One Baby at a Time...

That's how I'm seeing the world. One baby at a time. When I left the Philippines and entered another season of waiting, I prayed that God would provide opportunities for me to serve His people with midwifery. A week after that, I had the privilege of attending the birth of my friends' firstborn son. Three weeks later, I was in Honduras for a birth.

December found me in Georgia with dear friends, welcoming their daughter, and January has had me working alongside a midwife in Kentucky. Has the Lord answered my prayers? You be the judge.


I received the message below from a patient in the Philippines. These are the sentiments that make my job worth it.

jan, 19 2013 ur my midwif of my child,, now my child is 2yrs old ,,thank u u are the 1 helping me in my labor,,

Laura is the other midwife in a headband.

And now, I fly again. To a new continent and a new country. To a family in Chad, who is bringing Jesus to their neighbors. To a Momma who needs a midwife for her 6th baby. The plan is that I will travel with a good friend who worked alongside me in the Philippines. We plan to visit several other teams in the country while we're there. Both Laura and I are praying about whether God would set either or both of us in a team there.

So I'm off to see another part of the world. Tour de Bebe. To see another set of prayers answered for myself, Laura, and the family to whom we are sent. 20 days from now, I will board a plane for 1.5 months of Africa. Blessed be the Lord, who fills my heart with desires, and then grants me the desires of my heart.

On My Crazy Yesterday....

Sabrina and I

My yesterday lasted 21 hours. Actually, it is still going. This is pretty common for my crazy midwife schedule. Some of the happenings within that 21+ hours, however, were not common. Not common at all. Let me tell you a bit about it.

I woke up at 11 am. Now this might seem like excessive sleep to you, unless you know that I didn't go to bed until almost 3 am. I was switching my sleep clock from day shift to night shift. I ate breakfast, made a grocery and market list, and balanced the house budget before heading off to a mandatory, organized, group learning session at the clinic.

One of my patients had been texting me all night and into the morning, showing signs of early labor. My mind was well occupied because of that and planning a visit to another patient that I'd transported the morning before. It had been a traumatic transport... a girl I really took time with, but who was not progressing normally in labor. I was going to visit her at the hospital, and I wanted company. I texted a few girls and organized the trip.

My patient smiled at me from bed 100...not the highest bed number in that single room, by a long shot. Beside her in the same bed another mother, baby, grandmother, and father sat, admiring their own new little one. 2 patients/families per bed is pretty standard in that ward. We held the baby, photographed the baby, kissed the baby, and asked questions. She expected to be discharged soon, and to leave the100+ degrees, 300+ patients, and assorted nurses and cats in the room. It was a happy ending to a story with a scary climax. We had transported her into a busy ER where we witnessed things that will not easily be processed or forgotten.

Sabrina and her momma

We prayed over the happy new family and headed out of the hospital. On our way out, a woman greeted me in the foyer. I engaged her in conversation and found that she was there with a family member who had been in a tricycad accident. I prayed over her and her family, asking God for healing, provision, and that His love would be known to them. After a quick discussion amongst ourselves, we girls decided to visit another ward to pray over some patients. We were not quite prepared for what awaited us.

As we approached the gymnasium that served as a mixed ward, a colorfully dressed older woman came up to us and asked for money. She became very angry when we told her we had nothing to give her. We asked the security guard permission, then proceeded into the gym. The first woman we prayed over was very thin and fragile. She was suffering from breathing, heart, and gastrointestinal issues. We next talked to the daughter of an old man. He had suffered a stroke or aneurism (my Visayan was not good enough to tell which) and completely unconscious. We again prayed over him, and for his family.

Isabelle pointed out another patient. A 'human form' that we could not distinguish as man, woman, or child. I don't think she could've weighed more than 40 lbs. Her body wasted from ulcers, the stomach acid had turned her teeth into mush. She coughed constantly, a thin, dry cough that took all her strength. I went to her side and asked if I could pray for her. She summoned all of her strength, and in a very quiet voice, told me her story. She has two kids, a 7 and 11 year old. She was dying. Her head turned and she spit out a few of her teeth. She continued to whisper her requests to me, and I leaned my ear to within inches of her face, trying to understand the quiet, foreign words that tumbled from her dry lips. Could I pray for her family? Her kids especially. And for healing for her body?

I took her frail hand in mine. I prayed over her, begging God for miracles. My broken Visayan, mixed with English as I poured out my heart.... our hearts. To see her healed. That God would have mercy on her family. By the end of my prayer she lay, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Our 10 minute interaction had worn her out. My heart was full... Like a sponge sodden with water, and threatened to seep from my eyes. We stood, blessed her and her family, and made our departure.

Silently, we made our way to a grassy area behind the hospital. Our hearts were too full for words, and as we sat in silence, tears spilled down our cheeks. It was all too much to take in. After a while, we prayed together and debriefed. A large, black billy goat meandered by on the grass behind us. And then we were ready to go. To find some food and, hopefully, the elements of communion. As we walked toward the exit of the hospital, the colorfully dressed woman spotted us again. She spoke harsh, hate-filled words that, although foreign, chilled our bones and unsettled our spirits. I silently prayed against those words, and against any curse or spirit behind them.

Our spirits began to lighten as we ate sticky rice, cassava cake, and RC cola from a little stand outside the hospital. The little children played shy, waving at us from behind the legs of their parents. After returning our empty RC bottles, we went to a bakery for bread, and found grape Gatorade. Lest you find me sacrilegious for thinking that  sweet bread and Gatorade could function as bread and wine, allow me to assure you of a strict dearth of grape products in the Philippines. Even my church uses grape koolaide for communion (Yes, I'm drinking the koolaide). We went back to my house and had a very sweet (no pun intended) communion together.

Night shift started slowly. I transported a labor who was too late in her pregnancy to deliver safely at Mercy. When I walked back in from my ambulance ride I was called into a cubicle to take over a labor. You cannot possibly imagine my shock when I saw who my patient's companion was... the brightly dressed woman with whom I'd had the tense encounter at the hospital earlier. My breath came in much shorter increments and I cried out to God in my heart, asking for wisdom, spiritual protection, and grace to handle whatever lay ahead. I quickly explained the situation to my supervisor in hushed tones. She confirmed that there was a spiritual darkness here.... she got a headache the instant this woman arrived. We set to work, knowing a new baby was not far off.

Melissa and I

I checked the laboring woman's progress. By normal standards she should have been 1-4 hours from giving birth. Again, not a normal day. She was from a people group who are amazing birthers. They seem to defy all anatomy and give birth quickly, exhibiting almost no pain, and NOT following any suggestions of well meaning midwives. 9 minutes later, a screaming baby girl was laid on her stomach. She told me that I would name this baby.... Also common amongst this people group. As morning dawned, I tried to decide what name I should give.

I suggested 6 or 7 different names for the darling baby girl. For some reason, the older, colorfully dressed woman kept on suggesting 'Melissa'.  Maybe God had allowed this reunion for a reason. She treated me kindly now, and smiled at me. Just before 6am, as we prepared to go off shift, the name was settled. Melissa.... My third namesake in a month. And as I wearily climbed into bed this morning, I saw God's hand in my every move or the day. I saw clearly that my entire day was crafted by God, ordained that I would share His love abroad. I saw that although I could not give financially to this woman, I could give my love.... His love to her relative, and I watched that transform an angry, dark woman into a more gentle person, soothed by His grace.

Melissa, her momma, and I

I do not know what God will do for the patients at the hospital. I do not know the fate or future of any of the people I met yesterday. But I watched God work, and I have confidence that He will complete the good thing that He has started. I feel like Peter and John in Acts 3:6 "Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk." May God's life and light flow through me to bring His glorious gospel to the Nations.

The Longest Minutes .....

 That day in prenatal clinic, when I met her, I knew she was mine. The darling 16 year old girl sitting on my prenatal bed needed to be adopted by one specific caregiver, and as I asked her questions about her health, I knew I would be the one. I gave her my number, wrote my name on her chart, and committed to taking care of her throughout her pregnancy. I would be the one by her side as she birthed her baby into the world, and I would be the one who did checkups for her and her baby in the days following birth.

Good morning!

She sent me text messages 3-4 times every day, asking how I was and wishing me a good evening/morning/afternoon/coffee break.  My heart became increasingly endeared to her throughout her pregnancy, and I prayed regularly for and with her in the weeks leading up to the birth. I prayed that she would give birth before I left on an outreach trip into the country. Then, one prenatal appointment, she told me she'd been having contractions. I felt the beautiful curve that was her belly as it tightened into another contraction. Sure enough, it seemed she was in early labor. I encouraged her to eat and drink and rest so she would have strength for The Big Event.

Sakit Kaayo, mam Melissa.

She texted me all that afternoon and evening, keeping me informed on how much it hurt, and how she was coping. I decided to try to catch a few hours of sleep before The Big Event. I slept fitfully, my phone clutched in my hand, and my dreams filled with labor and birth. I woke every few minutes and checked my phone. At 2:30 am I got the text that I should meet her at the clinic. It was time. I scrambled out of bed and into my scrubs, praying for wisdom and protection.


Click.... click.... click, click, click, click....

"Breathe Jade" I told the little mamma-to-be. Breathe for your baby. The baby's heart beat was dipping uncomfortably low as labor intensified. This last stage of labor was really difficult, but Jade was not giving up. Her young determination was a beautiful thing to witness. We prayed together for her and for her baby. She used all her strength to bring her baby into the world.

Baby out! Floppy.

As I laid the new little one on her mother's tummy, I knew all was not well with this baby. I was praying in my head as we suctioned out the lungs. "1 minute apgar score" called out the charter. The answer was 4. 4 of 10 points. Points that indicated the baby's vitality and immediate chance of survival. The supervisor called for the baby's heartbeat. Urgently I grabbed the stethoscope with my blood-covered gloves and shoved it into my ears. I started taking heart beats.


170....160.....160...180....170

I called out the heart rate every 6 seconds, praying that God would give the breath of life to this little one. 2 minutes and still no breath. Only 2 minutes, but they passed by more like hours. A mask was fitted over the baby's mouth and nose, and my co-workers pushed air into those tiny lungs.

3 minutes.... 3.5 minutes...

 And then, finally, the answer to our collective prayer was manifest in the form of a gasp and a slight cry. That first little pioneering wail was followed by several more, stronger cries. By 5 minutes after her birth, the Apgar score was 7 out of 10.

Salamat sa Ginoo!

Gratitude was all I felt as I thanked God in her native tongue. The mother and father held hands and thanked God with me as their little girl made her presence known. We all knew clearly that He had sustained this little life, and given her breath.

Those were the longest minutes.

When someone who should be breathing, wasn't. I realized yesterday just how long a minute can last. Sunshine Melody, they named her. I will continue to care for this little family in the next few weeks. I will continue to share God's love with them, and marvel in the grace He has bestowed on them in the form of this tiny, new life.

All glory be to God, the Giver of Life.

On Healing Births....

So, my last post on here was kinda sad. Let me tell ya, it hit me hard, feeling death so close. It is so contrary to what the theme of this profession really is. And yet, so in keeping with it all at the same time. It took me a few days to shake the really heavy sadness I felt following the miscarriage of my patient. A few days before it was not the only thing I could think about.

Sophie, her sweet mother, and myself

 
I asked a housemate of mine, who has been here longer and been through more, how she heals. And she told me about healing births. Sometimes, after a really tough situation, God gifts you with a really great birth, and it really helps you heal. It had been quite a while since I took my place at the end of the bed, so I was excited for my shifts last weekend, hoping....praying for my healing birth.

 

Sophie managed a little smile for me

Saturday night was exciting. I walked through the clinic door, knowing I was first in line for a baby, and hearing the words "4-5 cm head visible". Time to shift into gear. I popped my hair up, changed shoes, and within 30 seconds I was running into the cubicle, pulling gloves on. I barely got them on in time for "head out!" I worked quickly, to make sure the umbilical cord was not around the neck, and then, about a minute after I walked into the door, the baby made her grand entry. Then came the blood.
Lots of blood.
And more.
And more.
 Our team worked frantically to help the mother stop bleeding, praying in our heads, our communication fragmented; walkie-talkie style. And suddenly, it stopped and everything was fine. I cared for her through the night, but it felt more like a whirlwind than a healing birth. I thought it would probably be a while before I welcomed another baby, because shifts have been a little slower of late.

Tuesday night I prayed for wisdom and skillful hands as I prepared for shift. I was first up again, but who knew if there would be any labors. Again I was summoned to a cubicle immediately. This little mamma was exhausted at the tail end of a 29 hour labor. She was really close to giving birth, but she was really tired, and having a difficult time working with her body. It looked like it would be a while, and everyone but me left to meet for endorsements. I watched my poor, little mamma trying so hard, and making no progress. I spoke encouraging words to her, and prayed for wisdom.

Momma, Daniella and I

 At once I knew what to have her try. With her next contraction everything changed. I called for help, and within about three minutes, her squalling baby girl was in her arms. As I cared for her through the night, joy filled my heart. I knew that THIS birth would be one I'd remember. One where I'd asked God for wisdom as a midwife, and He granted it.

Me with Daniella, my healing birth

 I realized that this birth was custom made for me. My heart began to take joy again in the glorious miracle of pregnancy and birth. My spirits were lifted, and my hope, renewed. This was exactly what I had asked God for.


This was my healing birth.

On Good Neigbors and 38 Days...

I have a story for you.
This is the kind of story only God can write.
You see, I met my neighbor.
This may not seem so significant to you, but please, permit me to explain. This neighbor that I met does not live here in Wisconsin. She lives in Davao City, Philippines. Actually, she lives just a few blocks from where I will live in 38 days. So sit back and relax, and allow me to tell you the perfectly orchestrated-by-God chain of events that led us together.

It was a hot day, that Monday in June. My sister, Alisha, was working at the coffee shop, rocking out to some Christian tunes. In walks girl by the name of Liz. She had never been to this new little coffee shop, and the quaint, peaceful atmosphere drew her in. When Liz heard the Christian music playing, she wondered if her cute little barrista was a Christian. So, she struck up a conversation with her, which covered topics like homeschool, missions, and a sister who was headed to the Philippines. Liz came back to the coffee shop every day that week with different friends.

Fast forward to Friday. I rode to the coffee shop with Alisha so I could work from there. Mid-morning, Alisha came into the room where I was working, and said, "Melissa, this girl I met brought this lady here, and she's from the Philippines." So, I come out to meet her. Miracle of miracles, Joy introduces herself as a missionary teacher in Davao City, Philippines! I began to explain my plans to work with a maternity Clinic, run by a Christian couple. "Oh yes! I taught school to both of their daughters! I actually live just a few blocks from the Clinic." We both just sat there, stunned.  Even if we'd known of each others existence, we couldn't have planned such a perfect meeting. Only God.
There are so many reasons this is a miracle. Joy was only visiting Wisconsin for two weeks. This is only her second Stateside visit in eight years. Wales is a VERY small town, and Mamma D's is a new coffee shop. Davao City is a very large city. The Philippines is on the other side of the world. The office where I normally spend my days is in downtown Milwaukee. In short, I clearly see the loving hand of God in the crossing of our paths. He is so good to His children.
In other news, I leave in 38 days.
The end.

On Mother's Day...

Two weeks ago I celebrated Mother's Day in a very special way. I joined a young couple as they welcomed their first baby into the world. To become a mother on Mother's Day.... precious. What an amazing welcoming party it was! Family of two, became family of three. Husband became father, Wife... mother.
A beautiful transition that changed each person's life...Forever.
That tiny cry that told us she was here... and well.
And my eyes were filled with happy tears.
Birth is amazing. This one was filled with answered prayers... so many.
Healthy baby girl
Healthy momma, and proud daddy.
Peace, Strength, and Courage throughout.
And so much more.

I hope I never lose the wonder. I wish always to feel the awe of new birth. I hope I always tear up. Because it is such a beautiful, amazing, and miraculous experience.

The Big little Things...

I have titled this post with a complete contradiction. This is an anomaly which I often stop to ponder. Allow me to explain.

I believe my God does BIG things. He is a mountain moving, storm calming, dead raising, universe creating God. Those things, when I stop to think about them, are awesome and powerful. It is beyond my comprehension. When I try to understand God's magnitude through these things, I am forced to my knees.

Because God is BIG.

Now I also believe my God does little things. His is a soft speaking, day brightening, need meeting, desire granting God. These things, when I try to wrap my mind around them, are sometimes more difficult to understand than the BIG things. When I try to understand God, the God of the little things, through my understanding of my BIG God, I am awed by His love.

Who else has this love?

How do we understand a God who orchestrates a universe, and yet cares to hear about our bad day? I want to tell you a few stories.


Pocket Change

This is a story about a God who cares about answered prayer. I mentioned (see previous post) that I'd totaled my car recently. Well, following the accident, I asked God to allow me to at least break even with towing expenses. I knew that the tires on my car were good, and scrap prices were high, so I was pretty sure I could cover tow fees, and come out even, or a little ahead. Well, long story short, my tow company wasn't very accommodating or honest with me. So I contacted a junk yard. They agreed to pay me $245 for my totaled car. When I called the tow company, they expected to charge me $248.16. I was so thankful. I felt that $3.16 was not too bad.... pretty close to breaking even, actually.

But God was not through.

When I showed up to pay my bill and sign my title over to the junk yard, the lady calculated my bill at $242.88. Tears came to my eyes as I realized that God had SPECIFICALLY answered my prayer. I made $2.12 on the deal! But I learned so much more.

He cares enough to concern Himself with $5.28.



All My Needs


God has promised to meet All my needs according to His riches in glory. As I've been preparing for my journey to The Philippines, I've been trusting Him to do just that. One day, I posted on facebook, looking to crowdsource my research on e-readers. I was leaning toward purchasing a Kindle, but I wanted some input. Within a few hours, someone texted me and offered to GIVE me a Kindle Touch. Through this kind friend, God chose to meet my need. He knew what I needed, and put it on someones heart to meet that need. Because God cares about details.


I want to call these things The BIG little Things. It is the very little-ness of these things that makes them BIG. Because a BIG God humbled Himself enough to care about little things, and the little people they concern. It is things like this that make me so happy to give my little life to my BIG God. It is things like this that humble me, and stand as a testimony to the faithfulness of my BIG God.