Our Wonderfully Made

✨CRAZY STORY!!✨

This afternoon a loss mom friend of mine and I spoke our stories at the second Pregnancy and Infant Loss Workshop at the Winnipeg Birth Centre. It was awesome. Incredible. I am still blown away by the women in our city dedicated to creating and being part of some great changes in support offered to women going through pregnancy and infant loss. Winnipeg women – you rock. 👊🏻

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So, this time my friend and I decided to stay for the group-work portion of the workshop. The room of 30+ women were divided into five groups or so, as we read a story of one woman’s journey through two miscarriages and a stillbirth. As we went through the process, questions arose such as: what judgments did we make of the patient/practitioner throughout the story? What are some ways of support that could have been offered to this family? What emotions were this family going through, and what emotions as a care practitioner, were felt?

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Very interesting and though provoking discussion came from this. I decided to share one of my own experiences in the hospital, that to me, was an example of some practical ways practitioners can be mindful or supportive right now, as we work towards bigger changes and options for offering support.

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After our third D&C this past April, a surgery that didn’t quite go as planned, I was told I would spend the night at St. B rather than going home. I was on more drugs than I can count (morphine, fentanyl, percocet, naproxen, you name it, I was on it). This led me to go through dizzy spells, migraines, naseau, and feeling incredibly ill. I couldn’t make it to the bathroom on my own, and needed the aid of two nurses every time I needed to make my way there. Being aware that the ward was so busy, and the nurses working the night shift were being pulled left right and center, I felt so bad taking up TWO nurses time to make the slow, slow hobble to the bathroom throughout the night. I remember apologizing profusely when I had to call them, and what I expected, was for them to be (rightfully) stressed out, and hurry me along. But they didn’t. They reassured me there was no need to apologize, to take my time, that they had me.

There I was, sitting on the toilet with my hospital mesh panties down, naked.

 

Finally making my way to the washroom, I felt as if I was about to pass out. I got spinney, dizzy, and hot – so, so hot. I couldn’t handle it, and ripped my gown off. There I was, sitting on the toilet with my hospital mesh panties down, naked. Pretty vulnerable state. I was too sick to feel embarrassed, yet was vividly aware that this scene may be putting my wonderful nurses in an awkward position. They didn’t look away awkwardly, letting me fall down though. Rather, as one held my IV in one hand and my hair in the other, the other nurse rubbed my back, telling me to take my time. I was SO grateful for these humans in that moment. They could have passively aggressively rushed me, or left me in the washroom by myself assuring me I’d be fine and to ring that cord if I had an issue. What they did instead was support me (literally), truly care for me wholeheartedly, and went above and beyond.

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I told Branton the next day that I wanted to remember their names and write a thank you card to let them know how much I appreciated them. How much it meant to me that they took the time and care with me when I was in my lowest and most vulnerable state. Well, I forgot their names through the grief of losing our third baby and the drug haze, and have to this day regretted not writing them down and letting them know how amazing they are.

“… I was the nurse that helped you and rubbed your back that night.”

 

And then today something truly magical happened. I told this story to the group I joined in today’s workshop, and after the workshop ended, the beautiful girl sitting beside me throughout the discussion tapped me on the shoulder. She said, “… I was the nurse that helped you and rubbed your back that night.” CHILLS. I stared at her, blonde hair straightened, in street clothes (opposed to scrubs), and saw her – I saw that beautiful spirit that was so kind to me. Tearing up, I said, “Yes! It was you!!” She (her name is Erin, as she reminded me :), told me she didn’t put the two and two together until I shared that story (even after sharing our story earlier during the workshop), as I too was out of context (well first of all I was wearing clothes, never mind makeup ha). We sat there chatting (and tearing up together), “catching up”, sharing both our sides of that night’s experience with one another. I felt instantly connected to this woman, as we stayed talking until we realized all the chairs were put away and everyone other than those running the workshop had left.

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WOW. I don’t even know what to say. God, you are so, so good. Times like these I just sit back, pause, and wonder. “What are your plans for me?” I am immediately brought to one of the verses I prayed over and was comforted by during our pregnancy, and loss, with Lael:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “
plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
–  Jeremiah 29:11

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Throughout this journey, I have experienced a number of “crazy stories” and incidences such as this, and am continually blown away. I literally sat in my vehicle today for a minute before walking into the Birth Centre, praying for God to work through me, to give me the right words, and to place me where I needed to be. I sure didn’t (and don’t!) know where that is, or what that looks like, but I am trying to trust that He sure does. He knows the plans for me. Thank you Lord for guiding me, caring for me, and placing me right where I needed to be, today and always.

Trusting our journey,

Kayla 💕

XO