How my job has made me a better mom...

...and the other way around too.

I'm pretty lucky, if I might say so myself.  Not only do I have a job (quite the accomplishment in today's world) but I absolutely, unquestionably love my job.  I love it so much, that I'm slightly nervous about graduating and becoming a nurse and discovering I enjoyed nursing assisting more.

I'll deal with that another day.

The third blessing of a job like mine is the amazing carry over of lessons and skills learned, back and forth between parenting and caregiving in the professional setting.

Parenting and caring for the elderly: Much of the same, only different sized diapers.

Today, I'm sitting around with my daughters, listening to one scream for no real reason, all three hacking and blowing snot on every surface within a three foot radius of their little bodies, one is demanding to watch Leap Frog movies on Netflix, the other is demanding to have complete control of my iPad.  I'm the calm epicenter of the chaos, but a few years ago I definitely couldn't have boasted such a position.  I remember being a very angry, impatient and short fused sort of parent.  

Bring it, oh ye tiny mongers of mania.

Since delving into my current position headfirst, I've learned so much about caring for people, about being compassionate, about how to really listen to people.

I've learned to abandon all stereotypes at the door, no matter what their chart tells me, no matter what I may overhear someone saying about this or that patient.  I've seen how treating them just the same as any other human being on this planet and showing them that they are worthy of the same care as anyone else can make them come alive.  I give them a chance to show me who they are.  I've learned to extend that same courtesy to my daughters.  I can't treat them each like a cookie cutter little girl.  I need to wait and see who they are, who they're becoming, see how different they are from each other as well as how different they may be from other little girls we know.  

I have absolutely no idea what she'll grow to be, but I'll wait and see.

I've learned that when faced with something scary and unknown, we just want to be heard.  Our questions, our fears, our uncertainties.  We want someone to take us seriously.  I slow down and I listen.  Everyone is saying something; you just have to be patient, you just have to wait and give them the time they need to get the words out properly.  Even the ones who are conscious but can't talk are trying to tell you something, in most cases.  It may be a busy night, I may feel hurried and stressed, but giving them just a second to be heard and demonstrating that I understand and that I'll follow through (if not now, eventually) can calm most people down.  My girls are no different.  Panic attacks abound in this house; tiny, high pitched panic attacks about crayons or food or clothing or toys.  Ripped paper and stomping feet.  Wails and plates tossed onto the floor.  Whereas they haven't been through enough life to learn social mores must prevail over emotional whims, the people I care for in the hospital may not be of sound enough mind to or may be too afraid to devote enough energy to minding their manners, perhaps they're in too much pain.  First, as at work also at home, I need to show I'm listening when I ask what they need.  Not in that offhand, "What the hell are you crying for?" kind of way.  But in the eye-level-gaze-meeting-reassuring-I-am-here-to-fix-it kind of way.  And then I do it.  If I can't, I explain why and I offer something else or I offer to find someone who can.  

Or I find someone who can give them an Ativan, but I can't do that at home with my kids, so that's not for this post.

Or candy.  Candy works too.

I've learned that everyone has a story to tell and they, usually, desperately want someone to hear it.  No matter how old they are.  Someone needs to listen and show interest, someone needs to validate the importance of that person's words.  I've learned that this starts so young.  I'm still practicing this at home with my children, but I've experienced firsthand how not listening to a child can create an adult who doesn't feel important enough to be heard.  An adult who won't talk at all, because they remember how they were once hushed or ignored.  Everyone deserves the kind of validation that comes from being heard, because with validation comes a sense of being important enough to garner a bit of attention.  We all deserve to feel important, and that starts right away, not at fifteen or twenty.  I listen to my baby the same as I listen to my toddler and my big girl.

From her point of view, this must've been quite the adventure.  She's got a grand tale to tell.

I've learned the power of the "placebo" (I can't think of any other way to describe it, so I use placebo).  Chemistry is wonderful.  Medications are powerful.  But so are hand holding, ice packs, positioning and comfort food.  Sometimes I feel that my position is much less important than the nurses, but I've seen that it's not less, it's simply different.  I attend to the needs of patients within my own parameters and sometimes that can be just as meaningful.  In the same manner, we avoid giving medications at home.  Barring a fever of 104 (though even then I don't medicate but because I can't figure out how to administer tylenol to a little baby.  That was a bad night) I comfort and quiet them any way I possibly can before reaching for our bathroom pharmacy.  We save money and we're closer, we trust each other to help in healing and I feel like it makes me a more present mom than I used to be.

It's a back and forth relationship.  As I learn to be a more patient mother, I become a more patient caregiver in the halls of my floor at the hospital, and vice versa.  One patient even asked me if I had difficult children, since I was tending to her"pickiness" so well.  The word was hers, not mine.  I considered it knowing exactly what she wanted, how she wanted it, and being able to communicate it very well.  When I leave the room I may smile at the nurse a knowing smile, it may exasperate me, but I'm impressed by people who aren't afraid to ask for just what they need.

I've learned to never take my job for granted.  I'm lucky to have been hired, lucky to be there, lucky to love what I do and for it to enhance my life in the ways that it does.  I had no idea two years ago that I'd be where I am now, but I am so grateful to the path that led me here just as I am ever amazed at destiny's hand in granting me three beautiful children and a fantastic husband.

So very lucky.

It's not just me, though.  It's a pervasive truth present in all of our lives.  We have something to learn about being good parents from every situation we find ourselves in.  We learn how to be good human beings daily from watching our children.  With every experience we gain, we have the choice to use it to become better, become more, let it grow us, let it build us into something great.  Take those opportunities whenever they come.  Watch how it changes you.  Watch yourself becoming great.