These are Anthony and Kumassah. My roommate Meg took these pictures of the most beautiful babies I have ever seen. I got to play with them all weekend. I am in love. Before I left for Africa, I used to joke that I was really only coming here to play with little black babies. Turns out, some dreams come true.
I pride myself on being unique. I like it when someone says I am weird. I think it is the weirdness that makes people special and interesting and exciting. That being said, I try to avoid embracing concepts and thought processes that are overused and cliched. Phrases like "everything happens for a reason", though potentially very true, have a very vague meaning in my head. But tonight, as I have been working my fourth night shift in a row, in "B" ward of the Africa Mercy, I have a hard time denying that everything does in fact happen for a very specific reason.
"B" ward has officially become the baby-ward. As of tonight, there are 5 babies for me to love on, and play with, and take care of. Apparently, this is not normal for the wards here. Our patient population is normally much older. We do take lots of pediatric patients, but rarely, if ever are there babies. Let alone 5. I was hired as a pediatric ward nurse, and even that scarred me a little. I came here with the understanding that, although I would be used as a peds nurse if necessary, I may never get to take care of a child. Our patient load here is 100% dependant upon the people who show up to screening, and how their needs coincide with the surgeons we have on board at the time. That means we get what we get, and we have to be able to take care of anyone, with any myriad of clinical issues. I had come to terms with that. But, more than anything, I like playing with babies.
I have a lot of theories (side note: most of which are based on little-to-no fact, yet I choose to believe whole-heartedly). Some of them relate to important things like how people turn out in life is strongly influenced by the messages that are conveyed to them in childhood. Most of them are more ridiculous. I believe that not eating enough bananas gives you Charlie Horse's, and that my poor hand-eye coordination is a direct result of my missing the critical skill development period because of dance competitions, and that if Tim McGraw had met me first, he would have chosen me. Despite convincing evidence to prove otherwise, I think deep down I really want to believe that Santa Clause really does exist, because that would be amazing! And I believe that I understand babies. I feel like I know what they want when they cry, and that I am able to comfort them with better than average skills. I know everybody likes babies, but, I have this theory that I get babies.
So then, what are the chances that the first month I spend working as a nurse in Africa is the same month that all the babies show up? I said to one of my fellow nurse's the other day "I was wondering what my purpose was in coming here. All of a sudden it makes sense". Obviously, caring for babies wasn't the only reason God probably wanted me here. I like to believe that I have a wide variety of skills and attributes and love to share with the people here. But also, I know a lot about babies. I have mentioned before how one of my challenges, not only here, but in general, as a nurse is feeling competent. For this season in the baby ward on the Africa Mercy, I instead feel confident. I potentially have knowledge and skills relating to this population that no one else here has. Considering that, I can't dispute that coming here, at this time, did in fact, happen for a reason.
I just had an fantastic weekend. I offered something to some amazing children that was unique and that not many other people could have offered. But overall, I know I got the good end of the deal. When you make a baby laugh or hold him to your chest or rock him to sleep, you feel blessed. Blessed to have made his day a little nicer. Blessed to be a part of his world. Blessed to be a part of a world where little miracles exist.