Aunt Vickie, RN

This post is quite belated, but I'm hoping it's better late than never.  These days, it takes a while to string a series of ideas together in a coherent way.

Vickie and Nora in the delivery room.

Before Nora was born, Vickie liked to joke about how many "jobs" I originally gave her when she said she would attend my delivery.  It did not strike me as odd to ask her to keep people updated via text, take video, snap pictures, keep track of visitors, and act as a liaison between the hospital staff and me.  Vickie is the ultimate multi-tasker.  The more responsibilities she has, the more she gets done.

As we approached 40 weeks, though, I told Vickie she didn't really have to do any of these things.  Sure, her medical expertise would come in handy.  But the real reason I wanted her to be there with me was because I was uncertain and unsure about labor, and Vickie is someone you want to have around if you are uncertain or unsure.  Vickie exudes calm.  Her presence alone is reassuring. I knew that Billy would be able to say all the right things and remind me of all the coping mechanisms we learned in childbirth class.  But I worried he and I might get overwhelmed with the stress and emotion of the moment, and I knew having Vickie there when labor got intense would help keep us on an even keel.

Ten months ago, I found myself overwhelmed by the stress and emotion of a very different situation.  Vickie, Billy, and I stayed at Dad's house during his final days.  Vickie took the lead in providing his hospice care, and all the friends and family who came to be with him helped us look after his needs.  Billy was there to provide the strong emotional support I can always count on him to give.  But helping Vickie care for Dad's medical needs took its toll on me.  She did most of it by herself, but there were tasks she couldn't manage on her own.  When I think back on the things she and I went through in those final days, the only way to explain how I endured them is to say that I couldn't have done it without her.  I have never met anyone more capable of putting on a brave, confident face and demonstrating a calm, reassuring demeanor no matter how bad things get.  She is calm, capable, and comforting.  There must have been times when she was breaking inside, too, but she never let that prevent her from caring for everyone else.  I will always remember the time I cracked Dad's door open to check on him and saw that she had fallen asleep on his bed while holding his hand through the guard rail of the hospital bed we'd moved him into.  It touched my heart, and it was the only sign she ever gave that she was exhausted, too.  But even in that moment, she still prioritized comforting him.

So having Vickie in the delivery room with me was a no-brainer.  Since she, Billy, and I had begun our 2011 keeping each other sane as we said goodbye to someone we love dearly, it felt natural for the three of us to be together again as we prepared to say hello to someone else we love dearly.  It felt like we had come full circle.  When Vickie moved in with us last year, it was harder on all of us than we anticipated.  It was taking me and Billy much longer to conceive than expected.  It was taking Vickie much longer to find a suitable job than expected.  A year later, it felt like a special gift that the three of us were able to share the experience of such a wonderful time after spending those difficult months together.

I don't know how long we will be fortunate enough to keep Vickie in Baltimore, so I don't know how long the adolescent patients at Hopkins will be fortunate enough to have her as their nurse.  But there are a few things I know for sure.  Vickie is exactly the type of person you would want to care for your child if your child was not well.  She is also exactly the type of aunt you would want your daughter to grow up knowing, learning from, and admiring.  So for as long as she is here, Nora and I will cherish her companionship, and I hope that in the end, Nora, Vickie, and I will all be better for it.

I love you, Boo.  It feels trite to say Thank you for everything, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart.