On Hearts Day....

It was a beautiful Monday morning in Davao City. I rode my bike to the clinic FAST... I had to make up for the few extra minutes of bonding time I'd shared with my pillow that morning. My shift was clinic and there were about 68 woman waiting for their first prenatal that morning. The women were in the next room having devotions and orientation while my co-workers and I started filing out their information on charts. Anabelle P... "Hey Annabelle!" I called to one of my co-workers, "Here's another Anabelle. Maybe you'll be her midwife." But that didn't end up being the plan.

The word 'midwife' means 'with woman'. Traditionally, we think of a midwife as the one who is with a woman during birth... One who helps to guide her baby into the world. Historically, however, midwives were intricately involved with almost all woman's health issues. Literally from birth to death. They were with the woman, offering advice, wisdom, and health support throughout her life. This is what I'm learning to do.

As I picked up the next chart from the stack, I scanned the faces of the women waiting in the room. "Anabelle?" I was tentative, not knowing who I was calling. She stood, beaming at me. "Ako si Melissa" I introduced myself. Her first baby, and she was 26... same as me. She had a bunch of questions, and I did my best to answer them. I reciprocated with my own list of questions. When I suggested that she try to drink a glass of water every hour throughout her pregnancy, she was super eager. "Oh yes mom, I will just set the alarm on my cell phone every hour!" My heart was just joyful as I noticed how happy she was about this baby within her.

I asked Anabelle  to lie down on the prenatal bed so I could check her baby's heartbeat. Strangely, I could not find it. I grabbed another Doppler, hoping that I just had a bad battery..... Still nothing. An emotion that lives next door to dread began to close it's hand around my heart. I asked my supervisor to check... I hopped so much that maybe it was just lack of experience on my part. Nope, there was still no heartbeat. After a positive pregnancy test confirmed that she was, indeed pregnant, we sent her for an ultrasound. Maybe she was just not quite as far along as she thought. My heart was finding ways to hope. When she returned with her ultrasound, I told her, she should ask for me.

Thursday started a lot like many other days. I slept late, following a late night, then I headed down to the clinic to learn about herbs that can be helpful when pregnant. Afterwards, I grabbed my bike, intending to take my computer in or repairs. When I ducked under the doorway of the clinic and excused my way through the group standing just outside, I heard my name called. There she was, my smiling little Anabelle and her husband, ultrasound results in hand. It took me a second to place her face, and as I did, I took the results from her and opened them, not thinking. The words glared at me:
                                EARLY FETAL DEMISE
 Angry, horrible, devastating words. "Ma'am Melissa, I don't know what it means." By now my hands are tingling as if they are asleep. I've never felt a dread so physical before. My mind is racing now, as I try to calm myself. I suggest we go into the clinic to talk. Back through the group of people still standing in front of the door and down the long hall.

 "God, I don't know how to tell her this.... God help me. God help her. Oh God! What do I do?! How do I tell a woman I hear only her heartbeat, when I should hear two? How do I give her this information that will destroy her dreams and break her heart? God help me!"

I wanted to find a private place to tell her. To be with her. To help her cope. To midwife for her. Every cubicle was full. I wanted to just take her in my arms. I didn't want to tell her. I stalled, making notes in her chart, photocopying the ultrasound results.... praying all the while. Feeling increasingly desperate, and choking back my own tears. Finally I sad down next to her.
"Here it goes"
"So Anabelle, these ultrasound results... the news is not so good....."
She looks at me, searching my face.
"It says that your baby has died already, inside of you."
"Ma'am, why? Is it normal?" She is trying to understand what one can never fully understand.
"No" I say, "It is not normal. It is normal for babies to live and be born healthy. But it is common." I explain to her how as many as 1/3 of pregnancies end in miscarriage. But she's halfway through her pregnancy so it seems so much harder now.

The supervisor explained to her what she now must do. Anabelle was brave, asking questions, keeping that smile frozen on her face. I asked her if I could pray for her before she left. She was so thankful for the offer. She had to walk through a hallway filled with new babies and new mothers to leave the clinic. A devastating reminder of what was not to be hers. I left the clinic soon after she did, and caught up with her on the road.
"Anabelle."
She turned from telling her husband the news, and gave me her brave smile. But she was sniffing now, the kind of sniffling that comes from tears that have been blinked back. I was sniffling too. I gave her my number, and told her to text if she needs to talk, or if she ever needs anything. I gave her a hug and told her that I was sad with her. "Maybe it is not yet my time to have a baby. At least I  know now." she said. I tried to force a brave smile, but failed miserably. Then I turned and walked away, tears now freely running down my face.

It was 'Hearts Day' here in the Philippines. Everywhere I went, people kept wishing me a Happy Hearts Day. I could think of at least two hearts that were not happy at all. Two hearts that were grieving this loss. I marveled at how we could hurt so, over a little person we'd never met. How our hearts would forever hold the memory of this precious little one who never breathed a breath.

At how two hearts would never be the same, because one little heart would never beat again.