Bereavement Photography Gives Consolation Following Perinatal Loss

From the time of my earliest memories, I have always loved photographs. Even as a small child, I’d peer carefully at old photos of relatives I’d never know, noting clothing styles, home furnishings, the family farm—taking in the entire scene, whatever it was.

It is, I suppose, a natural progression that I moved from that early infatuation to creating, with my husband, lasting photographic memories for the clients of our photography business. Our business is primarily one of wedding photography, but we also photograph families in their homes or beautiful park-like settings, capturing the closeness, tenderness and love the family members share.

But, not all photographic sessions are happy occasions. The memories preserved at the sad times, however, are no less valuable to a family.

A few years back, Laurie Van Damme, a labor and delivery nurse in Florida (read her story at www.nurseconnect.com soon), recognized the benefit to grieving families, who were experiencing a perinatal loss, of having photographs of themselves with the baby who had not survived. Van Damme’s mantra is, “Grief is not about forgetting, but remembering.”

The grieving families do not always meet the idea with acceptance. Nurses explain that the opportunity, once missed, cannot be regained. In cases where families still refuse, they’re informed that a few photos will be taken of the baby alone for the hospital’s files. With only one exception, those families have contacted the hospital later to ask for the photos, desperate for memories of the child they lost and had little or no time with.

One father, who was opposed to the idea initially, said that viewing the DVD with his baby’s photographs has helped his family with the grieving process. He stated that his resistance to the idea had more to do with his being so consumed by grief that he was not thinking clearly, than for any other reason.

My daughter is expecting her first child. When I told her the story of the Healing Hearts project, she immediately suggested that the idea should be gently and briefly introduced in prenatal classes, presented in its most basic form and emphasizing the benefits. Her reasoning is that grief is not in the picture at that time and the thinking of those hearing the message isn’t clouded by overwhelming emotions. The seed of the idea would be planted, considered and tucked away, with the hope it would never be needed but not foreign should it ever be.

My daughter is right about finding a target audience in prenatal classes, but would the idea of presenting there ever fly with instructors or expectant couples? Most participants are first-time parents who may already be nervous enough about the entire pregnancy and birth process. Would broaching a sorrowful possibility in class cause more problems than it would cure?

Perinatal loss often occurs before the time a couple begins prenatal classes, so what is the answer for reaching those who experience a loss prior to that time? Bereavement photography is a relatively new and not widespread approach to grief support. More publicity for the concept in newspapers, magazines and community health forums is certainly needed, but is there a place for it in prenatal classes?

If you have experience or opinions regarding any facet of this subject, please share your thoughts.

Forced Overtime Outlawed in Pennsylvania

As of July 2009, hospitals in Pennsylvania will no longer be permitted to require health care workers to work beyond the end of their shifts. Signed into law by Governor Ed Rendell, the measure is aimed at patient safety, the premise being that patients are endangered by overtired personnel who are more likely to make medical errors.

Additionally, the law protects workers who refuse to work overtime from discrimination or reprimands by their employers. Nor can the health facility use on-call time to fill staffing gaps.

I’m not a fan of forced overtime and some of my opposition could certainly be labeled as selfish. Frankly, there is life outside the hospital and I make plans for my free time. Those plans could be anything from attending a child’s school function to celebrating my mother’s birthday, from keeping an appointment with my doctor to shopping for groceries. A few of those things cannot be canceled on short notice without causing inconvenience or disappointment.

I recall a situation early in my nursing career that was not safe for my patients or for me. I’d had an ordinary day taking care of chores and errands before beginning my 3-11 shift in the ER. Late in the shift, perhaps around 10:30 p.m., a nursing supervisor showed up to ask me to work the 11-7 shift in ICU. Doing so would mean that at the end of the second shift I would’ve had no sleep for 24 hours, and I was expecting out-of-town visitors at 10 a.m. the next morning, which I explained to the supervisor.

All these years later, I cannot recall the exact conversation, but suffice it to say that she was persistent and, under pressure, I didn’t have the fortitude to say no. As an aside, were we trained back then to always be compliant and not buck the system or was I just that big a wimp? I do wonder.

The supervisor won the battle, such as it was, and I worked another eight hours in ICU. Beginning at around 2 a.m., I moved into a zombie phase, going through the motions, anything but alert—in ICU, of all places! At least I wasn’t the only nurse on duty.

The flip side to no forced overtime and tired nurses is inadequate staffing and nurses stretched to the limit. The obvious solution is that hospitals should hire more nurses—but nurses are in short supply. So, what’s a hospital to do? This is a conundrum and I wish I had all the answers but, alas, I don’t have even one.

Does your job include mandatory overtime? How do you feel about it and deal with it? How can it be eliminated?

Recruiting of Nurses Includes Lavish Enticements

Wow, how times have changed! The stiff competition among hospitals and other health care entities to attract a share of the short supply of nurses has resulted in a spate of creative recruiting tactics.

Employers are pulling out all the stops and rolling out the red carpet—-really rolling out the red carpet—-in an effort to persuade nurses to sign on with them. Among the enticements seen at hiring events are free champagne, chair massages, catered gourmet food and chances to win prizes the likes of flat-screen TVs, $1,000 shopping sprees and GPS devices.

The Michigan company that welcomed prospective applicants with a walk on the red carpet also held a trivia contest (hosted by game show pro Chuck Woolery, no less) and awarded prizes that included a year-long lease of a 2009 SUV, restaurant dinners and hotel stays. A hospital in a Milwaukee suburb gave $50 gas cards to experienced nurses just for interviewing—-no signing on the dotted line required.

A reminder of just what a dinosaur I am in this profession is the recollection of my job search in the early seventies (I told you I’m a dinosaur). A job transfer took us to Memphis, Tennessee, the site of the University of Tennessee Medical School. It was in the days before satellite hospitals and all of the several large, progressive hospitals were clustered in the area around the med school. Landing a job in that city would surely be as easy as shooting fish in a barrel, I thought. Wrong.

In town on a short house-hunting trip prior to our move, I set aside one day (one day?) for the job search. Instead of the plethora of offers to choose from that I’d imagined, my trek from hospital to hospital resulted not in job offers but in several, “Ho-hum, so you’re applying for a job? Fill out this application and leave it on the desk” responses. By the end of the day I did have a job and it was just what I was looking for, but it was the only offer I had. In fact, it was the only interview I had—not one of the other hospitals called. No red carpet, no TV, no recruiters elbowing one another out of the way to woo me into their fold. In contrast to today’s employment climate, the hospital—not the nurse—held the power.

Now the nurses have the upper hand, but I’m left to wonder what happens once the nurses are lured into the web of employment. Will the red carpet be pulled from beneath their feet, will mandatory overtime leave no time to enjoy the TV, will understaffing leave them so fatigued that the GPS goes unused because they are too tired to go anywhere but to bed?

Query to recruiters and hospitals: what are you going to do to make those nurses feel valued after the deal is sealed?