I woke up yesterday to find that it was February, 2007. I’m not sure how that happened. It felt as if I went to bed with braces on my teeth, and a dream in my heart, and woke up in India, waiting to embark on yet another adventure; which seem to come daily here. However, it has been seven years since I got my braces off, and seven months since I started the Birth Attendant School. Seven amazing months.

Monday I was in the labour room. I really love the labour room. It is amazing how we adapt. I remember when I first arrived at the hospital; I was completely taken back by the conditions. But as time has progressed, I have found that my understanding of the reasons for the conditions has grown, and somehow eased my mind. Perhaps it is not beneficial to have grown used to such conditions, but I feel rather at home in there. In the warm, stuffy labour room, filled from floor to ceiling with smells, and sounds that take one’s breath away. The metal beds that line the walls in both of the rooms now have memories attached to them of women and babies that have so graciously blessed my life. I have felt overwhelming opposition, I have felt defeat, I have felt hopelessness, and I have felt fear. I have felt victory, I have felt confidence, I have felt life, I have felt joy that leads to restoration. I have seen miracles. And it’s only February.

Gabriel Dillon- my eighth baby came into the world on Monday. He was a tricky little man. His mother was a “primi” (first pregnancy) and didn’t have much room to fit a baby through, so I was able to perform another episiotomy. To be honest, I don’t care much for them. But I’m not sure anyone really does. The mother was terrified, bless her heart, and throughout the entire labour insisted on closing her legs. It was a fight to keep them open enough to guide the little one out. As Gabriel’s sweet little head was delivered, I felt his neck to find the cord very tight around his neck. I looked closer to find it had wrapped itself around three times, and then once around his little shoulder. We clamped, we cut, and tried to unravel the mess, but the cords were somehow woven ever so complicatedly into each other. It was a rather stressful situation, as a bit of panic crept in. The lead duty doctor was yelling, as they sometimes do, instructions at us, then she reached her hands in, unclamped, clamped, unclamped, clamped, yelled, clamped. It’s crucial to make sure the baby’s end of the cut cord is clamped. If not, the baby’s blood supply could drain out of the umbilical cord. At the end of it all, the baby was pink and screaming, and I was sweating. I’d like to think we were equally traumatized, but chances are he’d take home the prize.

After the delivery I was feeling a bit discouraged, as my last few deliveries have been really beautiful, without such complications. But as I ran through the thoughts and memories of the birth I had just conducted, I realized. I can and will do the best I know how, but at the end of the day it is not how well I deliver babies that matters. I have a tremendous grace over me that has allowed me to do all that I have done these last seven months. I laugh sometimes when I get lost in the illusion that it is actually by my own strength that I have delivered these little ones. Sometimes I find it quite comical, my arrogance and naivety, other times I just find it sad. None the less, I enjoyed the revelation. I am carried by arms much stronger than my own.

The rest of the week was rather slow, but slow is good for me every now and then. It reminds me what is important. It’s not always how much we do that it is important, but how we do the things we do, no matter how big, no matter how small. At times I was frustrated, at times I was content, and at times I was overjoyed. Oh, the beauty of humanity.

Thursday I was in the labour room again. The interns at the hospital rotate every two months and we just recently received a new batch. Because they are new, I have delivered more babies than most of them. So, many of the deliveries we would have gotten went to the interns. It was really wonderful to work along side of them as a team. “Break dividing walls”. I love that it is not “them” and “us”, but we are learning to become a well oiled machine, working together to perform healthy, beautiful deliveries. I assisted a doctor in delivering a woman I had been monitoring for quite sometime, and it was really amazing. By four o’clock I still had not had a delivery. However, I had been monitoring a woman for three hours, and it appeared that she would deliver. So, I waited. And I waited. It wasn’t until 4:45 that the woman next to her began to do the “It’s coming!” grunt. I ran to get gloves, Hollie got a delivery kit. I delivered a beautiful girl with out a single complication. Praise the Lord. Hope Kelly.

It hadn’t been 10 minutes since I finished up with the first woman that I heard Hollie calling from the other room for me to get gloves and a birth kit. I ran to her prepared with everything needed to find a woman and a fairly threatening scene. She had extremely swollen feet, and an indwelling catheter (which they don’t insert with out good reason). I had no idea about who she was, or her history. I had no idea how many pregnancies she had had, or how they had gone. I reckoned that she was hypertensive, as her feet were very swollen but there was no time to take a gander at her chart as the head was crowning. It was an amazing birth really. It felt as if it was in slow motion, and I was just going through the motions. It felt as if I had been delivering babies my whole life. I was comfortable. (Not with out a few fluttering butterflies mind you, but comfortable.) The cord was around the neck, however it was loose and I was able to carefully pull it safely right over her little head. I noticed her hand was right by her face. So I just made sure to hold everything in tight to prevent tearing, and with in seconds we had yet another beautiful little girl. Skylana Grace.

There was another little girl born this week; one that I am quite partial to. Julie Bess- my niece. I am anxious to meet her in June. But for now, I say- “who is my brother, and who is my mother?” I will love those around me as if I would love those at home. All are worthy of such a love.