This week has proved to be one of the most emotional weeks of my life. I have never experienced so many feelings in such a short time. It was really Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday that left me drained, and utterly overwhelmed. My week started in the antenatal ward. I, along with Shannon spent the morning doing somewhere around a hundred blood pressures, for the women coming in for their check ups. We sat at this desk and woman after woman came, sat down before us, we took their blood pressure, wished them a Happy New Year, and moved on to the next. It was really amazing to think back to Perth when I would get a stomach ach every weekend when I had to do my three blood pressures for practice. I hated them. They were so intimidating. It was really wonderful to see how much I’ve grown in the last six months. I of course, still have my questions, but I’m sure I’ll always have my questions.

After we were finished in the antenatal ward, we went to the admissions ward. Women come in labour, waiting to be admitted to the labour room, some come with difficulties, early labour, pre-eclampsia, eclampsia, or if they’ve been transferred from another hospital. It was pretty quiet in the ward when we arrived, so we took our lunch. When we returned there were two women lying on the beds. One was eclamptic, a condition that sometimes arises in pregnancy presenting it’s self with fits, high blood pressure, pitting swelling on the feet, hands, face, and belly, and protein in the urine. She was only 28 weeks along and had already had a few fits. It’s very dangerous when the women fit for the mother and also for the baby. We were all obviously keeping our eye on her. There was another woman who had just been transferred from another hospital on the other bed. I went over to her and held her hand, as she looked a bit distressed from the many cannula pokes she had in her arms. It looked as if the doctors were having a hard time finding a proper vein. I just held her hand, as I usually do, and gave my best “comforting” look. She looked at me for quite a long time and began to cry. She looked as if she was in a much better condition than her neighbor on the bed beside her. But since she was crying, I stayed by her side. I’m not sure if the doctors found a vein, or if they walked away from another reason, as at this point the story begins to blur, but it was just Lisa and I by the woman’s side. The woman looked at Lisa for a long while. All of a sudden, her eyes were no longer truly connected to Lisa’s and a strange noise was coming from her throat. Her arms tensed up a bit, and we began to be a bit concerned. We called the doctors over, thinking she had just entered into an eclampic fit. The doctors came over, asked me to try to find the fetal heart. I looked- nothing. I asked Lisa as I was not confident in my findings, hoping I was wrong. She could not find it either. Then the doctors searched for the pulse of the woman. They couldn’t find it. I was in a daze, just holding the woman’s hand, praying. All of a sudden the ‘big’ doctors came in, put in an air way and began to resuscitate the woman. They tried for a few minutes, and did a vaginal exam to check the baby. I watched half in shock, and confusion. After a few minutes, they removed the airway, and stepped back. I remained holding the woman’s hand. “If I step back, if I let go, it will be real. It’s can’t be real.” “She’s gone,” the doctor says, half to himself, half to us. I panic for a moment as they’ve not done anything for the baby. I finally let go of the woman’s hand and go to the doctor. I ask her if they will take the baby by operation. She tells me that by the V.E. they found the baby had been gone for a long time. I look at the woman on the table, her belly sticking up full term, I couldn’t breath. The doctors leave her, and go about other tasks. There is no time to grieve, there are other woman still very much alive, and in need of assistance. I go to the eclampic woman, we try to draw blood for testing, she’s pulling every which way. The other woman is still right there. An hour later the family comes in. I can’t bear to watch them, but can’t take my eyes off of them. We move the body. The woman. The body. I can’t think as I pick her up. I want to hold the teenage boy supporting her other leg. I wonder if it’s her son. I can’t hug him, or the husband. It’s not appropriate. But I want to so bad. I hug the sister in law instead. I’m so sorry. We still don’t know what really happened; I don’t know why she died. I can’t really believe it happened. They take the body. I go home. I couldn’t sleep that night. I stayed home from the hospital the next day. I needed to pray. Can I do this? Can I be a midwife? Why have so many died? I remember Blake, he died the same day the woman did, three years ago. Or is it four? How has so much time passed? I thought of Roseanne, and growing up. Disneyland, the lake, houseboats, and pomegranates. We had so much fun. I can’t believe she’s gone. Then Logan’s mom, I hate drugs. I thought of Jacob. This one is still fresh. Death is confusing. It hurts. I spend the morning praying, working through my thoughts, presenting them to God, along with questions, and fears. I don’t know if I can be a midwife. I’ve woken up every morning not wanting to go the hospital. I’m supposed to love this. I’ve waited for this for three years. This is supposed to be where I belong. It’s really hard. I don’t know if I can do it. Five more months. How will I make it? Make time go faster, Lord.

Wednesday… the labour room. Am I ready to go back to the labour room? I wake up at 5:30 that morning. I need to prepare myself. I pray with all of my heart. I am humbled, I am weak. “Lord, be made strong in my weakness.” I am shaking as I enter the ward. I can already hear the screams. I breathe. Then something came over me, and I fall in love with each woman I see. I can do this. They are so worth it. They are so beautiful. The doctors are nice today. They don’t seem so hard and cold. Praise God. The morning was good. I watched a few births. There was a woman in obstructed labour, the baby was in an oblique lie (sideways). I see that her bladder is full, but Hollie says they’ll catheterize her in theater. The operating room is too full, and she has to stay in the labour room for another hour. She was screaming so loud, so often. Hollie asked if I wanted to catheterize her. It’s my first one. I’m nervous, but I do it. Her bladder is so full. It drains for a long time. We pray that the empty bladder allows more room for the head to engage. I feel the baby move under my hand. After a full bed pan, the baby’s head is engaged. He moved. She delivers naturally. Praise God. I do two more catheters that day. I really like doing them. They bring so much relief for these women. There is a woman in the middle bed, the madam did a V.E. She’s fully dilated, she’ll be ready soon. Hollie tells me to glove up, and stay by her side. Oh my goodness, the head is coming. I do a vaginal exam, “Oh my goodness, that’s a baby’s head!” I get the cotton, I guard the perineum. I do vaginal sweeps. The head is coming. Oh my goodness, the head is coming. Sweet Jesus. The head is coming. Here it is. The cord is around the neck. Clamp and cut. Done. The shoulders. A baby is born. A boy. He’s beautiful. I want to cry but can’t. She’s in third stage labour, a dangerous time. I deliver the placenta with the help of Hollie. Thank God for Hollie. The woman is okay. Thank you Jesus. She has a small tear. I hoped she wouldn’t tear. The house surgeon will stitch her up. I go see the baby. He’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. I may be bias. I pray for him, and ask God for a name. As I get one, I cry. I name him Melvin, after my dad. As I pray, I feel like he will be an adventurer, an explorer, a seeker of truth, and a leader in justice. I can’t really believe I just delivered a baby. Monday is still so real, and it still hurts, but this life, this life. Life is so redeeming. Perhaps I can be a midwife. There is so much hope in life. There is nothing in the world like Life. Thank you Lord. You are faithful. I hold Melvin for a long time, I think I love him. For the first time in my life, I think I might really like to have one of these little gifts. But for now, I’ll love Melvin. I believe he’ll change the world. Like Gandhi. A little Indian hero. I get home to find the name Melvin means “steadfast chief”. It’s fitting.

This week was hard. This week was amazing. This week was challenging. This week was powerful. This week was humbling. This week was hopeful. This week was liberating. This week was broken. This week was real.

I believe in your goodness. I believe in your faithfulness. I believe in your life. I believe in your redemption. I believe in your truth. You are good. You are faithful. You are life. You are redemption. You are truth. To Jesus Christ must the glory be given. To the reigning King.

“How goes the world?”

“The world goes not well. But the kingdom comes.”

Amen.