I had a friend in high school who would always say, "That's pretty!" But before you could respond, he'd tack on, "Pretty ugly!" He thought it was hilarious.
Ah, but perhaps there lies within that lame joke, an iota of truth. It was far too easy for me to romanticize the entire labor and delivery scene based on what I'd watched on T.V.. My friends could tell horror tales of their own deliveries all they wanted but they were holding the sweetest, cutest, most delicious smelling baby in their arms. How bad could it be?!
Oh and, there's serving as a missionary in a third world country. Boy, has that been blown WAY out of proportion and glorified juuuuuuuuuust a little bit. Bleh.
Well here's me telling you that it can be "pretty ugly!"
This may not be necessary and it's certainly not helpful but I feel the need to unburden myself and share some of the ugly things I've encountered while working in the ward. Buckle up and bear with me because there's a point to all of this.
I hope you're not eating your breakfast because here it is. Poop. Wow. Sorry, but it needed to be said. Until I started working in the ward, I didn't realize just in what terrific quantity it would be in. It really is astounding.
Word to the wise: Don't swing a bed pan like you're out for a Sunday stroll. You'll splatter an innocent bystander with your pee. Just sayin'. Once upon a time, I was that bystander.
Last weekend, I was filling a cup of water from a cloudy trickle in the "tea room" when a giant, GIANT rat jumped up from where he had been hiding in with the cups. I mean, this guy was the stuff nightmares are made of. (I could pause here to discuss just how revolting it was that he had been hiding in with the dishes but that would take too much time.)
I stifled a scream.
He looked at me and then ran into a huge hole in the wall right next to the sink I was using and there he stayed with his big, nasty tail still hanging out like he was mocking me.
I've had amniotic fluid run off the bed and down the front of my clothes. That was startling.
Frequently, there is no water in the ward which means no flushing toilet - the one toilet that is shared by all the staff. I leave your imagination to paint that picture for you.
I've seen some very advanced cases of STD's and tuberculosis.
I've stepped in all manner of bodily fluids and tracked them throughout the ward. What's crazy is that all the mamas are barefoot and walking in all of that too.
I'm sure I don't need to tell you about the blood but I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that there's blood on EVERY surface in the ward. There's blood on the ceiling. I have no clue how it got there. And there's usually some freaky looking blood clots in the bathroom that all the mamas share.
There are huge holes in the walls where cockroaches come and go at their leisure.
I cannot lie to you and tell you that I am unaffected by these things. Thankfully, I'm blessed with an unsympathetic gag reflex but even the steely-stomached can't come away unscathed.
I will close with this. It is possible to see, smell, talk about (in this context alone) and potentially touch all of the afore-mentioned things and still be a classy lady. And these mamas need such a lady to be willing to see, smell and potentially touch these things so that they can focus during that difficult contraction, feel that they are capable of such hard work, and believe that they are valued and worth the support and encouragement. It has been a pleasure observing such women at work around me.
Frankly, there are needs like this all over the world though. There are people in the yuckiest and most inconvenient places that need someone who is willing to look past it all and see them.
So put on your gloves, your face shield, your galoshes, your hazmat suit - whatever - and get out there! I guarantee that in your efforts to be a blessing, your heart will be humbled and you'll end up having your socks blessed clean off!
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