I love my baby. I love all of my kids with every fiber of my being, of course. But I'm just sitting here in my quiet house holding my tiny girl and I'm just overwhelmed with love and peacefulness. Looking at her perfect, chubby little face sleeping so deeply in my arms just makes my heart skip beats. I waited for her for so long and she's perfect. I know so many people who struggle with fertility issues or their children have health problems and my heart breaks for them. I wish I could somehow help take that pain away because I can only imagine how it must hurt. I'm so thankful I've been so lucky and I try to remember every day not to take that for granted. I got frustrated last night with Hunter because he was scared to sleep alone. I told him I'd take him to his dad's because that's where Katelyn was. A few minutes later, I went to his room to see if he was dressed and he was throwing clothes everywhere and looked so angry. So I just stopped for a second and then said "Do you want me to lay down and cuddle with you until you fall asleep?"... He looked down at the floor and whispered "yes". Sometimes - especially now that I have a newborn - I have to remind myself that he was my baby for a long time and he's not going to be little forever. While I was getting frustrated with him, he was just hoping for some time where my focus was solely on him. So we laid down and I held him in my arms and I cried a little. He and Katelyn have gotten so big. Time goes by so fast.
That brings me to my next thought... old people. I love them. I touched on how much I love the elderly in my first post on this blog. I'm a long term care nurse and I don't know that I could ever be any other "kind" of nurse. Older people bring me so much joy. They're all so cute and sweet and, often, they don't have filters. And I LOVE THAT. Nothing puts a smile on my face like hearing "well, doesn't she have a big ass?" or "they'll all be sorry whenever I find my shotgun". I don't even care if they're talking about me. Whatever. It's cute and funny and I like it. I was punched in the face by a man years ago working as a nurse aide and he laughed after he did it and I couldn't even be mad. He didn't know what he was doing. Dementia is a sad thing that not enough people (especially families) understand.
Sometimes I sit at work and just watch my residents. I watch them and I find myself wondering about their lives before they were there. I think about the fact that they were someone's babies. Their mothers held them in their arms just like I'm holding Averi and thought about how beautiful and perfect they were. They were children, teenagers, they were married and had children and watched them grow. I wonder about their careers, their accomplishments, their hobbies... I sit and watch and I listen to their confusion. As I said, dementia is a sad thing... but it drives my passion for what I do. The people I take care of had full, rich lives. I'm sure they rarely thought about aging and even more rarely thought about their own mortality. I would do anything I could to make the quality of my resident's lives better. Even when I'm tired because it's 3am and the halls are quiet, all it takes is a glance for me to remember why I love what I do. I am driven by a passion to care for these people at the ends of their lives because I'll be there one day and I hope someone will care for me.
"Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness."
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