I’m fascinated by the way the world works sometimes. We as people tend to get obsessed with our own lives and the way we exist—or don’t exist—within them. We tend to fixate on situations and how they could play out, how they should play out, and we tend to forget that no matter how hard we wish or pray for one outcome, sometimes all the wanting is for naught and you get the exact opposite end result. We don’t like it, and it probably really screws up our plans, but we brush ourselves off and we move forward, cause that’s what life is about. And then we find out, sooner or later, that the end result was the best possible outcome after all. Go figure.
You’ve all been along on this ride with us. How long now have I been bitching about a room with a view? Exactly three weeks. Three weeks of desperately wanting that spot in 44. I’d made it such a mission to get into that spot in the back room that I chose to ignore a number of flaws:
- the room is tiny. Seriously, tiny. As many as six or even eight babies in an area the size of a large living room.
- the nurses are more inexperienced than I’m used to. I frustrate easily. This wouldn’t go well.
- the Smugs are there. Not a flaw, really. But I didn’t really want to have to make nice with someone who I felt was only pretending to make nice with me. And I realized that we don’t really have friends back there, other than Chub’s boyfriend. Everyone else we know in passing, at best.
- the room is tiny. With many people in an out. Nyana likes quiet times.
Moving into our private room was the best thing ever. For one day, I loved that room #4 they moved us to. All by ourselves, no other babies beeping, no other families gawking. I took the day off on Wednesday to bake some panettone, and by the time Don called me on his way home that night, Nyana had already been evicted from her private suite.
She had been upgraded to a room with a view. For real.
The entire nursery consists of five or six smaller nurseries joined by nurse’s stations, parent’s lounges, private meeting rooms. The only space at all with a view is one private room in the south nursery, the room Nyana now lives in. It has a window with blinds we can close, or can open to take in the view of a small grassy courtyard and the grey winter sky. I didn’t even know it existed when I started pining over “a room with a view”, but I can’t help but giggle that a common phrase that I used metaphorically delivered itself to me in the most literal sense.
You’d think I’d end this here and bring it back around to the beginning notion that I’m fascinated by the world. I would end here, but the story doesn’t end here yet.
We were cuddling with Nyana this afternoon—Grandma had her in her lap today because now that she’s off the ventilator she can have cuddles with folks other than her parents—when the mother of the boy we call Nyana’s boyfriend came by to say hello. Well, actually, she said, “Hello, neighbour.” In a random string of events, two days after we moved into our suite in the Fairmont NICU, our friends from 44 moved in right next door. And our room with a view is actually a room with two views: on the wall opposite the window to the outside world, is a window to the room next door. Tomorrow we plan to introduce Nyana and her boyfriend formally.
Merry Christmas to all of our readers and a heartfelt thanks to every single one of you for being such an amazing cheering squad for our little family during these past three months. We’re slowly inching towards the finish line and are so proud to bring you along for every minute of the adventure. Wishing you all a safe and joyous holiday and many dreams come true in 2011.