Meant for More

I've always felt that my heart could hold more. More happiness, joy, sadness, and love. I'm always amazed at life's wondrous, joyful moments, but as long as I can remember, I've had a feeling that my heart was meant to hold more sadness and more love. And that has never been more true than working in health care. 

Today was a rough day at work. It was my first real Code Blue. We're talking get the crash cart, chest compressions, push Epi, and lots of organized chaos Code Blue. Putting my hands on this child's chest, while wrong in every possible way, gave me a sense of fulfillment in life. Being apart of the sadness, and even greater the love, that comes from working with very, very sick children, that's where I need to be. Comforting families, helping with procedures, doing anything and everything to get these people healthy again. There are so many moments in these jobs that are wonderful. Seeing people that came in so sick and seeing them walking, talking, and breathing is amazing and gives you a sense of joy that isn't felt elsewhere. Like knowing that you can make a difference in people's lives for the better, and that even though you have to poke their hand a dozen times a day, they'll smile when you tell them they are more brave than their favorite superhero.

And then there are days like today. Where no matter how hard everyone tries, that sick little body just can't handle any more. Where you put your hand on that child's chest and push with all your emotional and physical strength to hear the doctors tell you to stop compressions. Where the parents are sobbing, as a piece of their heart has just been torn from their body and beaten to a pulp and you have to clean up and let them grieve. In the midst of all that sorrow and pain, is peace. 

There wasn't a part of that room that wasn't filled with either people fighting to save a life or guardian angels. And I can tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, the clarity that was in all our minds and the steadiness of all our hands was no coincidence. There is divine intervention in every single inch of every single hospital; I felt it today more than ever. 

Even though I may have cried when I sat in my car at the end of the day, I know that my heart can handle all that sadness. I could cry every single time I code a child, but there will still be room in my heart for more. More love for children, more love for serving them, more happiness at seeing them get better, more sadness for when they don't. Because deep, deep down, my heart isn't content unless I am helping someone. 

This job may be rough, and today will most certainly not be the last time I cry from it, but I can assure you that I can handle it; it's what I was meant to do.

***They tell you to find an outlet for your stress, and unfortunately for all of you reading this, writing is the way I best unwind my brain.