48 hours.

"Yet do I marvel. . . ."

~ Countee Cullen

_______________________________________________

In 48 hours, I:

• Talked on the phone with my very pregnant best friend about what life would be like for her as a new mommy.
• Rounded with my team while admiring all of the staff who were wearing Santa hats.
• Smiled at a Respiratory Therapist who had his nose painted red like Rudolph.
• Thought about my friend Davina and her son, C.J., who was born on December 24.
• Told my friend Davina that I was thinking of her and her son C.J. who was born on December 24.
• Donned brand new Christmas eve pajamas with the kids. And Harry, too. (Major feat, people.)
• Popped a big bowl of (real-from-a-heavy-pot-not-microwave) popcorn to bring downstairs to the "man cave" for a Christmas eve family movie night. (Equally major.)
• Also brought down extra blankets and gourmet caramel apples (sliced, please)--upon Isaiah's request.

• Realized that although I've read The Polar Express to my children five trillion times, I had never seen the movie until then.
• Decided that even though I liked The Polar Express book better, being snuggled under blankets in new P.J.s with my husband and my kids made that fact an easy one to ignore.
• Wrapped gifts until 2 a.m.
• Went to CVS to get batteries and a gift card at 2:05 a.m.
• Watched the wonder of Christmas through the eyes of a four year old and a five year old.

• Thought about my mentor, Neil W. and his wife, Tamara, whose son, Matthew, was born on December 25.
• Remembered praying for Neil and Tamara to have children, and felt warm inside imagining what a difference a day (and a prayer) makes.
• Went to see the Yogi Bear movie on Christmas, which was not anywhere close to as enjoyable as The Polar Express.
• Almost cried when Zachary squealed, "This is the best Christmas EVER!"
• Wanted to go to sleep hugging the glorious red Tory Burch totebag my husband gave me for Christmas.
• Decided to go to sleep hugging my husband instead.
• Watched the wonder of snow on the ground through the eyes of a four year old and a five year old on the morning after Christmas.
• Drove in that wonder-ful snow and into Grady for post-call rounds.
• Despite having to work over the holidays, was reminded repeatedly of why I love, love, love my job.
• Received a text that my best friend had her baby--that our other best friend (Tracey, the world's greatest OB-Gyn) delivered. Sigh.
• Remembered when Tracey delivered Isaiah and Zachary -- and smiled.
• Remembered when Tracey and I were clueless medical students -- and smiled again.
• Left Grady Hospital. . . .and headed to the other hospital. . . .
• . . . .where I talked and hugged and laughed with my newly post-partum best friend about what life would be like for her as a new mommy. Married to a new daddy.
• Received a text that one of my very ill patients passed away as I was rocking my new god-son in the mother-baby unit at the other hospital.

GG and the Pooh-bear

• Left the other hospital to head back over to Grady Hospital after asking myself what my mentor, Neil W., would do with that text. (Go back to Grady.)
• Ran into my best friend's mom on the way out and wanted to cry when we talked about what life would be like for her as a new grandmommy.
• Hugged her tight and felt her joy run through me.
• Reached Grady and was surprised at how quiet it was when I walked back into the building.
• Made it all the way down the hall and to the J elevators without a single person asking me for directions or help or money. (Very unusual.)
• Stepped off of the elevator and immediately heard voices.
• Joined what looked like a tear-filled family reunion with all of my patient's loved ones.
• Hugged them all one by one.
• Thanked them for trusting our team to care for their loved one.
• Reached my patient's granddaughter last, who never left her grandmother's side for the entire hospitalization.
• Hugged her tight and felt her pain run through me.
• Quietly whispered in her ear, "Thank you for teaching me to be a better daughter and granddaughter."
• Felt her hug me tighter and told her I meant that.
• Was again stunned by the stillness of the hospital as I headed toward the exit.
• Felt the tiny snowflakes on my cheeks and the blistering cold on the walk to the parking garage.
• Sat in my frigid car for a moment. . . .taking in the wintry silence.
• Reflected on the last 48 hours of life and love full circle.
• Marveled at it all.

What a difference a day makes.

• Cried and cried. All the way home.