Labour and delivery is never black and white and to that mystery, add the unknowns of a third-world labour ward. Who will I see? What will I do? What will I step in? But I have learned to recognize some tell-tale signs of a busy ward, long before I walk through the doors. The way the building is designed, the windows in the ward open right out onto the breezy, outdoor corridor. Thankfully these windows are small and close to the ceiling preventing people from looking in and being scarred for life.
(It should be noted that I did actually see a small child peering through the window one day. Someone had hoisted him up to look in, I assume for his mother. A midwife hollered and the little face disappeared. On another occasion, the spouse of a laboring woman was making little calls to her through the window until she went out into the corridor and told him to stop.)
As I was walking past these windows last weekend, I could hear the sounds of labour and new babies, and when I rounded the corner, the benches were full of waiting family members. A full day lay ahead of me!
My doula friend and I had just left our bags in the back room when we passed bed seven, the last in the ward, tucked away in a corner and hidden by a small partition. When I peeked through I saw that it had two occupants - a sleeping mama and her nursing infant. Because both were lying directly on the plastic mattress, I couldn't help but notice the growing pool of blood around the mother's body. I went straight over to a midwife and told her what I'd seen. She rushed over, gasped, and called for a doctor. They started three lines and did a sweep that produced some retained placental tissue and a blood clot the size of another placenta. I was proud of how quickly the staff worked to help her. She could have bled to death if they hadn't been so efficient. Not three hours later, the mama was standing and preparing to bathe. Amazing.
A preeclamptic mother delivered with much difficulty. It was her first and she got frustrated, so she pushed too soon and tore internally. In addition, the baby's head swelled making the already tight space, even tighter. When it came time to actually push, it was twice as difficult. Mama managed well and delivered a healthy baby boy, much to everyone's relief.
One of our sweet midwifes went into labour herself! It was strange seeing her as a patient in all the familiar places. She wore a countenance of such joy and peace, even after being told her baby was in distress and she needed a c-section. We visited for awhile between my dashing off to check on other women. She talked to me like a friend which was such a gift. She told me everything about her labour thus far. We even visited about two other midwives - mutual friends that I haven't seen in awhile.
All seven beds were full so women were sitting in chairs, laying on the floor, and pacing the back hallway. One mother had been parked on the floor just outside the bathroom. People just stepped around her to go in and out. She hadn't made any noise and with so many others, she had gone unnoticed. That was until she told us that she felt like pushing. Thankfully, a bed had just been freed up so I hoisted her up and helped her into it. It was perfect timing because no sooner had she gotten settled, that her baby's head began to appear - just as quickly as the midwife disappeared! With such a full ward, I think she got distracted and wandered off! I asked my friend to go get her but we couldn't wait because the baby was crowning. I started in and was finishing delivering the baby's head when the midwife reappeared, but instead of taking over, she leaned against the wall and let me do it all! I delivered the baby, cut the cord, delivered the placenta, and checked for tears. Wow. Where else would I be allowed such freedom?? I signed my name as the delivery...um, person (as I do not have an official title) and began the cleanup.
I know I've said this before but I have to say it again. It's an incredible experience to be so intimately involved in the entrance of new life. I realize that the mother didn't really have a say in who delivered her baby. I was the only other person around when the time came. However, there's an element of trust given when a mama is in such a vulnerable place. That is sobering. I pray my pride never gets in the way of making wise choices on behalf of these women. I pray for a teachable heart and wisdom to know when to step in and when to step away. That's a tough line when I'm the guest, yet there is so much to be done.
Mother and baby were healthy and resting when I moved away to help with another labour. When I returned to get a picture of the two of them, they were gone; moved to the postnatal ward. On another day, I would have gone looking for them but this day there was too much to do and I didn't want to leave. So I'm savoring my joy and laughing over the picture of the baby's placenta - the only two things I have to remind me of this wonderful day!
P.S. Oscar lives on. Despite midwife rumors that he was poisoned with the rest of his family, I saw him in the tea room, fatter and more shameless than ever. After all, rats have no scruples.
No comments:
Post a Comment