Continuity.... Continued

Continued.
 

So, after my first weekend of continuity patients and my mid-week birthday celebration and catch, my schedule was full of baby checks. I figured, since both of my other patients had almost two weeks until their due dates, that I'd buckle down and get some learning done. But babies are really surprising creatures, and they tend to come at the most unpredictable and unexpected times.

 Complicated.

After a late night with a heartbroken friend on Friday, I expected to sleep in on Saturday. Carl Wesley (pictured above) had another idea. He was planning to show up before his mother expected him, and before his daddy could get off work.

Unexpected.

At about 9 am I got a text. Ma'am, the pains have started. I really think this is labor. That's the rough translation. Since Carl Wesley is Rosalie's fourth baby, I decided that it would behoove me to believe her. I packed up a bag, and continued to text Rosalie as I prepared some lunch and dinner. I figured it would be best to be prepared, as I had night shift Saturday, and I might be at the clinic for a LOOOOOONG time.

Hurried.

Rosalie showed up at the clinic, and it was pretty obvious there wouldn't be much time before we met baby. I put on gloves and assessed her. She wasn't quite ready, but her body was in a hurry. With the next contraction, her bag of waters broke, and the following contraction resulted in the birth of a screaming baby boy. All of the sudden, he was here, and the rush and hurry was over. About two hours later I biked home at warp speed to get in a quick shower before my night shift started in 20 minutes. A long night full of a beautiful family. And they named him for a friend of mine.


Surprised.

That's how I felt the next evening when I got another text from the clinic. Melissa, your patient is here, and she's active. I asked if I might get a ride, but they told me to hop on my bike and ride like mad. I arrived at the clinic just minutes before the birth of this little girl, Joylyn. I had taken her momma as my patient because she was so young, and so lost seeming. Yet even in my wildest imaginations I couldn't have guessed her whole story.






Grieved.

My heart was broken as more and more of the story unfolded. At just 14 years old my patient had become pregnant. Just a child herself. Worse, the father of the baby was 46.... and married. A series of poor choices, and several lives forever changed. A little girl, confused about her identity, choosing a lesbian lifestyle. A drunken evening. A fight. An 'understanding' neighbor man. And at the end of those choices, she was pregnant. Scared of the father of her baby.... and rightly so.

Crying.

It's what I felt like doing every time I walked into her room. Every time the father of the baby asked me creepy questions, and touched his daughter. Every time the mother of my patient looked at me with worried eyes and tried to understand what had happened to her little girl. It's what I did that night when I got home, and the next few days after every checkup.There are no words, no scalding, salt-water drops, no heaving sobs that could express the sort of heaviness and pain.

Amazed.

This describes me as I held Joylyn about 2 hours after she was born. She looked at me, and she was so alert. Suddenly, I wanted to protect her from all the ugly her life may hold. I told her how she will serve the Lord. I told her how it doesn't matter that she was conceived in rape, or that her father is dishonorable. It doesn't matter that her mother is still a child. It doesn't matter what her life may hold, all she is belongs to God. I spoke over her that she will be a strong woman of God, a prayer warrior, and a testimony of His grace. As I spoke, she just stared at me like in these two pictures. As though she UNDERSTOOD. And there was rest in my soul.

Tired.

It's how I felt after my whirlwind 8 days in which 4 babies were born into my waiting hands, 5 women were coached through labor, and countless hours were spent at the clinic. It's how I felt when I thought about the world and how many tragic stories it contains. It's how I felt when I curled into my bed in the wee hours of Monday morning. Tired, Fulfilled, Sad, Happy, Peaceful, and finally.... Relaxed.

(Pictures of Joylyn's mamma will not be posted due to the sensitive nature of her story. I would, however, love if you will continue to join me in prayer for her dear little heart.)

On My Birthday...

One night, not long ago, it was the-night-before-the-night-before my birthday. As in.... two nights before my birthday. Well, that's the night it was. And this is how I spent it. I mixed up some flour, cocoa, coffee, and a bunch of other stuff that's not nearly as interesting. Then I put it in the oven. After all that, I put some frosting and chocolate chips (which I bought in States and have been hoarding) and some coffee beans on top. In the end, it looked just like that picture on the right. The reason for this, is that the picture on the right is actually a picture of the results of my labor. Like... Tastie!

Now the reason that I spent the-night-before-the-night-before my birthday baking, is that I had a party planned for the DAY before my birthday. Parties are rather fun, and I take great delight in planning them. So mocha cupcakes and Coke were on the menu. I invited all the Filipino staff, and prepared for a large turnout.






  First though, I had to teach a room full of women about fetal development in another language, and do about 11 prenatals in Visayan while explaining the whole thing to my shadow in English. This requires quite a bit of vocal stamina, mental flexibility, and a good sense of humor. Thankfully, all were in stock. The invigorating anticipation of my party supplied all the essential elements.

My party started out slowly. As in, there were two girls and myself. However before long, and in very classic Filipino timing, my Hair-Accessories-Making-Party/Lesson was in full swing. I had a full range of ages, and a representation from both genders... who knew? So in a flurry of hot glue, scissors, and sparkles, all my dear, dear Filipino friends began creating their unique versions of beauty.

My heart just swelled with happiness as I watched so many friends enjoy themselves. We chattered in mixed languages, giggles and exclamations accenting the musical flow from time to time. I just fluttered around like a regular.... something winged and energetic.... and gave instruction and opinions everywhere. These people were BRILLIANT! Super creative and wonderful.

So obviously, after a party like that, I was totally bubbly and overwhelmed with happiness. I just couldn't get over how GOOOOOOD my life was, and I had no clue how my actual birthday could top the beautiful day I had. But guess what? Well, just wait for me to finish my story, ok?

So... Now I'll tell you about my birthday. Like the ACTUAL day I was born, except 27 years later. First I woke up. That's how I start most of my days around here. Then lots of girls who live in my house told me "Happy Birthday, Melissa!". "Thank You" I replied. I think that's a pretty boring response, but it's also pretty classic, so I figured I couldn't go wrong with it.

After that, I walked to class with one of my housemates. When I walked in, I was startled to hear a lot of voices that were simultaneously saying the same word. That word was, "Surprise!" Which is exactly what I felt. Because there, in the middle of the table, was a bunch of really yummy desserts, and some soda and stuff. So while we learned all about genetic screening, we stuffed our pretty faces with delights such as pound cake, Chai cookies, cookie dough dip, and donuts.

Following the party, I had swing shift. I have this super cool housemate named Nancy. She has the gift of sarcasm, but also, she is really cool in a lot of other ways. She knew I wanted to catch a birthday baby, so she let me take the patient that was  already admitted. But the really great thing, is that God rewarded her generosity, and we BOTH ended up catching a baby on my birthday. My baby was a girl, so I gave her this headband I made, which matched the scrub top I was wearing (which I also made). And wouldn't you know, but the partying wasn't even over at this point. Wanna know why?

Well the reason has to do with the fact that Nancy is not the only really cool girl I live with. I actually live with 9 really cool girls. So all of them baked me this cake, and brought dinner and a present and this cake to the clinic while I was on shift. They also blew bubbles at me, and threw balloons at me. That was pretty special, because I never before had a birthday party where people came and threw balloons at me. Plus also, the bubbles.

So in the end, My birthday kinda lasted for TWO full days. It might be a bit extravagant, but I guess you only turn 27 in the Philippines once, right? As the day was ending, Nancy and I got our picture taken together. Her baby boy wore a shnazzy bow tie that we'd designed. So it was kinda a fun photo shoot. Except for the one thing, which was that my baby kinda cried. But I guess you could probably deduce that from the picture.

The end.

On Continuity...

Continuity.

It's a word used to describe the type of care we give to some of our patients.Sometimes we adopt certain patients and really give them all their care. Some are because we need the experience, and some we adopt because they need us. We come in for every prenatal visit, and we spend weeks glued to our cell phones, just waiting to hear that they're in labor. And the last 8 days have been rather... well....

Crazy.
 
They told me I was when I took 4 continuity patients in the middle of September. But either I needed them, or they needed me. Maybe both.  And although their due dates spanned 19 days, they all gave birth within 8. I'll have to tell you the stories over the course of 2 posts, because it'll get rather long. First, let me tell you about Claire, the cute little girl in the picture above. 

 

Long.

That's how her labor was.... really, really long.  She had a good attitude, and we spent a lot of time walking, swaying, and sitting on an exercise ball. Finally, after 12 hours of hard work on both of our parts, she had to be transported. Her body was just not progressing as quickly as it needed to, and she was now outside of the normal time limits for giving birth. The hospital was now a better option for her, as they could handle out-of-normal births.




Sad. 

The feeling rushed over me as I prepared papers for transport. As I crawled into bed around 4 am, I prayed that God would watch over her and her baby.  I slept deeply, only to wake up to a text at 11am. "Maam, my panubigan is out na. I think paglabor ko".

Upset.

Because her bag of waters had already ruptured, she was on a 12 hour timeline to give birth at our clinic.  Since she hadn't texted me right away, we only had 6 of those hours left. For a first baby, that's pretty fast. I knew her chances of getting transported were pretty high. Just 8 hours after my last patient as transported, I was prepared to feel devastated. But the shift was busy. Crazy busy. And one of the babies was born with some of its organs in the umbilical cord. Like the one in the illustration here. My supervisor let the mother kiss the baby, then she and I jumped into the ambulance within seconds of the birth and rushed her to the hospital, praying for all we were worth. She hung on for 4 days and one surgery, but she's gone now, leaving her family with a gaping wound.
Determined.

Both of us were. I rushed back into the clinic and my patient was still there, dancing with her husband. Slow dancing. He turned on music for them. Tenderly, he swept the hair back off her forehead and kissed her gently, murmuring in her ear. I recall the day she came into prenatals and giggled as she smoothed out a paper on the bed next to where I was writing. Her marriage certificate. "This past July, ma'am." She was shy, but so happy. And I knew I just LOVED her!

Loving.


It was the feeling in the cubicle. Between her husband, the other midwives and I, the woman was well cared for.  The supervisor gave her more grace with the time than expected. Her husband held her, pushed with her, and encouraged her after every contraction. We told her she could, and then a look of confidence would come over her face, and she would try again. And as her baby was born, the whole room erupted in praise to God, congratulations, and cheering. The baby took a bit to start crying, and again, cheers as the first sweet cries were heard. The dad held his cell phone up to let the caller hear the baby.

Intense.

That's how  the whole shift was. Intensely happy, intensely sad, intensely fearful, intensely loving. It was intensely busy, intensely tiring. And all in all, it was intensely wonderful.

I Have Decided...

 In the absence of inspiration, I have decided to re-post something I wrote about three years ago.

I Have Decided

I have decided. I will not be dissuaded.
I have determined. I will not look back.
My path is set, my course, established.
...and yet, I know not what it is.

This I know.
God is good. His ways are good.
God knows the end from the beginning.
He has determined my course.

I know I'm walking a road of death.
But this death leads to life.
The death of me results in the life of Christ.

I know I'm choosing a life of pain.
Because I'm seeking the Healer,
Not the approval of man.

I know my path is that of rejection.
Because I've been accepted.
And they rejected Him.

I understand that I will be hated.
Because I am loved.
And I will love in return.

I know I've chosen to give up my dreams,
In order to fulfill my dream.
To know and be known of Him.

And yet, I've decided.
I've said "yes!"
My life is no longer my own.

I take you, Jesus, to be my King.
Whether in life or in death,
For richer or for poorer,
In sickness or in health,
For better...
Even when worse is the temporary result.
Because death will not part us.
It will be our wedding day.

 Ephesians 5:27 That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.

Philippians 3:7 But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ.
   8Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ,
   9And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith:
   10That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death;

Not Every Day....

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain tears.
For others
For myself.
Not all tears are bad.
But sometimes.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain disappointment.
With others.
With myself.
And disappointment can crush.
Even resilient hearts.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain goodbyes.
To others.
To myself.
Goodbyes are necessary.
Hellos are better.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain mistakes.
Of others.
Of myself.
Mistakes can change lives forever.
Even innocent ones.

Not every day is a good day.
Some days are.
For others.
For myself.
Good days should be cherished.
Especially on bad days.

How Can I Explain....

How can I explain....

I gently lay my hands on a full rounded belly, trying to ascertain the position of the little one inside. In response to my touch, the baby kicks. It's like a conversation with a miniature person I have not yet seen, and who has no power of speech. My eyes meet the eyes of the mother lying before me, and we share a sweet smile.

How can I explain....

I look through the chart. Her 'Risk Status' tells me that she has already been with multiple partners. Her Gram Stain results tell me that one of them has left her a nasty infection, and her doctor referral tells me she's been treated. I look at her. She tells me that she still has symptoms, in spite of her treatments, and that this pregnancy is uncomfortable for her. And she's 15 years old.

How can I explain....

I place the fetoscope on the belly of another young mommy and it sounds like there's more than one heartbeat. My hand rests lightly on her belly, beside the bell of my fetoscope and I feel it too. Then I come to realize... I'm hearing and feeling the hiccups of the itsy bitsy human inside.

How can I explain....

 I greet a tiny mommy, not even 5 feet tall. She doesn't look as young as the others, yet I gasp when I read that this is her 11th pregnancy. Her beautiful tummy does not even exhibit stretch marks. I could've believed this was her first baby. And it seems the whole family lives off an income of $5 per day.


How can I explain....

 I glance around the room filled with 60 pregnant women, listening as their voices combine in a praise song. Beautiful, Filipina voices singing in their native tongue. Singing songs they've learned in this place I work. This place that exists for the very purpose of bringing others to sing with us in honor of our God.

How can I explain....

I cannot help but love every moment of my life. How can I explain it? These amazing experiences all happened within the space of one day, and yet every day holds these sorts of emotionally charged occurrences. And try as I might, I really cannot explain it. I cannot explain the intensity of joy and sadness in this life I live. And through it all, the intensity of my wonder at the greatness of the God I love.

I Believe in Purgatory....

....I've been there.
Yes, and I am there. My life consists of two worlds, and presently I'm in limbo between them, sleeping on airport floors in multiple Asian nations (one at a time, of course). I'm at the mercy of the 'powers that be' who decide whether such-and-such a flight is full enough to fly.
The trouble is, I cannot get out.
 And as I sit here, waiting for the last leg of my journey, the layover time increases and an extra flight is added to our travel plan. I feel like just a few good deeds and a few prayers would get me out... Just like purgatory. And maybe if I'm really, really good, I'll finally make it to my home.
Home.... I cannot wait.