This week began with a kite festival that changed my life. I have never seen so many kites, and it made my tattoo more than worth wearing for the rest of my life. I thought of the idea last year while I was here as I heard “Kite Song” by Patty Griffen. I remember driving home from this brothel one day, devastated, and a bit hopeless for the lives of these beautiful women. Just as I was about to cave into my hopelessness, we passed a slum. I looked up to see around ten kites flying high about the dirt, grime, and poverty of the slum. I was changed. “How the little dreams we dream are all we can really do…” I was reminded of that time earlier this week as the sky was filled with hundreds and hundreds of colorful kites. There were kites in the air, kites on the ground, kites in trees around poles, around wires, kites everywhere. I remembered that no matter how bad it may seem there is always hope. The festival was nice, and reminded me of The Fourth of July. We had corn on the cob, chai, and sat by the lake. I smiled, and thanked God.

I started the week off in the labour room. I’ve really grown to love the labour room. I think it may even be my favorite station to work in. When we first arrived in the morning I was able to labour with a woman, seven months pregnant, in premature labour with twins. I saw the first one be born, a tiny little boy. The second did not come for quite sometime, and unfortunately didn’t live longer than a few days. I delivered my third baby, a little boy to a first time mother. Because the hospital has so many women delivering there, they usually do an episiotomy on “primis” (first time mothers). So, I was able to do my first episiotomy. This, with dull scissors is no easy task. But it did the job, and a beautiful little boy entered into the world. Someone took him to the new born room, as I delivered the placenta, and it wasn’t until I came into check on him about 15 minutes later that I found him having a hard time breathing. He was grunting a lot, and his extremities were white. I picked him up, got the oxygen, and prayed. I prayed with all of my heart for breath and for life. I named him Paul. I thought of Saul on the road to Damascus. God intervened, and his life was changed forever. I prayed that God would intervene as he did on the road to Damascus. That this Paul would breathe and breathe deeply. That this baby in my arms would be one that used the life he was given to change the world; to change his nation. I checked on him later that day, he was breathing easy and pink. Praise the Lord.

The next day I woke up feeling excited to go to the hospital for the first time. I spent the day on the “prayer team”. This is a newly constructed group that spends the day praying for the hospital, and doing practical things to bless others. It was a powerful day and I felt my passion for the hospital growing as I fought for it in my prayers.

Wednesday I was in antenatal, where I was bombarded by over one hundred women seeking the measurement of their blood pressure. I had to lay down the law a bit, as Indians do not go by, nor understand the rules of a “line”, or “queue”. It’s wonderful, however, to lay your hands on so many women. They are so beautiful, so valuable. The afternoon was spent in the nursery. When we arrived I was concerned about one of the babies who I could not see breathing. I checked her heart beat, and it was good. My friend said she could see her breathing, so we went on to console the many other screaming babies. However and hour or so later I went back to check on the little girl, and there was no heart beat. I felt her little chest and she was cold. It’s strange, I see dead babies more often than not in a day, and there is nothing that can ever prepare you for the next. They expected her to die, and were not surprised when I told them I could not find a heart beat. I, on the other hand, took a second to breathe again. I can not begin to look at them as statistics or numbers; I want to feel the loss. I can not become numb to the many we see weekly. Every day when we go to the labour room, we pray there will not be a tray in the new born room holding a baby that lost the battle. However, so often there are, and you have to deal with the feelings that come as you bathe a screaming little one, full of life, and look down to see one so still.

Thursday I was in the labour room again. First off, I began to labour with the sweetest woman, who would not let my hand go even if I pulled. She kissed it, held it to her forehead, and squashed it between her neck and chin… She was amazing. She would not even let me go to get gloves, as the head was beginning to come. Michaela graciously got me gloves. The doctor had told me earlier that she was twin gestation, so I thought I would not be able to conduct the deliver. But the first one was coming, and made her way into my “fourth baby delivered” slot. My first girl. I named her Amy Bella. She will mother this nation, stand for justice, and kindness. Her brother was breech. I knew at that point I was not able to finish the rest of the delivery, but I did get to do a vaginal exam and feel his little feet. It was so strange to feel feet instead of a head. I laughed out loud. My instructor pulled him out, which was amazing to watch. He thankfully came out with ease. The two were rushed off to the new born room, and I was left to deliver the placenta, which ended up being amazing. It was one huge placenta, fused together in the middle. So it appeared to be one, but couldn’t have been since it was a boy and a girl. It was really amazing. The boy, Jonathon David, had to be transferred to another hospital, as his stomach was really distended. But Miss Amy Bella is beautiful and doing well. It was also my first delivery where the woman did not tear. It was one of the best experiences of my life.

The day went on and just as we were about to leave I saw some colleges over with a woman trying to draw blood. It was near impossible to find a vein, so I was trying to help. In the meantime, the baby’s head was showing with every contraction. The doctor said, “She is only 5 cm, it will take time.” I said, “It should not look like that if she is only 5 cm.” Eve and I got gloves and the doctor continued to search for the vein. Eve kindly handed over the delivery to me, and I delivered my fifth baby, another girl. Hazel Danielle. This woman did not tear either. Praise God. So, one week- three babies. God is good. It was my first full week at the hospital, and I found that as the days went on, I fell more and more in love with it. We’ve been there just over three weeks now, and have delivered over 80 babies between us all. The doctors and nurses are amazing, and I have enjoyed getting to know them. I am daily thankful for this amazing opportunity. This week, I grieve when I think of the four months left. This week, it seems so short. Oh, anchor, be my strength. Abundance. That is my desire for the next four months. This last week felt abundant.

I decided the other day that I have been doing the bear minimum here. I’d like to give more to street people and beggars. No matter the circumstance, I’d like to give. As I was praying about that, I thought I’d ask if anyone wanted to be a part of my new adventure. Anything from a dollar to a thousand can help. With one dollar I can buy three packs of biscuits, with a thousand… well, I could buy the whole of India a pack of biscuits. I see dozens of people everyday that I walk right on past, and I’d really like them to feel as if they are remembered. If you’d like to be apart of this as well, let me know, and I’ll get back to you on how you can help. God bless you. I pray blessings upon blessings on your upcoming week. Pray for me.