I had no idea I was pregnant. It wasn't planned or expected. What a way to find out - the nurse announcing loudly to you and your husband in a room crowded with patients that they will not give you an X-Ray because your pregnancy test was positive... Wow! What ever happened to patient confidentiality???
So the news of this baby came as a shock to us. But already we love this small person. Already we want to shower this new life with our love and care. Already we are imagining who this person will be and how he or she will fit into our family. Already we are terrified because of the terrible trauma that this baby's mama just experienced.
I have been struggling with the question of whether or not to announce this pregnancy. We have no idea how far along I am because I was taking birth control shots that are "effective" for three month intervals. The ultrasound was inconclusive for determining gestational age. It is still so early in the pregnancy - most people don't share such news until much later... But this situation is complicated. We need prayers for this baby - and so we share our journey with you all.
We need prayers for my health, for this child's health, and for all of the difficult steps that lay ahead as we walk down the path of healing. So I lay myself open to share with you all whatever future is in store for us. My hope is that this pregnancy will go smoothly and at the end of it all we will share the joy of a precious new baby.
How fortunate I am to have the option of seeking good medical care. I am left to remember all of the terrible stories of mothers losing their babies or babies losing their mothers, when medical intervention could have made all of the difference.
In 2013 I spent many nights at the main hospital here in Mwanza - one of our boys was attacked and stabbed, his life hung on the line numerous times... and we waited in the hospital for endless hours holding vigil - praying for his life to be spared. On three separate visits I encountered the same repeated story - a mother somewhere had given birth and then proceeded to hemorrhage uncontrollably. In each incident there was a female relative clutching the newborn infant with a look of terror plastered on her face. In each story there was a dying mother somewhere in the depths of the hospital who would be left to bleed on the cot where she lay until enough money had exchanged hands and the doctors sufficiently convinced to do their job. In each story a dying mother would be transferred from her cot to the morgue and a new infant would struggle through the next days of life without milk and with little hope of survival. In one of those stories I had the opportunity to intervene and advocate for the infant. The baby's grandmother clutched her day-old granddaughter to her breast in shock - the cries of the baby filled the room in desperation and hunger. The baby had not had any milk since birth and was in misery. I held my own fat 4-month old child in my arms and was overcome with emotion... perhaps it was the hormones, perhaps just the call of humanity and love. My heart broke with each cry from that infant. I had pumped an extra bottle of milk and it lay unused in my bag... It seemed against all sanitary logic or sense, but I took that bottle and pressed it into the hand of the grandma.. "this is my milk that I pumped for my baby, I can always just nurse my baby so please take this milk to give your granddaughter". I can't imagine ever accepting some stranger's milk to give to my child... but i knew I was healthy and the grandma didn't think anything strange in my offer. The baby gulped down the 4 ounces immediately. We then proceeded to figure out how to keep feeding this hungry child. We went to the hospital pharmacy to see if they had any formula - no luck. We went to the maternity ward to see if they had any formula or any way to provide care for this infant - no luck... they wouldn't even think of helping the baby without a hefty bribe and even then they didn't have any milk to offer. What type of hospital was this - the major hospital of our entire region - the hospital responsible for serving millions of people... and not a drop of milk for a hungry infant? Finally we left the hospital and found a duka where we could purchase a bottle and a few jars of formula - the baby would at least have a full belly for a few days while the family figured out what to do next.
Time and again this story plays out. Time and again pregnant women die in their homes while giving birth, or worse yet they die in the hospitals while "receiving medical care". When it came time for me to deliver our son Joseph, Paul and I made the decision to go to the capital city, Dar es Salaam. Bugando, our major local hospital is a place "you wait in line to die". We didn't anticipate any complications but knew that we wanted to be in a place that really had doctors, not just in name but in ability. A few days after our arrival in Dar I went into labor - well, my water broke.. but I never had any contractions. The doctors didn't know what was happening but realized the baby was in distress. Upon performing a last minute ultrasound they discovered our son was in breech position. I needed an emergency C-Section. As I lay on the operating table preparing to receive the anesthetic the electricity went out. I remember thinking "I am going to die...". Eventually the backup generator turned on and my surgery was performed without complication. Our baby Joseph was indeed in distress. The umbilical cord had wrapped around his neck three times and he was struggling. Once freed into the world he cried and screamed and his little lungs filled with air. We both made it! Paul and I are convinced that had we stayed back home and gone to the local hospital, Joseph and I would probably not still be here on this earth.
How devastating for those mamas who don't have the money, the resources, the luxury of traveling to a competent hospital. I am no better than those millions of women who struggle without any medical care. I am no different than the poor mother in her village hut who just wants to have healthy babies. I mourn beside them in their struggle, but I am so thankful that I have options for myself and my family.
So here we are embarking on a new journey of motherhood. There is an unnamed child growing within me, and that baby means the world to us. We don't know what is in store, and we only pray to have the strength to face each day and each challenge as it comes.
So the news of this baby came as a shock to us. But already we love this small person. Already we want to shower this new life with our love and care. Already we are imagining who this person will be and how he or she will fit into our family. Already we are terrified because of the terrible trauma that this baby's mama just experienced.
I have been struggling with the question of whether or not to announce this pregnancy. We have no idea how far along I am because I was taking birth control shots that are "effective" for three month intervals. The ultrasound was inconclusive for determining gestational age. It is still so early in the pregnancy - most people don't share such news until much later... But this situation is complicated. We need prayers for this baby - and so we share our journey with you all.
We need prayers for my health, for this child's health, and for all of the difficult steps that lay ahead as we walk down the path of healing. So I lay myself open to share with you all whatever future is in store for us. My hope is that this pregnancy will go smoothly and at the end of it all we will share the joy of a precious new baby.
How fortunate I am to have the option of seeking good medical care. I am left to remember all of the terrible stories of mothers losing their babies or babies losing their mothers, when medical intervention could have made all of the difference.
In 2013 I spent many nights at the main hospital here in Mwanza - one of our boys was attacked and stabbed, his life hung on the line numerous times... and we waited in the hospital for endless hours holding vigil - praying for his life to be spared. On three separate visits I encountered the same repeated story - a mother somewhere had given birth and then proceeded to hemorrhage uncontrollably. In each incident there was a female relative clutching the newborn infant with a look of terror plastered on her face. In each story there was a dying mother somewhere in the depths of the hospital who would be left to bleed on the cot where she lay until enough money had exchanged hands and the doctors sufficiently convinced to do their job. In each story a dying mother would be transferred from her cot to the morgue and a new infant would struggle through the next days of life without milk and with little hope of survival. In one of those stories I had the opportunity to intervene and advocate for the infant. The baby's grandmother clutched her day-old granddaughter to her breast in shock - the cries of the baby filled the room in desperation and hunger. The baby had not had any milk since birth and was in misery. I held my own fat 4-month old child in my arms and was overcome with emotion... perhaps it was the hormones, perhaps just the call of humanity and love. My heart broke with each cry from that infant. I had pumped an extra bottle of milk and it lay unused in my bag... It seemed against all sanitary logic or sense, but I took that bottle and pressed it into the hand of the grandma.. "this is my milk that I pumped for my baby, I can always just nurse my baby so please take this milk to give your granddaughter". I can't imagine ever accepting some stranger's milk to give to my child... but i knew I was healthy and the grandma didn't think anything strange in my offer. The baby gulped down the 4 ounces immediately. We then proceeded to figure out how to keep feeding this hungry child. We went to the hospital pharmacy to see if they had any formula - no luck. We went to the maternity ward to see if they had any formula or any way to provide care for this infant - no luck... they wouldn't even think of helping the baby without a hefty bribe and even then they didn't have any milk to offer. What type of hospital was this - the major hospital of our entire region - the hospital responsible for serving millions of people... and not a drop of milk for a hungry infant? Finally we left the hospital and found a duka where we could purchase a bottle and a few jars of formula - the baby would at least have a full belly for a few days while the family figured out what to do next.
Time and again this story plays out. Time and again pregnant women die in their homes while giving birth, or worse yet they die in the hospitals while "receiving medical care". When it came time for me to deliver our son Joseph, Paul and I made the decision to go to the capital city, Dar es Salaam. Bugando, our major local hospital is a place "you wait in line to die". We didn't anticipate any complications but knew that we wanted to be in a place that really had doctors, not just in name but in ability. A few days after our arrival in Dar I went into labor - well, my water broke.. but I never had any contractions. The doctors didn't know what was happening but realized the baby was in distress. Upon performing a last minute ultrasound they discovered our son was in breech position. I needed an emergency C-Section. As I lay on the operating table preparing to receive the anesthetic the electricity went out. I remember thinking "I am going to die...". Eventually the backup generator turned on and my surgery was performed without complication. Our baby Joseph was indeed in distress. The umbilical cord had wrapped around his neck three times and he was struggling. Once freed into the world he cried and screamed and his little lungs filled with air. We both made it! Paul and I are convinced that had we stayed back home and gone to the local hospital, Joseph and I would probably not still be here on this earth.
How devastating for those mamas who don't have the money, the resources, the luxury of traveling to a competent hospital. I am no better than those millions of women who struggle without any medical care. I am no different than the poor mother in her village hut who just wants to have healthy babies. I mourn beside them in their struggle, but I am so thankful that I have options for myself and my family.
So here we are embarking on a new journey of motherhood. There is an unnamed child growing within me, and that baby means the world to us. We don't know what is in store, and we only pray to have the strength to face each day and each challenge as it comes.
Thanks for sharing Lorien. I had the same feeling as I left on a plane for Nairobi less than a week ago, knowing I just said goodbye to a friend with backpain only to go and get my own treated. It feels so unfair and it's difficult to reconcile within. Yet God sent me to thesew people and I am no use if I cannot move so I push on and hope to return soon and pray that someone's heart will be touched to come and work in the mountains of the Lopit people and give them the medical care they need. Much love!
ReplyDeleteOur world is certainly not "fair"... But there is something to be said for understanding pain so that we can sympathize even more with those we are called to serve. Even when we can't "fix them" I have found that comforting the sick, mourning, wounded... is just as important a ministry. Bless you dear sister!
DeleteThese words of witness from your blog and Marlene van Tonder's comment are so important for those of us who take superb health care in the West for granted. I appreciate so much your transparency about the mixed emotions you experience realizing that you still have so much more medical care access than the brothers and sisters you serve.
ReplyDeleteThis is so sad. I have had three hospital births and three home births. It sounds like to me that whoever is helping to deliver these babies, where mothers are hemorraging, is pulling on the umbilical cord to try and deliver the placenta too soon. This is a huge mistake and the medical personnel need to be better educated. The placenta will release on its own from the uterus when it is ready to be delivered.
ReplyDeleteAlso, what a blessing it would be if a free milk bank could be set up where nursing moms would donate their breastmilk to help these starving newborn babies. My heart aches for these precious mothers and babies. God bless you for your servants heart.
Many women give birth at home, and many give birth at local clinics where the healthcare providers are poorly trained. I have worked with some amazing midwives who are exceptional at what they do... unfortunately there are also many people trying to do medical work without any training. This is a land of healthcare crises, and we only hope to navigate through it all with grace! I love the idea of the milk bank! That would make a HUGE difference!!
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