People

I work in an industry that cares. If you work with and for people, it should be a prerequisite (although sometimes it isn't, admittedly...)

It sounds so fluffy, so pleasant, so very, very granola-eating-knit-your-own-knickers-from-yoghurt-sing-whalesong-and-menstruation-as-artform a sort of thing.

Which is, of course, a pile of shit.

This week has proved that. One of my clients lost a baby this week. Not through neglect or abuse, but a very run-of-the-mill small but tragic accident, with devastating impact.

I know my professional boundaries and consistently work within them; I am aware of and adher to policy and procedure; my paperwork and documentation exceeds the standards laid down by The Care Commission; I undergo routine emotional processing as determined in my support and supervision agreement; I fulfil my obligation to participate in scheduled continuing professional development...(-the language of the caring industry is very formal and cold, isn't it?)

Regardless of the language of the sector, the simple fact that the child of someone who I have known for a considerable time has died hurts on the simplest, most basic, most human level. It's part of my job to deal with this, to support the bereaved parents (as far as I can within my remit) and move on.

Sometimes working within an industry that cares, sucks.