*Face Palm*

Oh my gosh, how to begin... I was in rare form today. I wish I meant that in a good way. I arrived late to the ward because of transportation issues. This felt weird and made for a shorter day. There were LOTS of laboring women and it had been a crazy, busy night so the beds were full of new mamas and babies. Blood and rubbish everywhere and lots of wailing from the youngest present. 

All of this is really not that unusual so I'm not sure why I felt so off my rocker but I could not pull it together. All. Day.

For one, I was unable to comfort anyone. Either they weren't interested in a back rub (Um, what?) or I couldn't persuade them to try different positions, walk or even stand. If a mama wanted water, I didn't have it for her and had to go find some. If I had water and offered it, she wasn't interested. If I could be in the way, I was in the way. Literally, around every corner, I was rushing to move my body so that I wouldn't collide with something or someone. I tried to anticipate needs only to be told that what I was doing or getting wasn't right. I asked too many questions and some were ignored. I splashed bloody water all over my foot and leg. 

I was the proverbial "bull in a china shop."

One darling midwife, whom I almost never get to see, came up to me at the beginning of her shift, called me by name, gave me a hug and told be how happy she was to see me. In response, I called her by the wrong name and in my horrible attempt to explain myself (in a language that I am still learning), I told her she looked like a "boob." A BOOB!! I ask you, now who's the boob?? Oh my gosh. My red face and burning ears added to my humiliation and I just wanted to die. The poor thing just smiled at me and looked really confused but thankfully, not offended.

At some point during the day, I rushed off to the tea room, shut the door, leaned against the wall and deep-breathed for a few minutes. I also asked the Lord for mercy. It was after this that I left the back rubbing and birth education to my cohort and stuck to mopping and changing linens. 

I think things can only go up from here. That's what I'm telling myself tonight each time I relive the boob conversation. *palm to forehead* 

In other news: I named the resident tea room rat, "Oscar." It seems a fitting name for such a cheeky fellow.