A submission by Nurse Nacole

When I had my miscarriage, I couldn't articulate my pain. It, she, he... I still don't know the appropriate term. We were eight years into our infertility journey when we found out I was pregnant. We were so excited, it finally happened. But then, it was over. It was so finite and clipped. I found out at work, as I was standing in the clean utility room, mid-shift and I almost collapsed. I didn't know how to manage my feelings, let alone manage them at work with six patients. It took me a week to get out of bed, two weeks to go back to work and a month to see children in public. When I returned to work, something interesting happened. 


My patient had just lost here baby. She lost her child at two months. She was in tears, and soon, even I was in tears. But something in me changed. I didn't want her to give up, on hope or being a mother. I told her that we both would get past this devastating points in our lives. It seemed hopeless, but there is more to life. We both pinky-swore we would get past these tragedies and wouldn't allow them to stop us from dreaming, and you know what? She got pregnant six months later and had a healthy baby boy (she sent me a card). And years later, I finally met the son we tried for over a decade to see. Nursing isn't just about vital signs and medications, it's about connecting with the people in your community. I will never forget that woman, that experience or the moment in time where we both were vulnerable and needed each other.