Hosea

Born April 22nd at 2:55pm weighing 2.8kg.
Mum was 19 and knew how to scream. Her mum was there for the delivery to support her. Not typically allowed in the hospital here to have an attendant, but the doctors allowed it if it meant calming and quieting the screaming. She was able to hold her down, but not quiet her, so before the delivery I finally figured out a way to make the screaming stop. Before a contraction I put a wad of her clothing in her mouth and told her to bite down when it hurt. Worked like a charm. I did have to cut an episiotomy to get him out, but was able to suture her pretty quickly soon after he came. Baby Hosea made his appearance and when laid on mums tummy he gave a good cry.
The most precious moment that I have experienced at the hospital here would be before Hosea's mum started to push her mum was talking her through a contraction and tenderly kissed her on the curve between cheek and nose. I will never forget that moment.

Slumdog.

Get me into the villages, get me into the slums and I am content. Life is raw there. Nothing is hidden. I like to see things exposed. See things for what they really are. Beautiful.
Pictures from last Thursday. Health care teachings in the slums.

Nireekshana.

Today instead of going to the hospital those of us that were to be in ANC and Admissions went to an AIDS clinic here in Hyderabad. It was pretty incredible. The couple that started the clinic started it in their home because they couldn't find a place that would rent them space to have the clinic to treat people with HIV/AIDS. Once the number of patients that they were treating in their home reached 700, they decided that it was time to find a new location. Now, I think 7 years later, they have 5,000 patients that they are treating and counseling through the disease. All of their supplies mainly the medications they receive are from Operation Blessing, a ministry from the 700 Club and Pat Robertson ministries. They said that they have been in partner with Operation Blessing from the beginning. All of the care that the patients are given is free.
I was really encouraged today spending time with the staff and mainly just observing how they run things. The doctors genuinely care for their patients and take time to thoroughly explain the medications that the patients are prescribed and why they are taking them. After their consultation the doctors then pray with them. It was awesome to see the level of care and standard of care so high.
In the morning, Joy and I spent time in the Children's area playing with the kids, building houses and random objects out of Lego's and blocks, colouring, etc. It was pretty fun. One of the little girls really captured my heart. So cute and just the most adorable smile.
Thursday, we will be going back to do some teachings on hand washing and basic hygiene. It should be good. I am looking forward to it and being able to have some diversity in what we do throughout the week.
After last week in the labour room and different things that I experienced, being in the hospital a couple of days less this week will actually probably be pretty helpful and will give me the chance to maybe do some processing and divert my focus to something else for just the right amount of time. To work in the hospital requires a lot of emotional investment. At least for me. It is hard to separate myself from the patients that I care for. I get so involved. It is hard not to.

A view from my window...

Choose your own Adventure Day...

Today was Adventure Day. Instead of going to the hospital like we normally do every Friday we met in the morning and prayed together seeking ways of how we can bless the city of Hyderabad. We had a couple different ideas so some people stayed back and made no-bake cookies and then delivered them to the staff at the hospital, a few people went and had lunch with some beggars on the street, two people stayed and cleaned up around the compound where we live cleaning up the mound of trash at the end of our hall, and the rest of us went to Charminar which is the most famous mosque in Hyderabad that was built sometime in the 1500s. I was one of the four people that went to Charminar. We arrived in the early afternoon, Beth and I, in one bajaj and Rachel and Louise in another. A woman immediately approached us with a child strapped to her hip who was asking for money. After fighting for the 10 Rs change the driver tried to short me I handed it to the woman and child and we were on our way. We met up with Rach and Louise and decided to start by just walking around the mosque and praying out prayers individually as they came to us. We then went into the mosque paying 100 Rs each and started the climb up one of the pillars. It was pretty amazing. We got to the top and walked around to each side of the mosque and prayed out over the city in each direction. It is crazy how a city can look so different from all four sides, four distinct views. From every view you were faced with the harsh realization that there is a vast amount of poverty in this city and in this nation; poverty that you couldn’t escape even if you tried. So how do we fix it? You can’t give money to every beggar who approaches you, it’s impossible, would leave you broke and wouldn’t solve the greater problem. At some point people have to take it upon themselves and rise up out of the poverty in which they sit. Yes, I do believe that here in India the caste system plays a role into it all, but the will of man is greater than any caste that you are born into. Isn’t it? The sad part is that I think the issue of poverty won’t ever go away. So long as the “woe is me” spirit hangs over these people, it wont ever go away no matter how much money we throw at it.
Anyways, we decided to go back after looking through to the other side of the mosque and seeing that the sky was painted black and rolls of thunder were heard in the distance. Rach and Louise went back to the Catholic guest house we are staying at and Beth and I went to buy fruit for the team at the local fruit market that we viewed from atop the mosque. We hurried our way through the stands and got what we needed, all throughout being asked for money by women in rags of clothing with the occasional child on her hip. One of the last women who asked us was the same woman who we gave the 10 Rs to when getting out of the bajaj. Beth turned to her and said something along the lines of, “this is no way for you to raise your child! Give her a better future than the one you are making for her now and send her to school. This isn’t the kind of life she deserves.” I couldn’t have agreed more and I added a few comments of my own. Another woman had come up to us asking for money and food. After purchasing some grapes I handed the child in her arms a handful. The woman grabbed two of the grapes and handed them back to me and walked away. The men at the fruit stand started laughing and saying, “she only wants your money.” What can you do other than feel grieved for the woman and more so for the innocent child that is trapped in a world with a hopeless future?
We left Charminar and headed to the hospital to see a girl Beth had cared for during the week in admissions. She is a 15-year-old girl who was seeking an abortion. No doubt in my mind she was raped and most likely by a family member, perhaps her father. Anyways, we walked into the hospital and went to admissions to check the records to see if she had been transferred to another ward and on our way down the hall Beth spotted her lying on a bed at the end of the hall. We went to her and I saw her frail and fragile body, so skinny I couldn’t believe it. Her cheeks were sunken in, but when you looked into her eyes you saw the beauty of her heart shine outwards. I grabbed some fruit out of the bags we were carrying and asked her to eat a banana because she needs it and is too skinny, of course with a smile on my face showing her that I was being facetious. Her mother quickly was at her side and we exchanged smiles and quick greetings with one another. I could instantly see where the child got her beauty. We made small conversation with the girl after introducing ourselves and she told us that the operation was finished and she would be going home the next day. I asked her if it was painful and she said, “no it was only two months.” She did complain of pain in her back and later we prayed for her and asked for healing not just physically but emotionally as well. I asked her a few questions about her desires and dreams for the future and she told us that she wants to become an engineer. I can’t help but wonder though if she will ever be given the opportunity. Are there too many odds against her? I don’t know, but I hope and pray that someone sees the potential in her that I see and she is given the chance to run after her dreams and make a bright future for herself. We got her number so that maybe before leaving we can take her out and get ice cream and have her teach us how to play cricket (her favorite sport) with her friends.
After walking away from the hospital, I had to ask myself where is the justice in that? Where is God’s justice for what has been done to this little girl? The greatest grievance is in the fact that hundreds of thousands of young girls have been, are in, or will be in the same situation she is presently in. What is that?
That’s what I like to call bullshit.

Obadiah and terminated pregnancies...

Yesterday in labour a little girl was born at 20 wks. She was a terminated pregnancy and although the nurse and doctors pronounced her dead and unable to be revived she was indeed alive breathing and having a stable heart beat. Her pulse was 76bpm, but life was still present nonetheless. The pregnancy was terminated due to signs of pre-eclampsia, but I don't think that was the real reason. Anyways, when I arrived in the labour room yesterday morning I asked of her case and was informed of the situation. She had been prepped for termination in the labour room which is routine and then usually the women are taken to another ward and the rest of the procedure is carried out there. It wasn't until Rachel our staff started to firmly tell the sea of nursing students that were there with us to part and move out of the way that I knew what was happening. The baby had delivered on its own and the nursing students were just standing not really knowing what to do or how to respond. I left the woman I was monitoring and quickly followed after Rach to assist her. She tore the membranes open and baby Alice Mariah took her first breath. We instantly started praying over her and expressing how beautiful and perfect she was. She was created in the image of God. After she was separated from her mum, I took her to the baby room weighed her (450g) and then immediately put her under oxygen. The staff constantly were expressing to us why bother fighting for the life, because she wasn't going to survive anyways. We (Lindsay and I) expressed to the nursing students that no matter what they are taught one of the most important things to remember is to value life and to give the best care to each and every patient, even when others say its a waste of time or there is no use. One of the nurses came in and asked, "Is she dead? Why are you giving oxygen? She wont live." I responded, "Yes maybe so, but she is alive now." She turned out the door and was laughing. I heard her talking to the other nurses in the hall in Hindi and laughing. I got pretty furious and although I should have remained where I was I went out after her asking why she was laughing. A dying baby is nothing to laugh about and I thought they should try to remember why they got into the profession they are in in the first place. The nurse was shocked, probably because I was out of line and addressing someone who was of higher authority than me, but she quickly tried to cover her actions and apologized saying she wasn't laughing at us. Anyways, I returned and Lindsay and I continued to express that the baby was alive and needed to be transferred. About a half an hour later she was tranferred to NICU. She wasn't expected to live more than a couple hours, but Lindsay and I walked away from the situation satisfied with how we handled the situation. We did the best we could for her and gave her the love and care she deserved. It hopefully showed the staff of the hospital a higher standard of care that each and everyone of their patients deserves no matter what the prognosis. While caring for her and giving her oxygen she grasped my finger. It was so precious I had Lindsay take a picture of her little hand. We took footprints to remember her as well. They are so tiny, but so perfect.
Today, I did a delivery that was a case of IUD, but within the woman's chart was a signed consent form of pregnancy termination. The baby had supposedly died on the 11th and in order to induce labour the form had to be signed. Anyways, the baby came breech at 26 weeks with hydrocephalus. It was a hard delivery, but I got through it. I have an incredible team and the women on my school who were with me today in the labour room were incredibly supportive and encouraging. The head was difficult to deliver so two doctors had to assist me in the delivery. He finally came, but before he delivered I got the name Obadiah, which means God's worker. He weighed 1.25kgs and delivered at 11am. Precious in the site of Jesus. To be sensitive towards that infant and his family I did not take a photograph with him, but I did take footprints and hand prints from him so that I had something to remember him by. They are pretty beautiful.

Lindsay and Rachel

On April 11th, two beautiful girls were introduced to this world. The first, Lindsay was delivered by the DMO working in the labour ward with us that day at 12:22pm weighing 2.8kgs and the second, Rachel was delivered by myself at 12:35 weighing 2.5kgs. They were beautiful. They were transferred shortly after their birth to NICU due to some issues with both of their right legs. Lindsay seemed to have something resembling talipes and Rachel had a hyperextension of her leg. I made sure to pray acceptance of both the little girls by their families, because they truely are precious and deserve all the love of their parents.