This week, the unit I work in moved into a brand new space. UWMC built a new addition to the hospital, primarily to house our long-awaited, state-of-the-art NICU, which will be my new home (away from home). While I am so excited for this beautiful, roomy, light-filled, quiet unit and the palpable joy/comfort it brings our families and patients, I am also finding myself grieving our old space. I spent my first 4 years in that unit, and while physically, it was nothing to write home about, the families were inspiring and every single baby that I cared for touched my heart. This was my first job out of college and 6 North was the unit that shaped me into the nurse I am today. I experienced all of my firsts in that space and I learned more about myself than I ever thought possible in 4 short years. My excitement for the move was obvious- I couldn’t wait for more space, private rooms for families, and incredible views! When move day arrived, I came onto the unit excited and anxious- “let’s do this already!” I wasn’t feeling sad about leaving…my focus was simply, “on to better things!”
What I didn’t realize at the time, and what hit me later in the day, was how much a physical space connects you to a memory, a family, a life, or a life lost. After my patient was settled in the beautiful new wing, I attended a farewell blessing for the old unit. There, the focus was entirely different. It was a way to say goodbye to everything that had happened there, but most importantly remembering the babies who died there. For families, it was the only place where they spent time with their child here on earth. I listened to mothers’ stories, physicians’ experiences and words of wisdom, and nurses’ memories. I watched as tears fell and emotions surfaced all over again. I acknowledged my own memories, images in my mind that I have tucked into a deep, hidden corner of my heart- the first night that I held a lifeless infant in my arms, the first time I prayed with a family as they said goodbye, the faces and names of every single baby that left this physical world but never our hearts. As my own emotions and memories surfaced, I recognized that it is OK to grieve, and it is OK to cry. I realized that finding a bit of closure is so important as I move forward in my career. I realized that while the new unit will provide a better space for healing, this old unit will always have the memory of many tiny footprints come and gone and will forever be a sacred place for the thousands of families who once walked through those doors. For them, I want to say that we will never forget, and they will be a part of that place and our hearts…forever.