how much we do/the strength of our trust to make ourselves holy and Christ-like–that is impossible in our human sin-weakened bodies.  Christ is the bridge to our being made holy because we have gained his holiness through the cross where he took our sin and deserved abandonment from God.  Therefore we cannot sanctify ourselves, God made the way for us to be with him again and in response to this great act of mercy and grace (receiving an undeserved gift) we are called to love God and trust Him…lean not on our own understanding in all things…(Proverbs 3:5-6).

Peace is our soul recognizing the presence of God in all times.  Peace is the rest and wonder laid on our souls through glimpses of the Holy everyday.  Peace feeds our hope through assurance of God’s caring and providing for us throughout all things, which enables us to hope in Christ without fear of what God will do.  The ways of God do not make sense to the minds of man, the idea that a holy God would reach into the grime of the world to rescue his adulterous love and die to make her clean and bring her to Himself is foreign to our hard hearts.  God actually gives us a “Day In My Life” story in the book of Hosea where he tells Hosea to go and marry a prostitute and not only that but to go and buy her back when she gets into even more trouble.  Constant pursuit!  That is God’s way with us.  It is strange and amazing.

He is good and cares for us even in small things as well as big ( Matthew 6:25-34). So to have joy we must have glimpses of God’s presence in our day-to-day.  How does this happen?  When we practice looking for Him, we will find Him when we focus on who we are looking for.  In other words, thanks rather than despair.

…..Whatever my God Ordains Is Right…. (‘Sweet Comfort’ by Sandra McCracken)

In Chapter 7 of One Thousand Gifts, Voskamp describes that the presence of God is sensed through your focus on what is there rather than what isn’t there, to open our eyes to the graces and gifts He gives in the moment rather than frustration and resentment about our circumstances.  And that is the daily practice of choosing life over death–or I love how she puts it, the “joy-wrestle”.

“Hard.  Yes.  So hard.”…I am trying , really trying: Practice.  The discipline of thanks only comes with practice.”…I want to give up too.  But give up the joy-wrestle…and I die.  “The practice of giving thanks…eucharisteo…this is the way we practice the presence of God, stay present to His presence, and it is always a practice of the eyes.  We don’t have to change what we see.  Only the way we see.” (p. 135)

One of the other pieces of work she references in her book is this quote from Robert A. Emmons and Michael E. McCullough’s piece ‘The Psychology of Gratitude’):

“People generally do not make efforts to actively infuse their daily experiences with greater emotional quality,” posits scientific researcher and professor Rollin McCraty.  “Although most people definitively claim that they love, care, appreciate it might shock many to realize the large degree to which these feelings are merely assumed or acknowledged cognitively in their feeling world.  In the absence of conscious efforts to engage, build, and sustain positive perceptions and emotions, we all to automatically fall prey to feelings such as irritation, anxiety, worry, frustration, self-doubt and blame” (Rollin McCraty, “The Grateful Heart,” The Psychology of Gratitude, ed. Robert A. Emmons (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 241.)

If we understand that peace is only found in our personal communion with God and our hope is in His goodness then our joy is not a feeling.  Our joy is the daily intentional seeking God in that moment (not to get too ahead of our seasons but we are coming up on the Thanksgiving season appropriately followed by Christmas….aka the time we remember and give thanks for Immanuel… “God with us”!! Matthew 1:23) through thanks for his care for us in ways we don’t see at first glance.  Joy is to go to God and ask for blessing, the blessing our soul craves.  The presence of God with us, which only He can give.  To go to God and knowing that only He can bless us and fill us.  We will, like Jacob, ask God to bless us–in the way He delights to do, with His presence in our hearts.  It is this joy that cannot be taken by the world because it is not of the world.

Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me’?  I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices.  You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.  A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time as come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.  So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.  In that day you will no longer ask me anything.  I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever yo ask in my name.  Until now you have not asked for anything in my name.  Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete….I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:19-24, 33

So it is true that God does indeed bring us good things, and He wants to!  This is still shocking to me and I am learning to accept that each day without fear.  Here’s a story: In my mopey pre-saturday-nightshift sulking last weekend I laid in bed unable to sleep and jokingly asked Jonathan to pray I got called off work (honestly thinking there is no way in any world that I would get called off on a weekend).  I laid there and thought about writing this post and how I was trying to see the blessing of the moment rather than the frustration of what I don’t have, which led to more sulking then feeling shameful and guilty but then I started thinking about exactly what I just wrote and how God was going to take care of me that night no matter what I was going to walk into.  And that my going into work that coming night meant that God ordained me to be there then and care for the patients I would meet and to spend time with my wonderful co-workers.  This train of thought actually did bring me to a more peaceful place and though I didn’t sleep, I did know that God was at work and therefore I could have joy in this despite my childish whining.

Wouldn’t you know I got a golden call-off phone call at 5pm.  I actually did feel a little amazed and tremble-y.  It felt like God was saying “I told you I could do anything and I do care about you in every way no matter how you are behaving or what you feel. I love you and delight in giving you good things, right now I’m giving you a night of rest to enjoy with Jonathan.”  It was humbling actually, just like the small child feeling ashamed for sulking and then being given an undeserved treat.  Anyways, the point here is that if you pray and ask God to get you called-off for the night He might do it!  (that is absolutely not the point…there is nothing you do that gets you called off work.  It is purely a gift from God that you can enjoy and not feel guilty about!  Jonathan had to tell me this when my guilt sunk in around 10pm that I wasn’t using my night off properly.  I’m crazy.  Please help.)—that God does delight to give us blessings and he does this even when we feel that our life is upside-down and/or dark.

“Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.  The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.  I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me.  I have set the Lord always before me.  Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.  Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure, because you will not abandon me to the grave, nor will you let your Holy One see decay.  You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at you right hand.” Psalms 16:5-11 (italics added)

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The Blues Are Still Blue

The other day one of my co-workers came back from a vacation and while being caught up on all the hospital happenings at the nurses station turned to me and exclaimed “didn’t you run off and get married?!”

Holy cow she’s right.

So on this blog hiatus I moved (again–that’s 4 times in one year now) and got hitched.  It’s a pretty big deal.  It’s one of those things that there would be so much to spill that the thought of going all the way back to last time we caught up overwhelms my finger brains and I’m about to shut this computer.  So lets start with today.  Today I do not work–needless to say the day has barely begun and it’s already a success.  I woke up to Jonathan’s goodbye kiss before he left for work and with best intentions to wake up then I relapsed into slumber till noon.  Rolled out of bed and did my favorite–wrangled the french press into coffee making and sat in the kitchen under the sun leak.  This morning I woke up to my body crumpled and tired in quite a few ways–physically because I did some wack attack thing and scheduled myself to work 3 nights in a row with a 36hr turn around to 2 days in a row. WHEW.


So here we are, just kicking it around my kitchen.  Listening to Kanye over coffee…damn, here we go again…

Lets just start with the playlist (this is my back-n-forth playlist to take me to and from work nowadays):

Everything I Am–Kanye West

The Distance–Cake

California Chainshaw–The Steeldrivers

Donald Trump–Mac Miller

To Be Young (Is to Be Sad)–Ryan Adams

Don’t Fuck With My Money–Penguin Prison **I can’t help but dig this groover.*

Ten Cent Pistol–The Black Keys “the laws of man do not apply when blood gets in a woman’s eye” Take. Me. To. Work.

I so want to be the blogger that can tell you every magical detail of her wedding day but to be totally honest sweetness, I cannot remember 85% of it.  It’s slowly coming to me like a dream—not to be sappy and all but it’s true that it went be SO fast!  I remember waking up, sitting on the porch of my parents house and drinking coffee while watching it rain.  Then I remember talking about vaginas with the lady doing my makeup and sweet friend/photographer/bride-babysitter/OB-nurse-buddy.  I remember waiting and praying alone in the bedroom the bridesmaids were stored in waiting to be fetched for the ceremony.   Then I remember a big blur.  I’ll fill ya in as it comes to me.  Definitely the best day of my life.

11053065_2992204972267_1081197462783906288_nLet’s scoot over to something that I’ve been trying to spit on paper for a while.  I have been super blog absent this year for a ton of reasons but over the past few months I have been silent because every time I started to write it would taste sour.  All I could think about was my job.  It overshadowed every other piece of my life—including planning a wedding and preparing for marriage.  I’ve cried a lot about that actually because it felt like I didn’t really experience an exciting period of expectation and joyful planning with family/friends.  Most of the engagement was spent surviving—mentally, physically, spiritually.  The week of my wedding snuck up on me and happened in a beautiful flash but I felt like I just tumbled into the scene, hoping things were going to happen because I sure as heck didn’t know what was going on or if anything would be ready etc… Luckily I have amazing family, friends, and people I didn’t even know really at all but suddenly became my floral fairy godmother (thank you my mom’s wonderful work buddy who came to our house 2 nights before the wedding and led us in unpacking flowers fresh from South American Sam’s Club and creating gorgeous bouquets.  You are fan-flipping-tastic).  But aside from the week of the wedding the majority of my memory is anxiety, anger and frustration in my professional life.  Much of that I’m told is due to being the first year of nursing, but I doubt it’s the full reason.  Since starting my first nursing job in postpartum I have seen several changes in myself—many I do not like.  I’d like to tell you about them because I’m just coming to terms with them myself and to terms with the fact that my actual job isn’t entirely the culprit of my own personal response.

I began chipping away during the winter, progressively bobbing up and down in emotional state regarding work till taking a nosedive in spring which spiraled into regular sobbing and depressive episodes where all I could feel was inadequacy, embarrassment, anger, and suffocation.  So here’s what I saw/see: Nursing is notoriously a ‘saintly’ profession.  When people ask what I do I say that I’m a nurse.  They usually respond with a well-meant compliment to the profession and how nice it must be to work 3 days a week, ask if I rotate shifts (yes I do, days and nights happen in the same week) and then the inquiry of what kind of nursing I do.  This is where I look down and say I’m a postpartum nurse.

I don’t do CPR every other day (haven’t actually done that at all yet) I haven’t successfully placed an IV (we usually take them out rather than place them on this unit, and when someone needs an IV we try but are often swamped and need to call our amazing IV team for help) most of my patients are “walkie-talkies” (they are awake, alert and oriented to what is going on—not to be taken for granted in the medical world for sure).  I don’t really work with what you’d imagine the hospital population being (ill).  We do have sick moms and babies but generally it’s an exacerbation of health issues that existed prior to pregnancy. So, depending on who I am saying this too I either get something about how nice it is to not have to do anything but hold babies all day and/or “lucky you! Happiest place in the hospital!”

I’ve been meaning to chat about my professional life with yinz now for a while but every time I would start a post I would become angry and spiteful in my words–so with caution I’m gonna try this because I miss you so much and want to talk again!  So I am a nurse, I take care of new mommas and babies.  No I don’t deliver babies.  No I’m not a NICU nurse.  I help you walk around after surgery, I tell you to not be scared of the blood on the floor and I flush the toilet with all that blood in it before you turn around.  I wrangle your IV pump around the room, re-arrange your room, take your trays out because we don’t have a useful sign indicating that trays only get fetched if they are outside of the room.  I talk to you either through google translator or a magic blue phone because I was a horrible spanish student and wish I’d just studied useless french in middle school and had 4th period crepe parties like I wanted.  I nestle you in pillows and tell you when we are out of them.  I manhandle that chair and a few blankets into a “bed” for your man (and politely sympathize to his disappointment that the hospital doesn’t provide him a “real bed”)  I also check on you in the middle of the night to see you curled in the chair “bed” while he is sprawled on the hospital bed.  I get self-righteous calls from both of you in the middle of transferring another patient to the NICU complaining about your 3 minute late PRN motrin for 1/10 pain (I do not have time to explain nursing prioritizing over a phone call so I just take your glare when I scurry up to your room after getting lost in the hospital maze).  I find you wandering the hallway with your newborn in arms because you’re afraid to be in your room when “he gets like that”, to which I nest you in the lounge then go cool my jets enough to walk into your dark room, flip the lights on and politely inquire what his issue is while reminding him that it is your room.


I love handing your your freshly bathed and swaddled newborn.  Speaking of, I strongly believe in the power of an iron swaddle to quell any unruly nugget into stunned silence (I actually feel like I’m performing a magic trick when I quickly silence Tiny Tim in front of his exhausted parents by making him a little human burrito).  I try and organize nap time for you but I cannot control every human who walks into your room–especially your relatives.  I am not afraid to be the “bad guy” and ask them to leave if you are about to fall apart in exhaustion.  Walking into dad changing a diaper, even with nervous hands, makes my heart jump with a high-five, you go Glen Coco!  Hearing your baby swallow with perfect little “fish lips” on your boob makes me want to twirl with delight.  I cannot be there for every single feeding because a lot of moms want me to cheer for their babies too.  I like helping you bottle feed your baby–it’s fun and also totally good—haters gonna hate #breastaintalwaysbest. I want you to know that good parenting is more about the example you set for them in your own decisions, personal integrity, and loving discipline you guide and care for them with over the next 18+ years rather than what kind of nipple you use to feed them this year.  I do believe you when you say what your pain is and am happy to make you feel better but oxycodone can’t take it all away.  I make sure you know to treat your baby like you’d treat your drunk friend when they puke–turn them on their side and make sure they don’t turn blue.  Sometimes I entertain the idea of using the breast pump myself to see if I’m milk-able or at least if I could create some real A-cup cleavage… even though I know that is fruity.  I often wonder if you get ingrown hairs down there when you shave or if you can wax with a yankee candle.   My eyes get hot and sad when I find you crying in exhaustion in the middle of the night because you feel guilty and nervous to let your baby leave the room, your chart saying G2P1 is a dry way to say you were here last year and left without a baby.  I get really excited (and tired) when we start the day with you too dizzy to walk, throwing up, with a bleeding incision and end the day with you smiling, eating, walking, and peeing.  Sometimes I get so mad that I do see white.  Sometimes I have to pray for my mental “daily bread” in the supply room before facing another 12 hours of constant human angst.  I feel guilty horrible when I know I have failed to do something I ought to have remembered for you or your baby and my husband listens to me say I want to shut my hands in the oven before picking me up like a baby and reminding me that I am also human.  I look at babies sleeping in the nursery and think about how the withdrawal baby going home to a drug house will never remember sleeping next to their nursery neighbor going home to a celebrity household.  When I look at a full nursery one of my first thoughts is “just a bunch of (cute) sinners crying for the things they will cry for the rest of their life in different ways”–love, affection, safety, nourishment, pain relief.  It’s the same thing their mothers are crying for from their life–from the father, from their family, from them.  And it’s the same thing the nurses are crying for from our own situations..  Babies are raw humans!

So that’s a mind-barfing way to say what kind of nursing I do.  And that I’m dealing with strange self-administered guilt about how I’m not a “real nurse” on med surg, ICU, ER, TCU, NICU. LDR, ABCDEFG…but that’s my failure to remember what nursing is.  I do get a little sad when I get a patient from labor&delivery who hugs their LDR nurse in thanks for all the amazing things they did (because they do! Cripes they do.) but know in my mind trenches that they won’t hug their postpartum nurse because they will spend more time with us and they will experience waves of frustration, stressors, and pain in many ways that we cannot fix or that take a lot of time and people coordinating to fix.  We have to help them rehabilitate to life now and that can be tedious, silly, confusing, tiring, and hard.  We do not give epidurals for life.  That is my failure to remember that nursing isn’t about thanks–that is a pride issue—nursing is about caring for people where they are to the best of your ability where you are.  And that patient satisfaction shouldn’t mean customer satisfaction, just because a patient is happy doesn’t mean that the right needs were met in the right order.  I can’t say I love my career or that I was just “meant to be a nurse”.  In some ways I wish I had chosen to alter my career path, in fact a I have thought about that a lot lately.  The glorified image of nursing isn’t the career, it’s an image of a saint person.  Being a nurse don’t make you no saint O.K.? If anything it makes me realize that I’m a real creature of fear and selfishness.  But learning to understand that humbly and not self-destructively is good, and right now I think God is working on my eyesight.  I may not be totally sure of my professional situation but it is exactly where I am right now and I have more to learn from it.


I do think that God makes all things new and allows things to pass that he will ultimately use to glorify himself and that includes our work lives as well as home lives.  I do think that the work I do now is important and very much so a molding experience for me and I have learned a lot from it already and have a long ways to go.  I also think that it is important for us to  remember that we are not our work and that regardless of where I work or what I do I should be going about it with integrity and the will to do something well and to leave people better for it.

How are ya doing buttercup?  Gosh I missed you.  I had a lot more written after this but I deleted it all because we will talk again about this and that and other things and I will tell you more about the wedding, how I still feel like a doughnut married or not, how I miss playing violin something terrible, how I miss cornfields and trees but love the Pittsburgh skyline and my happy kitchen filled with two people cooking up a beautiful messy relationship.  Lets have a treat sometime eh? By that I mean a well-rounded meal of cookies, wine and laughs.  Till next time sunshine!


The Blues Are Still Blue–Belle And Sebastian

The Best Story

So Hey. Hai.  Bon-Joyr (said with obnoxious twang).

Happy Valentines Day you doughnut!  Quit yer fussin’ about it and eat these:

IMG_20150214_102404Pink Dreamz.

Here are a few things for you to just know, you are my valentine and cannot do anything about it–I LOVE that.  Sarcastic hater to V-Day fanatic I want to wrap you in a cloud of ground up candy hearts.

This human also cannot escape being my Valentine…

because you know I’m all ’bout that bass

*Dear Jonathan: if you are reading this and your eyebrows raise a little bit I have only had cookies and coffee for breakfast today.  That might clear things up.*

And to the rest of ya’ll: I know this is getting annoying but please let me do it…please please please okthanks.

OMG. BECKY.  Look. at. that. RING.


Right now my crusty self is sitting in my room drinking coffee bean blood, trying to recollect what happened the past several weeks with days and nights (I can’t tell the difference anyways).  Guess some things never change…?(!) KIDDING.  Actually, if you know me you know that it’s an event if I DO remember what I did 12-24 hours ago.  What I’m experiencing now is essentially a work-hangover. With a lot of baby.

So barf. (yeah, a lot of it. All night.)

Before we get cozy you know I like me some life-visuals.

Most of my more-experienced co-workers lives with me in it:

tumblr_inline_n3bgmeUVVU1ql3o4g tumblr_inline_n3bgmywLPF1ql3o4gWhen I’m your nurse:


Explaining anything ever.


It is still so dang odd to be on the other side of student-hood.  When I try talking with pods of nursing students on the floor it usually ends up in a confirmation that I’m old and weird just trying to kick it with the young folks.  But sometimes they laugh and if I remember correctly, laughing is better than crying in nursing school!  In fact the other day some nurslings asked me what my ‘story’ was/nursing advice and I basically became a sage of wisdom.

Not.  This is more accurate:



Don’t worry, I still told them there were fairies and rainbows!  Dressed like babies.

Being alone in my apartment, hearing anything:


Coming home after work:tumblr_n30p3oJ1SX1tpg4boo1_250


‘Ohio-filous remix’–Damien Jurado

On that note, I’m going to finish encapsulating myself in this blanket here, and talk at you! Because I’ve got some stuff to say (surprise of the century…) How about you pull up a chair and endure join me so that I don’t feel like a total Weis markets doughnut? And because you didn’t ask and you certainly don’t want to know—a large doughnut is roughly the size of a fully dilated cervix. I love sprinkle- crusted doughnuts and I’m pretty proud of the fact that I have a cervix. I regret using the word “crusted” in the same sentence as “cervix” now. Holy Cow. DOMICO. You had to stare at the line while you jumped over it didn’t ya? Ew. stop now.

But really, doughnuts are a favorite, and when you get here we’re going to make some.

Welp, so how are you? Probably not trying to convince yourself that you don’t really spend your not-working time watching HBO. Classy piece of work you are. Also, I bet you can talk real good grammar.

And for all that “stuff I have to say”?


In 5ish months.

“REBECCA.  What in all that is sane are you doing.(?!)”

That is a very feasible sentence coming out of your tooth cave right now.  Here is why, the last time we really had a good sit-down here this was not on the horizon at all and much of this decision process occurred over blog hiatus–much due to being strapped into the minivan of the adult workforce like a defeated 8 year old being driven to violin group lessons on a Friday night instead of a sleepover.  That is the closest metaphorical feeling that describes how I feel about going to work.  However, I like the other kids at my grown-up ‘group lessons’ and we can not be at sleepovers together.

Sometimes, to pep myself up before night shifts I pretend I’m just going to a sleepover. With babies. And no sleep. And then I listen to Gold Digger.

AND it’s one of those days where I’m gonna throw my 2 cents at you. One of my favorite bloggers, Elizabeth of Delightfully Tacky provided a prompt (a while ago) for this post with a very popular topic:

“write your own post on your own blog, sharing your experience with how the media has affected your body image, how you’re fighting to change the harmful messages, or how you’re changing the future for your children?…How can we fight the harmful messages that are literally killing girls and women? Are you still fighting for your own life? To love your own body? To believe you are beautiful just the way you are? You aren’t alone.”–Elizabeth, ‘Delightfully Tacky’

After reading this prompt my snob-town inner troll was all “oh. my. gosh. look at this super original problem of media and self-image! Never heard of this before.” –Rebecca A. Domico, Professional Sarcastic Jerk

Well what is that all about Domico? Park it right here, before you step on my toes and tell me how you’re going to save your daughter’s self-esteem by withholding all Disney princess movies and Cosmo, let me state my case. To get a baseline, what are the harmful messages? Who exactly is sending them?

A harmful message is harmful because it contains a threat to something basic we want and/or crave in order to live as well as we hope. It must threaten a deep-seated desire for a good thing, such as love, safety, acceptance, intimacy, significance. Who’s sending them? We are.

The world, and members of it, work on a conditional system, like a payment system, there is always expectation after action. Payment comes in different forms, there can be a down payment (actions done with expectation of a beneficial future outcome) or just some ‘repayment’ in response to a past deed.

Perhaps this is deviating from the actual question but I’m not so sure media is the problem. Plus, media doesn’t just mean the magazine/TV ads. Media itself is in a unique position nowadays, because virtually all people can use it to send their message (instagram…facebook…insta-face? etc. you know what I’m talking here). We “sell” personal messages through media too. That perfectly posed selfie?? “Oh hi, I woke up this way…I’m so deep and introspective because I won’t look the camera in the lens…totally natural photo here I had no idea my hand was taking of myself just smiling off into the space of a thousand “likes” that I really don’t need but I really do because I wouldn’t be posting this super pretty picture of myself if I didn’t want a shot of verbal affirmation.” ***hey now hey, guys. I basically just recounted an actual brain conversation from my own head, not trying to poke you! My phone is a graveyard of my ‘good hair days’. Help to all who discover.

People implementing media to influence us know what motivates us—think about what this is: to be enjoyed, to know we are significant, loved/cherished, approved. Note, that people communicate and receive these things in different modes or “languages”. I’m going to save my spiel on ‘love languages’ for another day when I can afford you a stronger beverage. Back to the topic, here’s my 2 cents–>The media is simply a venue to play on these designer desires (say that 5x fast). The media is simply the vehicle being used to enforce the idea that we can have these desires fulfilled if we can procure a particular “payment” for them. The ideas that are portrayed via the media are very often using these desires as leverage for what they are selling (this isn’t necessarily them actually selling you something, you are always being marketed to, being sold an actual item, a school of thought, a belief etc..). They portray a person having something you want and you instinctively led to develop a theory as to why they have “it” and you seemingly do not have “it” (or have as much of “it” as you want, or in the form you want). Why do we watch films/shows, listen to music? Because we identify with it, the character, the emotions, the content of portrayed experience. If we want what that character has, we naturally do come up with rationales as to why they have it and we do not. Which in turn leads to our developing a plan of action ending in our acquisition of that desired blessing.

As far as how this relates to body image, well, I guess our body is one of the dysfunctional methods of “payment” we’re selling in exchange for significance/to be loved—or as I like to think of it, to know one is enjoyed and valued to the fullest extent. I’m not saying bodies aren’t enjoyable or meant to be enjoyed in the original context, but that bodies are yet another amazing creation we have misplaced, mistreated, disrespected and abused in frantic grasping for the fullness our souls truly crave.


The “fullness”?  It IS Valentines Day guys so you know we’re taking a dip in this pool too.  The fullness is to know one is loved and to know how to love well.  This includes a cross-over of someone’s priority from themselves to another person. This is difficult. This isn’t natural for us. Some might even argue it’s biologically counter-intuitive. If you’ve been a victim of this blog or my frank verbal opinion on this topic in the past here’s a review: Every human being serves something. Generally, themselves. Regardless of good intentions or deliberately malicious ones. I serve myself. You serve yourself. I will make the world work for me. To attain the feelings I want.  The practice of love requires you to see yourself “caught in action”.  Caught in the act of who you’re really serving (which is more often ourselves).  I don’t know about you, but “loving well” has been on the brain lately.  And for someone who grew up in a family who demonstrated love in so many ways I am bewildered at how shallow my practice has been thus far.

“..if you will love, I will love.  I will redeem you, if you will redeem me?  Is this our purpose, you and I together to pacify each other, to lead each other toward the lie that we are good, that we are noble, that we need not redemption, save the one that you and I invented of our own clay?”–Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller p. 148

This is a slice of several paragraphs of gold within this book (the whole thing is a major favorite) where the author shares a plat that he wrote in college, this part between the main character and his wife during a conflict.  Isn’t this so much the attitude of our loves today?  If you will __ then I will too.  But if you don’t ___ why should I?  That is our trade mentality, our buy-sell culture.  That is not love.  It is painful to realize how we fail to love those around us because of their ways and failings yet do not see how we ourselves are equally unlovable.  Unlovable, selfish, creatures with our eyes closed to truth.  The truth that we make excuses for not loving each other well which are nothing compared to what God could implement as fully just reason to shut us from his presence  forever.  Yet the only pure loveable being of the universe is the one we have such great difficulty loving, and who is the only one to love us in the purest form that no human does for another.  The best love on earth is a gift from God to his people, he designed us to be in relationship and love in many of the ways he relates and loves us.  Parent-Child, Friend, Friend, Family, Husband to wife.  All unique loves that can be lived either with our invention of the buy-sell “love” which is entirely dependent on self-action and is driven by self-satisfaction–or styled after original love.  Sacrificial dying to oneself to uphold the other love.  This is so so hard, and it’s this kind of love I am growing to realize I know so little of how to do well.

A classic Bible passage probably comes to mind when you think of love (“love is patient, love is kind etc….) certainly good and all but may I share a personally favored passage regarding love?  Please read the whole thing.  It’s Isaiah 43.  I won’t type to whole thing here but please read it and hear what God is saying there.  Vs. 23-28 clearly lays out the unworthiness of Israel (that’s us) of God’s favor, mercy, certainly not his love. However, earlier in the passage God clearly states who Israel is and how he will act towards her regardless of how she behaves towards him.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine…you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you,  I will give men in exchange for you, and people in exchange for your life…Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.  See, I am doing a new thing!…I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland, to give drink to my people, my chosen, the people I formed for myself and they may proclaim my praise.”  Isaiah 43:1,4,18-20

The perfection of relationship and love that we so want and try to glean from each other does not work outside of divine intervention. It is not our natural inclination to love well beyond ourselves and we are left in a loveless desert because all we do is soak up drops of water around us in fear that it might run out someday and we must store up enough for ourselves.  True love is not fear of being unloved and therefore chasing and gathering up affection to pacify that fear.  If we are to love well and know true love, the closest we are able to become on earth is to allow God to mold us into creatures that can love well based on his original love design to sacrifice one’s own ego, control, fears and wants in favor of holding up another in effort to help them along their own journey with God.  Because love isn’t ultimately about human-to-human relations (thankfully, because they are broken and only mended through forgiveness and grace–also from God) it is about the pure unbroken tie between God and mankind, it is God making “a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland”.  And it’s His story.

982eed8174774da75b8e682b87acd089“From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”–Psalm 61:2

Isn’t it marvelous that not only can we not solely rely on each other to nurture relationships, but we can and must rely on God to show us how to build fruitful and rich relationships that really do became pools of grace in this world?

“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:12

2015-02-14 14.13.27

Working Titles–Damien Jurado

Museum of Flight

If I recall correctly, the last time we met up here the sun was shining over a sleepy late summer day.  We’ve had hiatuses before but I don’t think there has been a more eventful hiatus than this one.

The Raven’s Sun–Catherine MacLellan

There is no way to really give you the full painting of the past several months but let me share a few snapshots with you, I did end up getting a full-time nursing job at Magee-Women’s Hospital on their postpartum unit (I get to re-orient the mommas and nuggets after delivery.  Basically, I’m an apprentice breastfeeding wizard).  This happened after I signed myself onto a lease for an apartment…this is something I would never advice anyone doing and I am thanking my lucky stars I was saved from my own upside-down decision process there (you really shouldn’t sign any legal document binding you to pay $$ for a year to live in a place where you have no certainty of employment yet.  FYI)  But I did.  Something I didn’t really realize the riskiness of till after I had the job and then it hit me with a thousand ice cubes of post-realization thankfulness at being saved from some potential disaster.  WELL THEN, lesson learned and somehow I rolled out on the other side ok!  Thank the sweet goodness.  Since then I’ve nested into this apartment and grown some real OB nurse-backbone.  Really only in the past couple of weeks have I started feeling a little more capable in my nurse shoes which is a good feeling.  Not that I ever really think I know what to do but I do think I’m starting to be able to walk into work without total dread of what may happen.   Sometimes I walk in, get my assignment and just shrug my shoulders in an “it ain’t what it is but it do” attitude (and on some days I just stare at my paper and a train wreck flashes before my eyeballs because I already know how that next 12 hours is going to go, and it does go that way but it still comes to an end after those 12 hours.  Those days are just a 12 hour trip on the Hot Mess Express, usually with a side stop for a cup of tears in the supply closet).

The General Flow Now:


Me *trying to* make friends at the nurses station:

Charting the same stuff for the millionth time that shift:

The baby security band alarm goes off and now someone has to locate a nugget:

Changing the diaper of your freshly circumcised patient to find a minor penile hemorrhage:


(Finally!) seeing your super rude patient and their wack-attack mother walk off the floor after pulling teeth to get them discharged and as soon as they are out of the system they want a narcotic for the road:


Here’s something weirdfun, my pre-work musical cravings: Kanye, Mac Miller, and Cake.

Gold Digger/Gorgeous/Everything I Am–Kanye


Paper Planes–M.I.A.

Electric Feel–MGMT

No Sleep–Wiz Khalifa

The Distance–Cake

Devil’s Got My Woman–Andrew Combs

My realization last week:

tumblr_inline_nhu956SW8C1ql3o4g tumblr_inline_nhu95rWEF41ql3o4g


After a good shift with adorable mommas and nuggets:


After a train wreck shift knowing I have to return in less than 12 hours:


After every single shift:



SO there’s the nursey update 😉  Nurse Lyfe continues to entertain and grow me!


There’s something else.



Museum of Flight–Damien Jurado



Bet ya didn’t see that one coming! Neither did I.  

More on this later 😉

–Love, Rebecca

The Vortex Effect

Well hey! Jumping right in here, hold your breath!



A few days ago I stumbed on this article.  Which became the inspiration for my baby song list.  The baby song list? Yes, it’s the menu of songs I mumble/sing to tiny humans when they are being fussy, need a blood draw, or just need an extra dose of TLC.  The seasonal special right now?

Baby It’s Cold Outside

OHMYWORD POLAR VORTEX BABIES! I love them.  And apparently, if the baby forecast is correct, this is just the beginning of the “storm”.  Right now we’re entering some November territory, which if I remember correctly, was the start of the legendary Vortex of 2013-2014.  And if some of the theories suggested in this article are right, I guess sometimes CVS just isn’t close enough.  *shrugs shoulders* I’ll take it, the wind chill for 90% of last winter was enough to bring me to wear a week’s worth of clothes in one day, all at once.  The list of necessities became a lot shorter as the temperature fell off the livability scale.  In fact, I think the only thing I was willing to venture out for by last January was either cheap whiskey and toilet paper.  Ok new parents, ya crazy kids. Thank you for your chubby-cheeked late Christmas gifts! They are sassy and fine.

Some other singin’ favorites/car tunes:

‘Mama’s Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys’–Willie

Blood Red Sentimental Blues–Cotton Jones

Let Him Fly–Patty Griffin

Valley of Death–Blitzen Trapper

Not that you want more winding tales of the thug lyfe (also found under the title, “The Fresh Nurse of PA”) but it’s what’s for dinner. OK? ok.

So baby nursing.

How I feel about mandatory black/white uniforms:



How I see the nursery:



How I interact with most infants:




When another nurse says “make the student do your _*insert task*” while gesturing towards me (while I’m clearly in the middle of doing my own official tasking. For my legit patients because you know, I have those now.  Also, have you seen my amazing new RN badge?! But sure.  I’ll do your _____.)


“WAIT.  you say there’re cupcakes in the break room?”


Your early discharge patient keeps calling you to tell you she’s ready, while you’re trying to discharge your other normal discharge patient and take an admission patient from the PACU.


Looking for anything on the unit. Or anyone:

“Go get the nipple shields” they said.  “would be right inside the door!”, they said.  They lie. 


The nurses station anytime there is a professional male sighted on the floor.  Male in scrubs.  (“and he’s gooood lookin’!”—Spunky Well-Seasoned Nurse) Oh wait…he’s a student? dang. *SorryWe’reNeverSorry* 


Finding your nursling buddy for food minutes:


Changing the baby in front of mom and dad after his circumcision:


(or anytime the baby cries and I happen to be in the room)

When a patient requests you to help breastfeed:


When you completely improvise this breastfeeding demo and what started out as dad trying to “milk” mom in front of a screaming infant, to you, grabbing your own chest** in desperation to demonstrate proper handling techniques to mom, to a quiet grizzly baby, relieved mom, and hands-off smiling dad!

**(realizing that you may need to make a Victoria’s Secret trip before your next demo because who’d have thought you’d actually need some material to work with before a show? I can’t wait to be able to tell the cashier that I need this psychedelically over-stuffed bra “for work”)

“Do I need to go to discharge class?” UMMM…..



Your new nurse friend shares her chocolate with you because the gift shop line was too long during your lunch break and she knew you were itching for sugar.  All while you’re rocking a fussy nugget: 15hlil2

Watching babies sleep:


Getting the vein on the first shot.  On what the PCT refers to as “a hard stick”:


The few times I’m able to solve patient woes!



So there’s the comic strip, and know that in between all the sass I do really enjoy the nurse life so far.  Can I keep on that for a second?  Well yeah I can, so thanks for parking it.  Despite enjoying OB nursing, I’m finding myself missing med-surg clinicals.  Holy cow what is coming out of my fingers. Of all unholy things! Med-Surg.. of all things! I can’t believe I’m typing that.  My internal nursing student PSTD-self is shrieking.  Med-surg was essentially the reason my junior year roommates couldn’t use the TV because I had LOTR on replay 24/7 in an effort to self-soothe after long clinical days.  So what’s with the rose-tinted rearview mirror action??  I think I miss having patients without an entourage.  Not that nursing in any area doesn’t involve the patient’s family but I miss patients who aren’t the popular item–do you get it?  I miss the elderly man who’s kids live in California and his wife has to work so she can’t make it into the hospital to visit.  I miss the little lady who tells you about how she fell in love with her husband while you’re changing her sheets.  I miss visiting with patients who actually seem (or pretend) to enjoy the light-hearted chatter or just a casual checking in-turned-to-conversation.  Cripes, I miss patients who can’t talk at all because they are waiting to escape a painful, ending body.  I even miss the grumps, the emotionally crusty patients who don’t want to give you the time of day.  They offer choices that no other patient can in regards to character–how you perceive and react to them is a practice in human puzzle solving.  Sometimes the puzzle isn’t necessarily solved, but you know the pieces make a bigger picture that just isn’t clear without some work.  Those patients are the essentially why I need to practice nursing like a vitamin.  That’s what I said, to do nursing like a vitamin.  It’s a practice that targets and supplements some areas of my own human deficiency in my ability to love others.  The use of the word “need” is a new concept to me in regards to a career because I really don’t think I need nursing to be who I am or anything like that, I could quit tomorrow and be just as complete as I was today, and I’m completely open to the idea of closing this career book someday if the time comes around.  I am using ‘need’ because I’ve been thinking a lot more about how I landed in the field, especially when I’m doing something else that I love, that makes me feel amazingly tuned into life (playing music! no pun intended..).  It’s easy to wonder why I chose to do something else while feeling so ‘tuned-in’ seeing the smiles (or the eyebrows) of the audience.  (Well, here’s a good reason–street fiddling doesn’t buy the moccasins.  Also I’d probably have to know how to read music so there’s that.  All pretty solid rationales to why my day job is a necessity. I digress.)  Honestly, if I had a preview of what school and post-school nurse life would be like before entering that crazy world, I would’ve quickly shut the door and walked away.   Sometimes I laugh when I think about how God may have “tricked” me into this predicament, but everyday I understand a tiny bit more of why he did!  Because I’m not naturally externally-focused.

” My life testifies that the first thing I believe is that I am the most important person in the world.  My life testifies to this because I care more about my food and shelter and happiness than about anybody else.  I am learning to believe better things.  I am learning to believe that other people exist, that fashion is not truth; rather, Jesus is the most important figure in history, and the gospel is the most powerful force in the universe.  I am learning not to be passionate about empty things, but to cultivate passion for justice, grace, truth, and communicate the idea that Jesus likes people and even loves them.”  –Don Miller, Blue Like Jazz p. 111-112.

Just an excerpt I read the other day, and as much as I wish I could smile and say it ain’t so, it’s simply too obvious.  There is this idea of a saint-like nurse, caring, smart, super intuitive, goes above and beyond set expectations out of the goodness of their sweet nursey hearts.  Goodness knows I might be one of those things on a reallly benevolent day.  The other days?  I’m selfishly thinking about how many hours are left till I can book it out of there, smiling to cover up the groan of laziness.  “hey! why don’t you/don’t you want to do ______”



Cause’ that’s just how I feel too often.  Not that I don’t do the things, play the flute, whateverwhatever. But I’ve come to think more so that nursing is a life filter that someone upstairs is using to weed my overgrown heart out.  Because, yes I come into a day seeing people as their lab values and how many orders are in for them (aka how much work have to do) but by the end of a real day, these people are making my heart do emotional yoga. Making it stretch bit by bit, in different ways that make me able to catch a glimpse of their ‘puzzle’.  So yeah, I’m not a saintly Florence Nightingale, and I might not be such a great gift to my patients, but perhaps the most necessary understanding of being a nurse is to accept ‘gifts’ from patients in the ‘stretch’ they provide.  Nursing doesn’t need me so much as I need the puzzle time.  Are there predicaments like this which you find yourself in?  Things that expose tiny voids you didn’t realize were there?

‘I’m Set Free’–The Velvet Underground

O.K. DONE! You are free.  Thank you darling, this is yours.

Vanilla ice cream met olive oil and they got funky with the salt


Aaannnddd you are sharing yes? Naw, it’s cool I had 3.

Your weekend is almost here, one more day!  Hope it’s swell, hug a tree, kick a rock.