My Venn Diagram, as an Adult

Back in middle school, I recall making venn diagrams. Things in this circle overlapped with things in another circle, but didn’t overlap with things in a third circle. This is similar to how I think adult life works.

It is rare, okay maybe impossible unlikely, for a friend or person to understand how all of the circles function in another persons’ life. In one portion of my “life venn diagram” is my role as a twin mother. In another, is my hobby as a runner. In a third circle, is my career path as a nurse practitioner. Plenty of other roles overlap all of these circles—wife, friend, wanna-be-professional-shopper (ha!). My friend Laura, who is largely responsible for my ever even starting running, probably comes the closest in regards to truly understanding most of my venn circles—she runs (although such a chill/fast/laid back runner who doesn’t overanalyze every run like I do, ha!), is a mom (not twins though), and is a fellow nurse practitioner in the NICU. However, she could never 100% relate, since she doesn’t have a mirror image duplicate (aka twin) of her sweet baby Ryan; and, she doesn’t work 24-hour shifts (yet). But in the same sense, she has venn circles in her world that I too could never completely understand or relate to.

As a runner, I am very open about my running life. I freely share my happy moments and my woes—mostly via this wonderful technology thing called a blog. I am not afraid to post excellent race times, and even the marginally mediocre ones too. My career world is different. I rarely share much about that “circle” of my life—largely because it is a complex world in the NICU, but also to avoid comments or statements that might be viewed as complaining. Not to mention, there is always the HIPPA concern.

I do think however, to fully understand me as a runner, you should also understand other portions of my life. It goes without saying, being a twin mother is hard, but equally, rewarding (most days….). Many of my friends are married, so they can easily relate to the role as a wife/husband and how difficult, but again, very rewarding it is to work hard at a happy marriage. Being a Neonatal Nurse Practitioner (NNP) is different though. Unless you’ve personally experienced the NICU—that stands for Neonatal Intensive Care Unit—for my non-medical friends—you can’t fully understand how gratifying, yet taxing it can be, day in and day out.

I can’t imagine though, ever working in any other area of the medical field. My career path was perfectly suited for me. Although some of my thoughts might seem to be from a complaining mindset, it is truly not. I really wanted to elaborate upon what exactly I do. I am asked this, pretty regularly, by close friends {“What exactly do you do… Change diapers? Feed bottles?}—so maybe writing my thoughts and experiences on “paper” can offer more insight about my NNP venn circle.

Twenty-four hour shifts aren’t required, but I do them because they work best for my family. They are NOT easy, nor for the weak. But they work out perfectly for me. Sometime I work a 12-hour shift or even {gasp!} an 8-hour shift. Those “short” shifts are a real treat. For my typical 24-hour day, I arrive at work by 6:30am. I return home the following morning, usually, by 8am—sometimes I am lucky and leave at 7:30am; other times though, I don’t pull out of the parking garage until 8:30 or 9am. Yes, you counted correctly—although they are called a 24-hour shift, it really is more like 25 or 26 hours.

I am a creature of habit. I like the same process in the same way, every day. The hard part is, you can’t tell babies to only be born at “X” time of the day; so this creature of habit process isn’t always possible. Flexible—we must be flexible as NNPs. I start every 24-hour shift with a latte—Starbucks for the win. The first 2ish hours of my day are spent gathering data—a pure numbers game, full of calculations with my handy-dandy calculator. Precise—we must be precise as NNPs. Next, I assess babies. This basically means I check them out from their head to their little toes, while looking for anything that might be wrong. I also assess their cuteness—yes folks, some babies are not cute, despite the BS that many people say/think. But most are quite adorable {insert puffy heart clouds}. After that, I meet with the doctor…. if I am lucky. Since I am the “late stay” person most days, this doesn’t always happen in the most prompt manner. Around lunchtime, I might sit down and start on my paperwork. Or it could be a day when a little premature 24-week gestation baby decides to enter the world, early; in which case, I am busy getting them situated with procedures and such. Around 3pm, I take over care for a few more babies, as a fellow NNP, only working 8 hours, gets to go home. The same thing happens around 6pm, when any remaining NNPs get their turn to head home. And then, just like that, 12 hours after my day began, I am it. There are no fellow NNPs to bounce ideas off of, or even to chat with. I am on my own with 30-some sick babies. Aside from me, there is only one other person to make the big, and sometimes difficult decisions. Lucky for me, that doctor is always in the hospital {at some NICUs, the doctor goes home and is “on call” from home, should they be needed}. The rest of my night is spent doing a potpourri of stuff—more paperwork, office projects, assessing babies, admitting new babies, etc. And yes, even some sleep gets thrown in… if I am lucky, in my nifty call room. And no, it is not like Grey’s Anatomy—no “action” occurs in these call rooms. That I know of…. A new day dons and I happily await the next shift of NNPs arrival. My body is tired and my bed is calling my name.

Sounds like fun, right? Not too demanding?! Well, correct about fun {usually}, but wrong about demanding. It’s definitely challenging, but like I said before, SO SO rewarding {visualize some more of those puffy heart clouds}.

The list goes on and on, as far as what the job actually entails. I’ve handed babies to their mothers to hold for the first time… at 6 weeks of age—yes, 42+ days AFTER they delivered their small miracle. And boy do they cry big ugly crocodile tears during that momentous cuddle session. Love it! Sadly though, I’ve also handed babies to mothers or fathers knowing they would soon be taking their last breath & this would be their last cuddle session. I’ve cried with parents, but most times I’ve been stoic and shed tears privately. Almost 11 years in the NICU will do that to you—gives you a hard exterior. Tough—we must be tough as NNPs. I’ve intubated {this means inserting a breathing tube} ONE pound babies, as well as NINE pound babies. I stick tiny needles in tiny baby backs. I put catheters in the umbilical cord. I poke little needles into arteries & veins to collect blood. On occasion, I even sometimes put a tube through the side of the chest wall. Basically, I help save tiny lives, which without the help of present day technology, those babies would never survive. But honestly, the true heroes are the amazing babies, fighters really, who rally daily to keep on, keepin’ on! And through it all, I feel very lucky to have a career where I never go home wishing I didn’t have to go back to work.

So why is this even relevant to a running blog, you might ask? Well, basically this. When the going gets tough on a long run, I have plenty of motivation to propel me forward. I am blessed to have two very healthy boys. I have my own health. We have my husbands’ health. I have an amazing village of friends & family around me, who through their hard work & dedication push me to be the best I can be. I can always think back to those 24+ hour shifts where I didn’t get sleep, & sometimes a nutritious meal, but still, pressed right on through knowing the end was in sight. This mindset during those tough work situations is a lot like the final marathon miles. You just keep trudging on through. Just like the 1,440 minutes during those 24 hours, the 26.2 miles will eventually end—someway, somehow.

I feel very fortunate that I have been given so many venn circles on my diagram—all roles in which I strive daily to improve & I strive to help others. If you fall into one of those circles of my life, THANK YOU for being YOU & being a part of my story. And, thanks for taking the time to read this lengthy post about the arena of medicine that I truly adore!

Please enjoy these pics from prior patients of mine, whom I keep up with. I won’t post the sad stories here, just a few of the happy ones. Of course, permission to post these photos was obtained from their mommas. Each & every one of these cuties has come a tremendous way from the 24-28 weeks gestation that they were each born at! I am incredibly honored to have been a part of their story.