Tag Archives: nursing

1987 Lamaze class babies

Labor Day

I met baby Anaya during a Zoom liturgy yesterday. Eight days old, the dark-haired, sleeping newborn rushed a swell of nostalgia.

Throughout my nursing career, there were two days each year when attending births bore special significance. July 20—my birthday and the anniversary of Neil Armstrong’s historic walk on the moon—and Labor Day.

A pair of other dates grew in magnitude, too. August 4—Eric’s birthday—and then Colin’s birthday on July 8. I will never forget the bolt of realization as I followed our Lamaze teacher into OB one summer evening in 1987. I’m not giving this tour, I’m on this tour. That night, I looked around the birthing room with a new perspective.

Lamaze reunion 1987
Matthew, Nicholas, Heavenly, Kyle, Adam, Ty, Amanda, Eric, Allison, and Jared

I have a wealth of joyful memories from the years I spent teaching Lamaze classes, parenting, and caring for both pregnant women and new moms and their babies.

reading picture books 1992
Colin, Karen, and Eric 1992
Andrew, Karen, and Melissa July 23, 2005
Andrew, Karen, and Melissa July 23, 2005

Now, we are in the midst of a global pandemic. Face-to-face childbirth education classes have been suspended. In addition, hospitals have adopted zero-visitor protocols to protect against exposure to COVID-19. Obstetrics units, like my old stomping grounds at Community Medical Center, generally allow laboring and postpartum mothers to have one support person with them throughout their stay.

On this Labor Day, I extend birthday wishes to Rachel Grace, born twenty-six years ago to my former coworker Mary. And to Mary and all healthcare workers, thank you for the vital work you do.

Thanks, too, to union representatives who fight for workers and communities and for a better life for all. According to a recent Gallup poll, 65 percent of Americans approve of labor unions, the highest percentage since 2003.

Lastly, thank you to my parents. Born and raised in Butte, Montana, they taught me so much, including the rich history and importance of unions. Though my dad traded his plumber’s toolbox for a briefcase in 1964, he maintained his membership in the United Association of Plumbers and Pipefitters until he died in 2017.

Dan Antonietti. My dad. My hero.
Dan Antonietti

My mom’s tales of her student nurse and RN days sparked my interest in her profession. And when I became a nursing student and was tasked to assist in a childbirth education class, she was the instructor.

Kay Antonietti, my sweet mom
Kay Antonietti

At eighty-nine, she still gets a twinkle in her eye when she regales me with her stories.

Wildflowers, Birdsong, and Missing My Mom

Montana is three weeks into Phase One reopening amidst COVID-19. During our previous shelter-in-place order, outdoor exercise was acceptable while we adhered to social distancing guidelines and limited groups to ten or less.  In our state dubbed “Big Sky Country,” access to public lands abounds.

Yesterday, inspired by a friend’s Facebook photo posted days earlier, I drove ten miles from home to Mount Jumbo. A plethora of vehicles filled the small parking area and lined both sides of Lincoln Hills Drive. I eased into an empty spot, then crossed to the trailhead. Arrowleaf balsamroot blanketed the hillside, and birdsong filled the air.

The North Loop Trail, new to me, extended right and left. I turned right. Then, at a T-intersection, I left the wide, logging-road grade for a narrower, steeper path—the Woods Gulch – Sheep Mountain Trail. Considering the number of cars and trucks parked below, I encountered far fewer people during my eighty-minute meandering than I expected.

A lone hiker and dog bypassed me as I stopped to take photos. Along the way, I met two more solitary hikers, three groups of mountain bikers, three parties of hikers, and three more dogs. An abundance of wildflowers and spring growth peppered the mountain. I’m grateful for the family of four and later, a group of friends, that schooled me on arnica, shooting stars, larkspur, a ballhead waterleaf, and prairie stars.

Shooting stars wildflowers on Mount Jumbo.
Shooting stars
Arnica
Arnica
Ballhead waterleaf on Mount Jumbo
Ballhead waterleaf

I stood more than six feet away and secured my mask while we chatted. A blue surgical mask, it was one I’d worn to a cesarean birth years ago. Occasionally, I’d bring my used masks and disposable, bouffant caps home and add them to the dress-up clothes. I had no idea those old masks would be reused as personal protective equipment—PPE—years later.

On the fortieth anniversary of Mount St. Helens eruption, I’m reminded of quarantine and masks.  As a practicing RN, I was deemed an essential worker, though I don’t recall if that was the term used to give me permission to leave my home and traverse our ash-covered city. The restrictions were short-lived in 1980, unlike the path we’re navigating today.

Our trajectory through the COVID-19 pandemic is fluid as new data unfolds. My mom, a resident of a senior living community one hundred twenty miles away, has been quarantined since March 14th. I applaud the care to keep her and her cohorts safe, but I miss her. Until our state reaches Phase Three of the reopening plan though, quarantine for such communities will continue. So I savor daily phone calls with Mom and look forward to the day we can be together again.

Karen Buley and her mom, Kay Antonietti, at 2020 Montana Women's March.
Mom and I at 2020 Montana Women’s March

In the meantime, I’ll practice social distancing, wear a mask in public, and relish the beauty and birdsong around me.

A New Anthology

Women’s voices matter. I am proud to announce the inclusion of my essay, “Childbirth 1977,” in Inside and Out: Women’s Truths, Women’s Stories.

Seventy-six voices, garnered from 2009 to 2016, weave a rich collection of witnessing, connecting, remembering, waking, recognizing, acting, nurturing, and growing. “These true tales, our sisters’ voices, link us and can lead us forward,” writes Susan F. Schoch, editor.

Susan Witting Albert adds, “But while these stories are grounded in the daily realities of individual lives, they tell us a communal story. . . . At SCN [Story Circle Network], we say that every woman has a hundred stories to tell, and they are all true.”

I am about to witness my first birth. I am twenty; my patient and her husband are eighteen.                 “Childbirth 1977”

Humbled and honored to be part of the tapestry of SCN’s latest book.

A Shout-out to Books, Libraries, and Dolly Parton

More than two years have passed since I left hospital nursing. The words I penned in my farewell note to my obstetrics colleagues, some of whom I’d worked alongside for nearly twenty-two years, were bittersweet. I’m replacing the magic of birth with the magic of books.

Since then, I haven’t looked back. I now have the pleasure of working with two exceptional teacher-librarians at Hellgate High School.

Teacher-librarian Julie Burckhard assists Evan with a scan
Teacher-librarian Julie Burckhard assists Evan with a scan

English teacher Jean Croxton collaborates with teacher-librarian Shaun Gant.
English teacher Jean Croxton collaborates with teacher-librarian Shaun Gant

Daily, I’m touched by interactions with students and staff. Students’ impassioned “you have to read this!” recommendations have introduced me to books I would not have chosen on my own. I’ve had occasion to suggest books as well, not only the gut-wrenching, realistic fiction I gravitate toward, but other genres too. Along the way, some students have confided heartbreaking experiences of their own.

Others have shared their interests and aspirations. Months ago I asked a student her last name in order to loan her a book. I’d remembered her first name, but had to clear out some of the nursing stuff in my memory bank to make room for more names, I explained.

“You were a nurse?” she said, not waiting for a response. “Was it worth it? I want to be a nurse.”

“It was.” We chatted about nursing as we walked to the stacks, to a collection of stories by nurses.

Hellgate High School stacks
Hellgate High School stacks

Nurses on the Run: Why They Come, Why They Stay
Nurses on the Run: Why They Come, Why They Stay

Flipping through the pages of my book she said, “I’ll have to read this,” then told me she’d read it later. As we returned to the front, she said again, “I want to be a nurse. I want to do something important.”

I told her that was great, that we need more nurses. I told her I’d been at hundreds of births, which had been important, “but sharing books is important, too.”

She shot me a quizzical look, unconvinced.

I’ve seen her several times since, and she’s borrowed a number of books. She hasn’t read my nursing book yet, but I hope she will. And if she does choose to become a nurse, I know she’ll be an asset to the profession.

She, and others, continue to affirm my conviction that libraries and books are two of our most precious resources. Thanks to United Way of Missoula  County and Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library, the youngest among us—from birth to age five—may now begin building libraries of their own.

“Dolly grew up in abject poverty in Tennessee, as many of you know, but she always believed the world of books opened up life for her.” United Way of Missoula County CEO Susan Hay Patrick

Dolly Parton is a believer. I am too. We know that magic happens. In books. In libraries. And in life.