A big part of my healing is speaking out. I have told or story a few times in the medical community not out of malice for the beautiful souls that cared for us, but out of love for the next families to walk this unexpected journey.
Today I was invited to speak at a 2 day conference being hosted at our hospital. When I realized the organizer was a nurse I have worked very close with to make a few changes happen. I eagerly volunteered my time to help out with anything they needed. I was here promptly at 2 as scheduled, and as quickly as I could take off my coat, I was lovingly escorted out. It seems as soon as I quietly sat in back the radar of 2 nurses went off. I was a potential emotional wreck in the making I guess. I hadn't even had a chance to focus on the current presentation let alone get upset.
So I'm sitting in a waiting room in the hospital out of earshot. Waiting until my time to share my story and knowing whatever presentation that is happening in there may be planting preconceived impressions of who I am and what I have to share. Then again, it may have also effected my words if I had listened in.
I guess my rawest thought right now is so what if I got emotional? So what if the information hurt to hear? Isn't it SUPPOSED to? We are talking about the death of my child. Talk to any loss mom and I promise you pure astonishment in the medical terminology she has acquired in her journey. Most of us can not only follow, but contribute to the most medically driven conversation on the topic. Most of us are better informed than the very medical community charged with caring for us.
In a few minutes I'll head back towards the floor. Let them see me pacing eagerly to share my son. I'm ok with that. If I cry, that ok. There were tissue boxes everywhere in that room of about 50 healthcare professions. We may even laugh. All that matters is that I'm heard. Get ready folks... I'm about to#doitforcj !
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