Night Life

Perhaps this is some kind of initiation. A rite of passage. Perhaps they want to see what I’m made of. Or perhaps someone just totally overlooked me when they made the schedule. Or maybe I was just crazy for telling the nursing directors that I would be happy to work nights. 

But in a fourteen day period, I work eleven twelve hour night shifts. 

Twelve hours is a loose term. Sometimes it turns into fourteen when you have four deliveries back to back at shift change. 

I’m right in the middle of this stretch - eight shifts down and four to go - which is why I am awake at this ungodly hour in the middle of the night even on my day off. Because why try to switch over when you just worked three nights in a row, have one night off, and then work three more? 

Sorry, I sound like I’m complaining. And when it is 9:00am in the morning after working fourteen hours with a thirty minute lunch break, and all I can think about is my bed but instead I have to ride my bike home with one hand on the handle bar and the other on my leg to keep the wind from blowing my skirt up, and I hit thick sand and my bike comes to a swerving halt and I do all I can to not fall over in my zombie like sleep state...I do complain. 

But despite all my complaining, I really do like working nights, and it definitely has its perks. 

Like getting to welcome women when they come to the maternity in labor in the middle of the night. Like tucking women and their newborn babies in bed and doing what I can to help them get a good night sleep. Like getting to know my coworkers better and hearing their stories. (2am the morning after having a baby isn’t the best time to strike up conversation with your patients, but it’s makes a great time to talk to my African colleagues!) Like night off like this when the world is quiet and I have no one but Jesus to keep me company. 

The truth of the matter is, here at the hospital, we are undergoing a nursing shortage and yet people just keep having babies...especially in the middle of the night, and somebody has to be there to take care of them. In addition, the Hospital of Hope is providing quality medical care in rural west Africa. So people want to come here. It’s a first choice hospital. And then when the government hospital workers strike, everyone comes here anyway. 

That’s why we’ve had a record number of deliveries and I’ve had a record number of night shifts. 

But it’s not just the quality care that draws people to this hospital, and here is where the hand of God really proves powerful. There was this one pediatric patient who stayed at the hospital a day after he was discharged because his father wanted him to be prayed over again before he left. “This hospital has the power of God,” the Muslim Father said. So not only was he prayed for, but our amazing team of chaplains shared the gospel with him and he ended up professing faith in Christ. 

So despite these two weeks of long night shifts that make me feel like I’m in some sort of college rush week Africa version, I’m going to stop complaining and start being just really, really thankful. 

Thankful to be doing what I love - delivering babies and learning how to better care for moms and their infants in a gracious learning environment. 

Thankful to be a part of a hard-working, Christ-honoring team. Thankful to meet so many amazing people whose hearts are set on serving God and loving his people. 

Thankful to be awake in the watches of the night to meet a need and serve the people of this community. 

Thankful for small opportunities to encourage Christian brothers and sisters and plant seeds for those who don’t yet know him. 

Thankful to be a part of something bigger. 

For if my working here helps keep this hospital open so that people can keep coming to experience the power of God and to hear the gospel, then I’ll work eleven more night shifts in a row.