Dear rainbow moms, I am writing this letter on behalf of all the nurses in the maternity wards, on behalf of all the obstetricians, and on behalf of everyone who will be there to support you as you welcome these wonderful little ones into the world. I am writing this letter during this difficult time for all of us—and perhaps even more so for you, dear women who are about to bring new life into the world.
I know that all the anxiety in the world must be concentrated right now in your gut; I know that your heart, as overflowing with love as it may be, has no more room to cope with the changes currently taking place… “A knot in your stomach” is an expression that takes on its full meaning in your body, filled with unborn life…
Dear rainbow moms, I’m writing this letter in the hope of reassuring you. I’m writing to tell you that beneath the mask of the person who will be with you lies your greatest ally. I know that in some hospitals, no one will be allowed to accompany you; I also know that all your dreams of a perfect birth are buried under anxiety and a feeling of abandonment... I want to tell you that behind every mask you encounter, there will be the smile of a nurse ready to do whatever it takes to make this moment as beautiful as possible. I want to tell you that behind every mask, there will be empathy—and probably so much more...
Dear rainbow moms, I’m writing this letter to tell you that you’re not alone. I want to tell you that behind every mask, there will be this team—these obstetricians, these nurses, these patient care assistants—who will do their very best to ensure you’re not alone, who will do their very best to be a part of your very special and unique story.
Dear rainbow moms, I’d like to tell you that each and every one of us will be there to remind you of your strength, your capabilities, and your importance. Behind our masks, there will be that passion that was already within us, but which is growing even stronger now. There will be this desire to protect you and to be part of your bubble—or even to let you have it all to yourselves… Guide us toward your feelings, because our wish—if we had only one—is to make your childbirth as beautiful as possible, even in these times of hardship and chaos.
Dear rainbow moms, tell us your fears—tell us everything. We’re here for you; you’re not alone...
A colleague wrote these words, which inspired me to speak to all of you, our expectant mothers—those who, by force of circumstances, will have to adapt more quickly and more intensely than anyone could have anticipated. I’d like to share this with you to highlight just how much obstetrics has become a profession of the heart, a profession of gut instinct... Thank you, Catherine Tremblay, for putting into words what so many of us are feeling...
I won’t write the name of this virus so that it doesn’t appear yet again in your feed—one time too many.
BUT…
For the first time in my life, I’ll be staying home. It’s with some reluctance that I’m leaving my bed to head to the hospital. Those who know me know that being an obstetric nurse isn’t just my job—it’s part of who I am.
I’m a community nurse. I’ve never had any problem feeling my patients’ breath on my face with every contraction. I’ve never found it inappropriate when their hands squeeze mine or grip my arm, shoulder, or little roll of fat while they’re pushing. I’ve never hesitated to take their baby with my bare hands when I didn’t have time to put on gloves.
And now, when they arrive, panicked by the pain, before I can even put my hand on their shoulder to show them that I’m here and that I’ve got things under control, I have to ask them a dozen questions. Now I have to put on a mask. So they can’t see my smile, which would reassure them that “everything’s going to be okay!”
I’d like to add my voice to Catherine’s, as well as to all the masked healthcare workers you, lovely rainbow mom, will encounter: it’s going to be okay! You’re not alone—we’re here. I know you were hoping for better, but know that we’ll put our whole hearts into it—and probably a lot of our souls, too! Know that if the nurse asks you a thousand questions despite your pain, it’s because she has no choice. Know that she’s protecting you and that she’ll do her best for you, with all the love she has for her profession. Know that, just like you, she never imagined this time of pandemic...