Every monday I prepare myself for another 12 hour shift at the maternity. I’d like to say it’s usually simple cases , low risk births, but for some reason.(epidemiology will answer that for me) lately it has not been the case. In my residency program, 2-year residents have the luxury of not sharing the shift. It means that for all of those 12 hours, I do basically every procedure set to ocurr that day. It’s a messy blur of activity,and I love every minute of it. I love being there when a baby make its first cry known to the world, when a mother is born, or reborn. I also love the adrenaline of emergency,life-threatening cases (specially when I’m able to make a diagnostic well before an issue becomes life threatning).
but there are moments that mark themselves on memory,so deep within you that it catches you off-guard when you least expect it. Every doctor has at least one, I believe. For me, both of those moments happened within the maternity. The first was a funny one. I was performing a c-section, and when my preceptor held th baby for me to clamp the umbilical cord, the baby held my finger (rather strongly) and stared straight into my eyes, holding my gaze steadily for some 30 seconds. Man, no newborn baby is able to foccus like that, let alone a second old baby. Color me spooked!
The other is one that I believe will be marked on my memory as a picture of desperation. I was attending a natural birth that was progressing calmly, if rather slowly. But the mother was great, cooperative, up until the moment to push came. I could feel her losing control ( I tell you man birthing a baby takes a helluva mind power- you can easily lose all rationality, in a matter of second). I coaxed her best as I could, but as a result, the expulsive moment took an hour.baby’s heartbeat was slowing down. I was almost calling for an emergency c-section when the mother gave on big final push and the baby was out. Thick meconium followed him out. I clamped the umbilical cord, handed the baby over to the pediatrician, and congratulated the mother- I always congratulate the mother . I believed the baby would soon cry- it had movement in the seconds I held him. But he didn’t, and his mother grew anxious as the clock ticked. This is the moment I’m sure I won’t forget so soon: as I worked on her tearing, I could see her peering at her baby boy, chanting over and over ‘’ cry for me , baby, please. Cry for momma, please’’. I pride myself on being level headed, rational if facing a task to be completed. But I couldn’t. As she repeated her pleas, I had to take a step back and compose myself. Got the sutures done, but I still remember her quiet desperation asking her baby to take a breath for her.
you try not to become attached to your work. You’re supposed to get in, attend for 12 hours, get out , leaving all you lived behind. But you don’t. They follow you, and become a part of who you are.
no amount of training prepares you for that