what to do with it

I’m horrible at being a researcher.

I’m not actually horrible; I listen well during interviews and ask follow up questions and pay attention and write detailed field notes and, when I don’t procrastinate, I can transcribe an interview like nobody’s business.

But when I’m on the wards with the child life health workers, in the middle of rounding on patients, taking it all in and gleaning valuable information for field observations, and suddenly there’s a child in front of me, lying alone on a bed, and the nurse is telling me the child’s guardian has abandoned her, I’m not going to be a researcher, I’m not going to be an objective observer. I’m going to stop everything to sit down on the bed, pull the child into my arms, and stay with her until the doctors have rounded on her and social work has visited and I’m approved to take her into the Pediatric Center. And then I’m going to leave my observation site, the wards, and I’m going to go change the diaper that hasn’t been changed in days, and I’m going to remove the tattered and soiled clothes, and I’m going to wash her clean with the first bath she’s had in days, and I’m going to give her fresh clothes and warm milk and wrap her against my chest until she falls asleep. And then I’m going to sit with her all day.

Being a full-bodied, all out, life-fulfilled researcher just really isn’t in my capacity. I’m horrible at it. I’m not an objective observer and I don’t want to be.

And yet at the same time, I’ve loved researching this summer. Being able to sit down and just listen to so many people, to hear their stories through this work and how they sustain their hearts through this work and their definitions of compassion through this work has been so enriching and beautiful. I am learning so much.

I’m not learning what I expected to learn and I’m not learning about some obvious academic concept or anthropological theory and I’m not even sure I’m learning what is needed to make some sort of point for some sort of senior thesis. But I am learning about the human spirit, about love, about wrapping children in your arms and living through pain and joy simultaneously, because that’s what exists.

I’ve loved researching and yet I’m horrible at it. I’m not an objective observer and I don’t want to be. When the child is in front of me, I’m going to pull them into my arms.

Maybe this is me saying there are days like today when you’ve walked out of your observation site and you realize you don’t know how to be an objective observer. Maybe this is me saying that there are days like today when you’ve listened to a child scream in fear until you sing her to sleep and all you do know to do is to hold the terrified little girl against your heart.

Or maybe this is me saying that there are days like today when you get to the end of it and you just don’t know what to do with it all.