So, I had a video shoot yesterday. Nothing major or difficult.
It was at the Cleveland Clinic. The main campus. No problem. Sitter was set. Makeup brushes washed.
Was not prepared for the emotion I would feel pulling up to this clinic. The one we were just at 6 months back....with our Simon. The moments I had hoped to forget.
I walked in, trying to keep my cool. All the while I had a lump in my throat. We were shooting in the same wing we stayed on. The one where I was hoping to hear from neurologists that we'd be able to get home by Mother's Day so I could wash my Mexico clothes...and just be with my baby.
The smell reminded me of my emotions and watching child after child being wheeled around....and then watching their Moms. So tired. So done.
I put on my makeup artist hat and tried to just get through it. I did, of course.
Then after the 7-hour day, I went to call for my car from valet. Watched my car pull up in front of me and I remembered that day I held Simon as they wheeled us out. I was so afraid the moment we'd get home, he'd start seizing. I slept with him for a month. Literally. I didn't sleep in my own bed....only next to him.
The time it took for the valet to bring my car seemed like an eternity. I saw a precious man wheel his father out. He lovingly took his fathers arms and placed him arms underneath and lifted his Dad into the seat. He put on his seatbelt and put back the wheel chair. He came back and seemed to check in with his Dad to make sure he was OK and drove off...
I saw so many sick children. So pale and washed out. Some looked like they had been receiving treatment. No hair and their parents seemed all too familiar with this place.
The valet FINALLY arrived and I let go. I cried hard. Cried hard for those families whose lives are surrounded by countless trips and treatments....
We always say how glad and proud we are to live in Cleveland....Home to the globally renown Cleveland Clinic but if you walk inside....the pride turns quickly to humility at what the next person is facing. Their journey is different and difficult. There are days with good news and hope...but also days like today when I saw a family huddled together over their uneaten lunch crying. Crying over something awful.
We shot a nurse in the Pediatric department who works weekends...has 3 sons....and is an all around normal girl. The part that inspired me was how much she lives for those 2 days/week when she's at work...helping little ones get well enough to go home. She spoke about purpose and her ability to see her skills at use in this job in every way: emotional, mental, physical. It made me so grateful for people in this industry who don't just care for their family (like me, most days) but strangers...and who calm scared parents and who help a little one to get a shot with a teddy bear and a popsicle. It's beautiful to see those with such gifts serving us but so humbling.
Had to share....hope this made sense. xoxo Jess
It was at the Cleveland Clinic. The main campus. No problem. Sitter was set. Makeup brushes washed.
Was not prepared for the emotion I would feel pulling up to this clinic. The one we were just at 6 months back....with our Simon. The moments I had hoped to forget.
I walked in, trying to keep my cool. All the while I had a lump in my throat. We were shooting in the same wing we stayed on. The one where I was hoping to hear from neurologists that we'd be able to get home by Mother's Day so I could wash my Mexico clothes...and just be with my baby.
The smell reminded me of my emotions and watching child after child being wheeled around....and then watching their Moms. So tired. So done.
I put on my makeup artist hat and tried to just get through it. I did, of course.
Then after the 7-hour day, I went to call for my car from valet. Watched my car pull up in front of me and I remembered that day I held Simon as they wheeled us out. I was so afraid the moment we'd get home, he'd start seizing. I slept with him for a month. Literally. I didn't sleep in my own bed....only next to him.
The time it took for the valet to bring my car seemed like an eternity. I saw a precious man wheel his father out. He lovingly took his fathers arms and placed him arms underneath and lifted his Dad into the seat. He put on his seatbelt and put back the wheel chair. He came back and seemed to check in with his Dad to make sure he was OK and drove off...
I saw so many sick children. So pale and washed out. Some looked like they had been receiving treatment. No hair and their parents seemed all too familiar with this place.
The valet FINALLY arrived and I let go. I cried hard. Cried hard for those families whose lives are surrounded by countless trips and treatments....
We always say how glad and proud we are to live in Cleveland....Home to the globally renown Cleveland Clinic but if you walk inside....the pride turns quickly to humility at what the next person is facing. Their journey is different and difficult. There are days with good news and hope...but also days like today when I saw a family huddled together over their uneaten lunch crying. Crying over something awful.
We shot a nurse in the Pediatric department who works weekends...has 3 sons....and is an all around normal girl. The part that inspired me was how much she lives for those 2 days/week when she's at work...helping little ones get well enough to go home. She spoke about purpose and her ability to see her skills at use in this job in every way: emotional, mental, physical. It made me so grateful for people in this industry who don't just care for their family (like me, most days) but strangers...and who calm scared parents and who help a little one to get a shot with a teddy bear and a popsicle. It's beautiful to see those with such gifts serving us but so humbling.
Had to share....hope this made sense. xoxo Jess
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