This week began with Christmas festivities. It was hard to be away from home, and hard to be away from my dear family. However, despite the sickness for home that at points overwhelmed me, I had a wonderful Christmas here with my dear sisters and brother. Teegan (from Canada), organized a beautiful tree in which we each took three pieces and decorated them. When we had finished decorating our pieces we put them all together to form a beautifully amazing Christmas tree. Christmas Eve was spent eating pizza, and opening our “main presents”, to honor our Europeans as they open presents on the 24th. We had carols by candle light led by Becca (from PA), Anne (from Germany), and Mattias (from Sweden) read the Christmas story. Michaela (from Canada) and Eve (from Australia) got heaps of amazing Indian treats for us to enjoy, and chai. It was a wonderful Christmas Eve, also because I got to talk to my mom, the birthday girl, for over an hour.
The next day we woke up at a wonderful hour, had coffee, and opened our stockings, as that is a North American tradition. At noon we went to a hotel, and ate the most amazing meal I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve been craving a huge, hearty, tasty salad for six months and I finally got it, and SUSHI! As well as the most amazing deserts I’ve ever seen in my life. Chocolate covered strawberries, and REAL coffee, with REAL milk! Not instant Nescafe, with powdered milk. After we finished eating we rolled ourselves out to the pool, and swam for a while. A short while mind you, as the water was like ice, and our food wouldn’t fully digest until 4 pm the next day.

The day after Christmas was spent at a Fort, some parts built as far back as the 1500’s. It was huge, and had some really breath taking views. I wish I could communicate what happens in side of me when I see green trees, bush, and water. From the top of the fort, you could see all of these things, scattered about old, rock ruins. There is something so freeing about being outside of the city. It was really nice.


Then on the 27th, we went for our tour of the hospital we’ll be working at for the next six months. I was really nervous that morning, as I would be seeing a small glimpse of the rest of my life, but as soon as we arrived, I was filled with great excitement. The hospital is a massive government hospital, devoted to all things maternity. We walked around, looking at all of the different wards, being overwhelmed by the amount of patients, and family overtaking the grounds. Last year the hospital delivered 18,000 babies… in one year. They said some nights could have up to 100 deliveries. I stood there, dumbfounded. Only a few hours there, and I was so excited to begin working.

Good thing for me, we started the next day. I was put in the septic/ post natal ward. The septic ward is for HIV patients, whom they refer to as “zed patients” for the sake of privacy. We got to labour with a nineteen year old, which was really great. We walked around the post natal ward taking the woman’s temperatures, and admiring the brand new babies. There were two women to a bed, crowded, and conditions which would probably break your heart. It was the first day, and just a taste of hospital life.

Then yesterday I got a huge, heaping helping of the hospital, and it was all I could do to survive the day. I was in the labour room this time. There were four of us, running between two labour rooms, six beds in each room, at least 3 labouring in each room at any given time. The women labour half naked, on stainless steal metal slabs. I won’t go into detail, as I’m not sure how I feel about exploiting my new work place. But my day was spent holding women’s hands, watching them writhe in pain, screaming, bleeding; being yelled at as if having a baby is a thing to be punished for. There were hemorrhages, tears, obstructions, all in which I could handle, but the women, screaming, shaking in shock, the feeling of being in a war zone, blood everywhere, metal beds, lack of supplies, was enough to through me into semi-shock myself. There was one point, as I was standing with a women who’d been labouring for hours, pushing for hours, the baby had to be resuscitated, her tear went almost into her rectal mucosa (which is really bad), that the corners of my sight began to blacken. She was getting sutured up, screaming, being told so forcefully, to obey certain commands, with no grace, no kindness, no gentleness, and I felt as if I was watching someone be tortured. It was all I could do not to surrender myself to unconsciousness, as my blood slowly left my face, leaving me, I'm sure, the color of death itself. I just kept telling her, under my breath, “Our King is coming to make all right, my love. He is coming to right the wrong. He will right your wrong my love. He will right the wrong.” Imagining my King riding on the clouds, coming to rescue the innocent from the injustices of this world was all that got me through yesterday. I know that he was breaking far more than I as He watched his daughter in pain. I took a few minutes in the doctor’s room, and couldn’t even cry. I had no words, or feelings even to explain what was happening in my head, in my heart. I am not sure how many deliveries I saw, many. I lost count. I got to receive one of the babies right out of the womb. I rubbed him warm, bathed him, and clamped his cord, praying for his precious little life. It was wonderful. Indian babies are so beautiful. Small, but beautiful.

Please pray for strength, favor with the doctors; that they will not tire of our suggestions, and looks of “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Hollie (one of our staff from New Zealand) was able to deliver two babies yesterday. So we are hoping after a few weeks, (or days) of observation, that we will be able to deliver some babies of our own. Complications seem to be normal here, so pray that I’ll have wisdom, and confidence to face them as they come. I need strength, I tell you that openly and honestly. This is a hard place for sensitive hearts. I long to feel deeply for these women without growing numb, but I can not afford to break down everyday. Although maybe someone crying with the women is more what they need than anything else. This world, it is broken. So broken.

Please realize that a lot happens on the other side of the world. Please don’t forget the lives of these over here. A world away, in a life far different than our own, but they are people none the less. If you feel a call to go, go. Go. All I can say is go. If that means to the poor and broken near you, than go. If that means to the poor and broken here, come. If that means to the poor and broken everywhere, than go. He is good, and He can come through you’re hands, and your feet. He longs to comfort the broken, hold the suffering, the sick, and the lost. He call do all these things through you’re precious hands and feet.

Bless you. I love you dearly.