We get to experience a little of everything out here in Mbita Town. Our dear young friends, Willis and Roselyn, who married last July have been awaiting the arrival of their first child. It was decided Roselyn would give birth here in Mbita at the private clinic in our ICIPE compound. She has done so well, grown very round (a big big soccerball inside), she was all baby. Most women here can be 9 months pregnant, and you don’t even know. Roselyn was carrying around no secret.
She had been coming down to ICIPE for the last three days to get some injection for her chest. She has had a cold and rough cough for the last few months, even lost her voice. After getting her injection, she would come to our house to rest, drink water and get up her energy to walk another mile and ½ home. Saturday when she came she just laid herself out on the floor. As I visited with her before she was ready to be “released” to walk home, I suggested maybe she and Willis stay in our old flat here in ICIPE, so she could be close. She welcomed that idea, and said she would share with Willis. The striking pain that “hits hard and goes” as she called it began and they were back here by 7:00 p.m. We checked on them, took some food, and the requested white toilet tissue ( a delicacy here in Mbita ). She had seen the doctor, and was 1 cm dilated (I was so glad they were checking). The striking pain was coming about every 3 hours. She was to check with the doctor again at 12:00 a.m.. She was a ways off, but not in her mind. I told her I was very willing and wanting to be with her, so I wouldn’t be bothered by a call in the middle of the night or the early morning.
When we got out of bed after 7:30 (I love Sunday mornings), I was a bit disappointed we hadn’t heard from them. I thought she just went ahead and did it by herself. But, when we got to the clinic, she was still there looking smart in her hot pink dress. The strikings were occurring every 5 minutes now. I began to time, because that is what you are suppose to do. I began to do all the long and short breathes as well, because that is what you were suppose to do. I told her to hold my hand and squeeze when the contractions came, because that is what you are suppose to do. We didn’t boil any water though. She stopped grabbing my hand when the contractions came. Then I realized what I was doing. As she would squeeze my hand I would squeeze her hand back, that is not what you are suppose to do. My terrible tendency to grab, bear down and over do everything.
The male nurse, husband to one of our teachers, was the only one on duty. I never really understood if he would be delivering or if the doctor would come. He kept answering me with, “it depends on what the doctor is doing.” Of course, optional is always the best. Nick, the attending nurse, did a wonderful job. He was graciously calm, encouraging, steady, and gentle.
A couple of hours later, we moved to the delivery room, where she hoisted herself up on an examining table covered by nothing. I realized when it was all over that really made for an easy clean up. So here she is, bright pink dress, examining table in the raw, nothing to hold on to, put her legs in, on, against (that is probably old fashion), and a kanga she was determined to use as a curtain between her view and her delivery. Nothing done, no cutting, preparing, pain killer, nothing. She was told when she feels like pushing she should grab her feet, lift her head and push. The doctor did show up. He and Nick stood there and told her to push, then gave her a yes or no. I got into all the coaching, cause I know so much about all this. She did so well, never screamed, cried, carried on, just gave it her all. I was back and forth from holding her head to peeking round the kanga curtain to see what was happening. I tell you the head is the hardest, once it is out the rest follows and the doctor or rather Nick got in the game to pull. A baby girl. I knew it would be. Sweet crying, goopy, you know the appearance. These little dark ones are still much cuter than our white ones I do believe. The doctor, who stood aside the whole time, took the baby and began to wrap and wipe and deal with the cord. Then, feeling his supervision had been sufficient, he left. I was feeling her stomach and it was hard. I knew there was yet to come, even got the word right, placenta, but this was far more than a placenta. I have only been in one other delivery, and I don’t remember all the details, but the attempt to remove her placenta or rather assist it was rather unique. Nick and I left alone became very curious about this hard placenta that refused to budge. I suggested it might be another baby. Roselyn chimed in with a moaning NOOOOOOO! Nick’s hands completely engaged now, I got in the game with the sono thing you can hear the heartbeat with . No heartbeat, but Nick was now intrigued. I got on the gloves while he examined her to check out what was inside. He confirmed it was a baby.
Though she said she had nothing left to push, Roselyn was back in the game.
This one’s head was bigger, and I just sensed it wasn’t going to be well. It came out very blue and not making any noise. Nick flipped him over and started to beat the back. I was praying. We were pushing on his heart. He was so perfect, every little detail in place, healthy looking, developed, baby. Both babies were good sizes for twins and had stayed almost the whole 9 months. The second was a little boy, looked just like Willis, same upper lip. Steve and Willis were right outside, not knowing what was happening. They had heard the first baby crying, so they knew one had come. The doctor had walked out right past them, stated only that they might need to make tea for Roselyn and never said anything about the safe delivery of a baby girl. Steve then noticed there was no crying from inside, and the doctor was slapping a baby. Thinking it was the first one not doing well, he parked himself right by Willis and prayed. Then hollered in at me to let them know something. So, when things were cleaned up, I was released to go and share with them. I shared, I cried. Of course, I had been crying since the first little miracle came out. Steve cried. No one else ever cried.
We just don’t know if anyone else considered it a life. Willis asked what we should do with it. We said, name it, rejoice, mourn, picture it in Jesus’ arms, release him to the Lord, bid it good-bye until heaven and bury it. Steve said he would make the coffin, which seemed awkward to them. We really don’t know how the others felt about it all. Our American minds begin to process all the questions of how come, what if, if only, and their Kenyan minds say it is death and it happens.
Steve did make a coffin and later in the afternoon, he, Willis and another close pastor went to Willis’ property, joined in prayer, and put the baby in the ground.
Such joy and such sorrow in the same moment.
“He gives and he takes away, Blessed be His name.”
I leave in five days for my first trip to Kenya . (For anyone who thinks this might be an ideal time to try to rob my house, don't. I have a 20 year old son and a 7 year old dog who both live at my house. One of them is large, mangy and known to attack people they do not know. Trust me, you don't want to guess wrong about which one) My friend Eddie is going along as my body guard (he'd fit in with my son/dog except for the mangy part) and traveling companion. We'll spend some time in Nairobi meeting with a couple of people before heading to Mbita to visit Christ's Gift Academy. I don't think I've ever anticipated a trip more than this one. Its been three years in the making. (Maybe more like 45 years)
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