Okay, so yesterday I was feeling a little stir-crazy and annoyed.
But I don't want to give the impression that I hate the NICU Nurses, because -for the most part- I love the NICU Nurses.
They take care of my babies. They are really, really good at what they do. They know a lot about my babies, and all babies in general.
They are calming, and soothing and really patient with me when I spend forty-five minutes questioning them about exactly what they're measuring, and what bilirubin are, and why the boys are or are not sucking their pacifiers and what that means.
Some of the nurses, especially, are very good at making me feel like I'm not only not in the way, but also that it's important that I'm there.
Since I think it's important that someone is monitoring their oxygen intake and pulse and temperature, but I think it's equally important that someone is mothering and nurturing and snuggling and reading and singing to the boys.
And some of the nurses clearly don't feel that way.
But some of them do.
And those nurses are my favorite.
The nurses yesterday who were trying to force me to go home were not even my boys' nurses. My boys' nurses sit and talk with me.
They know why I'm there, and I'm confidant that if they think I should go home then they will tell me to go home and not try to intervene with the charge nurse unless I'm out of control.
The nurses who were trying to force me out were nurses who overheard me talking to Travis about sleep, and then decided to jump into the room and boss me around.
Those nurses I do not love.
My nurses I love.
I love Grey and Micah's nurses.
And I love that such nice ladies are taking care of my boys.
Oh, and I do not love that my boys have been moved from their private room with their own private nurse to the regular Special Care Unit where we have to share the room with six other babies, and the nurse has other responsibilities besides whether or not Micah is fidgeting.
I want them being tended to with obsessive care.
Is that so much to ask?