Happy Birthday, Hannah.

To my daughter on the eve of her birthday:
   I've spent the last hour typing and erasing and typing and erasing. It seems that no matter what I write is an inadequate description for what I feel inside. I remember the night I married your dad, thinking there was no way I could love him anymore. Then you came along and proved me wrong. I watch the way you've changed him, the way you've changed me, the way you've changed us. It was like WE were meant to be. I know that God specifically picked you for our life. I know that this was not by chance.
 I drove home from work tonight and tried to remember what life was like without you and I couldn't. Maybe it's because I don't want to remember what life was like before you- before I knew you and before I really knew me. You see, Hannah, the moment you were born was the exact moment that I was born.  I remember your dad telling me to open my eyes and there you were. A tiny girl with a heart shaped mouth, strawberry blonde hair, and a nose that mimicked a smaller version of my own (about the only physical trait we share).  I knew we were in for great things. I had found my calling- I was put on this earth to take care of you. Even in my frail old age, I promise to do just that. 
 There are no words, no emojis, and no insightful quotes to describe what this year has been like. What its been like to feel your tiny breaths against my chest, or hear your voice calling for me at 4am or hear that giggle that only your father can bring out- but its been magnificent, and magical, and exhausting, and inspiring. It's been the best, because while this was officially the first year of your life, in so many ways it was also the first year in mine. 
Happy Birthday, Hannah Catherine. You are loved. 

Love, 
Mom

Back in the Game...

I've been an ER nurse for 8 years (what?!) and with that comes some very proud moments and some very hard moments. Burn out is nothing new to the world of nursing. There are endless studies on it and countless attempts to prevent it, but it's almost inevitable. I am not the exception. Somewhere between the physical pains, the mental exhaustion, and the patient complaints- I was burnt out. I no longer felt the adrenaline run through my veins like I used to. Each night, I try to unwind and forget about the things I could have done better, the things I promised to do before I left, but forgot, and the things I wish I wouldn't have said, but it's hard to separate a passion and a career.   Last week, I had a particularly trying day. I forgot the sequence of medications you give to treat hypokalcemia and I paused when a doctor asked me the policy for propofol drips. I was failing at a craft I was once was very good at. But, just like everything else in my life, I've learned to look for signs that everything is going to be okay.  I came home and glanced at a notification on my phone- a doctor I work with had sent me a facebook message.  I assumed it was a hack, but I opened it anyway. And I saw this...


And just like that I was back in a game I so very much love. Thank you, Dr.