She clenched the sheets as another contraction hugged her pregnant belly. Her body tense, she was not very responsive to our coaching. There was something more going on. The pain etched on her face was not just physical pain. It was always there. The result of a deep, deep wound nobody should have to feel.
As another contraction tightened its grip on her beautiful rounded belly, she turned her head, fighting the pain.Suddenly I understood... No husband, only a friend... so much fear. The desire for physical comfort as her fingers dug deeply into my hand, yet the fear of physical contact and exposure as she resisted the midwife's attempts to check her progress. As she was engulfed in the tide that was the next contraction, the far-away look returned to her eyes and the pain distorted her young, beautiful face. She grabbed my forearms and buried her face in my lap, almost crawling into my lap to be held and comforted. I murmured the few Visayan words I knew, mixed with English. "Pray for me!" she begged.... and I gladly complied, shocked at what I now understood.
It was the deeds of darkness, now brought to light. The things nobody should have to experience, and this beautiful young woman was giving birth to the fruits of those deeds. I wanted to feel her pain with her... to take it away. But I couldn't. These are the people God is choosing to love through me. They are the reason I'm here. And that face filled with fear and pain.... It is the face of more than just that dear little buntis. It is the face of so many woman here. 97% to be precise. This, my friends, is the tragic truth.
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