I’ve seen so much of God’s faithfulness in the local people here in these past few weeks. In some ways, the pace of ministry has slowed down a bit, as happens from time to time, but one of the frequent conversations has covered the idea that “maybe we’ve just become adjusted to this as the new volume/ patient intake?!”
And we all think it’s true – the usual number of births alone at Mercy Maternity Center has risen from 60-70 per month (this was the case until a bit after my arrival) up to 140+ per month, peaking at 164 babies in May and staying steadily close to that! It’s almost hard to believe. As I’ve shared in a few recent email updates (sign up here), it was notably hard at times, but so rewarding and God-glorifying.
All that to say, as the lying-in clinics in the surrounding area slowly start to open their doors again to give women closer options for giving birth, we’ve steadied our “pace.” If I could go back and relieve some of those pressure-filled, sweaty, fatiguing, run-together shifts – I’m not sure that I would. Nope, because there’s something I learned during those times. Don’t get me wrong – my human nature would not ask for it back tomorrow, whoah, it was hard. But now… I go to my scheduled shifts with a different perspective in mind. I prepare and arrive at the clinic with more on my mind in some ways in terms of strategies for loving well, but also with more peace in my heart that God walks ahead of me and my team I’m assigned with for that day.
God has sustained every complication we’ve walked through, not all without some hurt and processing to do, but faithfully nonetheless. Along with that, the many blessings of “normal” births and happy babies causes me to seek out relationships like that with each one of the mommas I get to be with. And because I think it’s incredibly worth mentioning, God has kept each one of the Mercy employees and volunteers virus-free… even with the hundreds of families who’ve come in and out of these doors. He would still be good if He hadn’t (I think we’re each a bit bumped and bruised from the trek, anyhow), but He is a Father who answers prayers.
Every girl finds herself in a position here at some point in time where they see a run of “cases” that are better handled at the local hospital, lest they turn into an emergency without proper resources. (They seem to come and go in batches for each of us…) We call these “transports,” as we’re able to transfer their care over, go with them and bring them to the obstetric emergency room, and endorse their labor or recovery period over to the doctor. I say, “we’re able to” because the more it happens, the more I’m able to see what a blessing it is to have an option like that so closely where I serve and train here.
Some (likely obvious) negative effects: it’s quite sad to see a mom (and sometimes more often her partner) so disappointed to need to deliver elsewhere. Then, it’s oftentimes very hard to be okay with in the moment as a health care provider – because emotions run high in the labor and birthing scene. That’s added to by the dynamic of building relationships with these moms occasionally and seeing them come so far through part of their labor, pregnancy, and birth even. For me it doesn’t take long after meeting to be all in and exhilarated about them meeting their baby at Mercy.
There are the occasional women who “handle” these transports with such grace, and she and I are able to discuss why it’s better for her – and she gets it. (This usually is preceded by my having this same conversation with a seasoned midwife on her reservations…) There are other moms who are painfully quiet in the moment but are so sweet to message later on about their birth and recovery; and those occasional ones who ask for “painless” their entire labor, and discover they can make it without (yay). Of course there are the unique ones that are especially sad, the first time ones who have a rough go of labor and “time out” of our care system, or need a jumpstart after having ruptured waters for too long. Or this one I’ve been thinking about all week…
She was a Sama-Bajao, a people who are known for “living by the sea… ” and so much more. They’re one of a kind. Before the virus we were able to bring antenatal maternity care to their community during the week. They speak quite a different dialect – their Ates (like an older sister, aunt, or respected woman) are often able to do some translating to Visaya for us. They also actually have no frame of time or dating to reference to! You can imagine, this makes pregnancy due date calculating quite a challenge without catching them in time for an accurate enough ultrasound.
Well, this expectant mom was in labor, and she was probably about my age (they have no idea when their birthdays are either…). She came in on a swing shift and I received her to help with her care. Unfortunately, she was quite unsure of when her pregnancy could have possibly begun, and she was measuring borderline for preterm. Such a unique case, though common here – I’m pretty sure many of them have delivered in their homes in these past few months because of restrictions and not having direct access to care, or the encouragement to make their (long) way to the clinic. For a while, their community was on lockdown because of an outbreak, even, and they couldn’t leave their barangays (like villages or districts). One thing that’s comforting is that their mothers and sisters are quite familiar with the way of birth, though I can’t help but think of the many times they’ve likely needed hands-on competent care from our Filipino staff here, but weren’t permitted…
Before this gets too much longer… my supervisor and I decided it was best to get her to the hospital in case the baby needed some help with transitioning after birth – though I think and hope after assessing that he was probably just big enough. The Lord actually gave me the sweetest blessing through that night though, because after personally not having cared for one of these ladies in so many months, I was reminded again of what He does in them and how He watches over them. They were so kind and their body language was that of understanding. Transports are always an extra opportunity to take some time to pray on the trip in the clinic ambulance – and goodness, do these people take you seriously when you say, “mag ampo ta.” “Let’s pray.” All four of us at once: her, her partner and his sister and I, just asking for the Lord’s intervention and blessing over the baby and the unknown of the next few hours for them.
While I don’t know their hearts and can’t discuss world view or doctrine with them (and may not ever need to), I can love in this way… for these few moments, these few exchanges of half-sentences and back rubs on the way to emergency care. And I can pray that the same God I plead with for their souls is the one they do for His blessing. My prayer life was strengthened a bit more in that moment, and in a way, I was gifted with a minute of fellowship with people who are humble, and gentle, and sweetly trusting that there is more to life than just ourselves. All wrapped in one sad transportation trip, my longing to meet together again with believers came before my eyes – and I was reminded how grateful I feel to experience the sweet people of this culture and country.
I’m thankful that each day holds a new relationship, a glance into just a small part of a woman’s story… a reminder that even as I long to love these people well in the time I’m given with them here, God graciously teaches me how I can be a little bridge in the gap for someone to see Him in the scary, or even frustratingly human moments. To catch a glimpse at hope. To feel a hint of His steadfast and Salvation-bringing love. To pray alongside someone when their hope of a normal day turned out to require a little more of them than they thought they had inside.
More stories soon,
anna cherie