finding my voice

Today I found my voice in the treatment room. It was a busy Wednesday – the busiest we have had. There were 20 outpatients kids and 15 inpatients. I estimated that I did about 25 procedures supports. It was so busy, but it was an amazing day. At times there were 3 kids, each with a sister and a CLS getting their dressing changed at the same time, but I was able to find my voice today and speak up for the kids. We all worked hard today to advocate for comfort holds. Whenever possible we would suggest a more comfortable way to hold and position the children. By the end of the day, the sisters were asking us to hold the children on our laps, or instructing the mothers to hand the kids to us because we would comfort them during the treatment. It was so thrilling to see.

I also spoke up to help deescalate a stressful situation by reminding the sisters that the little girl’s response was not because she was being defiant, but because she was scared. I’m not sure if they agreed with me, but they did soften their approach and what could have been a high stress situation was diffused quickly. It’s often hard for me to find my voice in those situations because my role is to advocate for the child, but to do so without alienating other staff. To find my voice successfully in that situation was a very empowering feeling.

One little girl stood up during her dressing changes and just clung to my neck. I couldn’t pry her off. I took her back to her bed and she was so sweet and smiling. I walked by later and she was crying. A doctor was standing by her bed and said she didn’t know what was wrong with the little girl. I asked if she wanted to be picked up and she raised her arms toward me. I picked her up and again she just clung to my neck. She held on so tightly that at one point I thought she was going to choke me. I tried to move her, but that just made her hold on tighter. She began to calm and the other mothers commented that it was finally peaceful. One mother noted that “they just need comforted.” It’s so true. So much of what these children need is just someone to hold them and make them feel safe in this threatening environment. She began to fall asleep and I tried to adjust her in my arms, but every time I moved (even though she was asleep) she would cling to me tighter, so I remained with her and just gave her the opportunity to feel safe.

Later today we were discussing how the day had gone with the Child Life team. It was an extremely busy day and we all felt as though we’d been pulled in a million different directions. It is both emotionally and physically exhausting to assist in these treatments, but at the end of the day we all felt the positive experiences and improvements far outweighed any negative. We counted it as a very successful day.

I also decided today that maybe it’s a good thing I decided to stay with Child Life and not pursue my nursing path at this time. A sister gave me some medicine to give to a child through a syringe. Normally this would not be something I would do at home, but when there is such limited staff, everyone has to end up helping out with somethings they normally wouldn't. I do have my limits of course, and won’t do anything that could be perceived as potentially threatening to a child, so I only give meds when they kids are willing recipients. Anyway, the little boy I was holding was sucking on the syringe as I slowly pushed the meds into his mouth. It became difficult to push the syringe further so I took it out of his mouth to see what was wrong. There was quite a bit of air at the front of the syringe, so I pointed it up and tried to push a little of the air out. It wouldn’t budge, so I pushed a bit harder. All of a sudden there was a pop and the brown meds went spraying up into air all over the ceiling. I started laughing as the meds began raining down around me. I called Danielle in to look at the ceiling and asked her if she thought it looked like a significant amount of meds. We both just laughed and laughed. Guess I’ll stick to Child Life. ☺

This evening I went to my first ever book reading. It was held at the little bookshop on the corner by my apartment. The book is “Invisible Earthquake” by Malika Lueen Ndlovu. It is a collection of poems documenting the authors experience with stillbirth. It is a pretty powerful book and gives voice to a topic that is often suffered through in silence. The description of the grieving process was especially moving. It offers hope and healing and, while I haven’t read the whole thing, the parts that were read tonight were wonderful. I went up to Malika afterwards to tell her how much I appreciated her readings and how the book had meaning in my roles as a CS. As I was walking home, I realized that I had actually gone up and talked to this woman – something my shy self would not usually do. I think I might actually be growing up here – and finally finding my voice.