Yesterday as I drove to the village, my eyes drank in the trees, the bright pink and yellow flowers. I gulped in “fresh air” for the first time in four months. For as far as my eyes could see, there was only land. Not a single building, not a single person. Just land. I felt the hour long bus ride could never have been long enough. I wanted to keep driving, forever. Peace. But when we finally got to the village, I was happy we were there. We were able to do a teaching, and some antenatal checks on 13 pregnant women. These women are from a tribe called the Banjaras. Their traditional dress is amazing, very bright colours, lots of layered skirts, shirts and scarves, white bangles all the way up their arms, huge nose rings in each nostril, big earrings, necklaces, anklets, the whole bit. I always admire them at the hospital, and was very honored to visit the place they call home. The simple life style was so refreshing. As we walked down the dirt road back to the highway, past fields of rice patties, and straw huts, I realized it was the closest thing to “quite” I had experienced in ages. I wanted to close my eyes and enjoy the beauty of stillness, but I couldn’t for fear I’d rob them of the beautiful landscape.

As I was taking in the stillness of the countryside, the others were in the labour room. I came home to hear that we’d delivered eight more babies (that puts us now at 222 babies delivered since January), and seen a resurrection. As the story goes, one of our girls was monitoring the baby during labour, and found the heart beat strong and steady. She went away on some errand, and returned to find that the woman had delivered a dead baby. Apparently the episiotomy had been cut too soon, and the baby had been in the birth canal to long. The hospital staff deemed it “still born”, however, two of my teammates had gotten our baby resuscitation bag, and were relentlessly trying to get a heart beat. Then after five minutes, they found one. They continued, two working with the baby, two praying in the background. There was a crowd of student nurses, and a few student doctors watching this valiant attempt at saving a life. When the hospital staff was ready to put the baby in a metal try, and set him on the floor, as they daily do with still borns, our girls pressed on. At fifteen minutes, he took a little breath, and they continued. Then after 35 minutes, he was back. He was alive. The pediatrician came down and said, he was “good”. They said the atmosphere changed after that in the labour room. The dead had risen, and the tears had flowed. The doctors said “Thank you”, the madam said, “God bless you”. My God is a God of life. I think all of us, Christian, Hindu, and Muslim, all understood that a bit better yesterday, as we all witnessed a miracle. Together.

I visited Lauryn Anne, and her mother again this week. It was really wonderful as this time we brought an interpreter. The mother said she’d been at the hospital that Tuesday and had looked all over for me. She also said that since I told her I’d return, she waited for me everyday for two weeks. It was in that moment that I realized, we are not just delivering babies here, we are unknowingly changing lives. I feel so unworthy.

I delivered a baby this week that was full term, but weighed only 1.3 kgs (2.86 pounds). Her chart said they suspected Intrauterine Growth Retardation. (IUGR). The scan estimated she was only the size of a woman 22 weeks pregnant. I had my reservations about doing this delivery, however the head was coming, and out she came, tiny, into my welcoming hands. They rushed her off to the newborn room as I delivered the placenta. After the mother was all taken care of, I went to do a newborn exam. There she lay in the metal holding beds, tiny, pink, and wrinkly. The hat we'd put on her, tiny as it was, overtook her delicate little head. I habitutally call babies “Monkey”, but felt it almost inappropriate in this case. Instead I called her Katie Pollyanna. My beautiful little girl, baby number 17.

I’ve been overwhelmingly tired this week. It’s as if the last nine months have finally caught up with me. We’ve been given many new and exciting opportunities this week, many outside of the hospital. We have begun working in different villages, focusing more on house visits, and being out in the community. This is very exciting for me. Last week I found that two months seemed so long, now I find that two months seems short. I can’t imagine only having two more months to do checks on the woman in the villages or, two more months helping at Mother Teresa’s home for the dying and destitute. It feels as though we’ve just entered into a season ripe with fruit and bursting with opportunity. Perhaps it’s just God knowing that it’s exactly what we need to finish strong. Renew me Jesus, my strength, my love, and my heart for this nation.

May you all be blessed, each one of you, by the love and life of Jesus Christ.