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Tuesday 27 December 2011

au revoir India


I really wanted to sleep in today, but it’s still early in the morning and I find myself awake. As I write I am sitting in on a big comfy chair that has a table where I can conveniently lay my computer. There’s wifi in the air and the only thing keeping it from being perfect is the fact that its racking up the bill. I had a hot shower last night and slept in a big cozy bed. There is air conditioner that’s cooling my skin. I watched tv. I’m having a western breakfast this morning. Steam room, sauna, gym, pool... yeah, its all in my horizon.  And as I am sitting here in this room, being extraordinarily grateful for the gift of a night in a hotel (thanks to my parents) I am also trying to process what the last 6 months have been. It seems sort of weird to be staying here, in India, yet so far away from what India really is- but I appreciate it beyond words. Tonight I will board a plane and I will move to Africa. I almost have to repeat that sentence to myself just to be sure it’s true. Moving to Africa?
Six months ago I started this school in Australia, eager to learn midwifery, hungry for the skills. Three months ago I came to India and I got a taste of what it’s like. But, in the midst of learning the skills my character was challenged. I grew. I realized that midwifery isn’t just delivering babies. I learned that it’s an incredible tool to share the love of Jesus with the world. It’s an opportunity to love a woman and a child and a family and it’s an opportunity that most people don’t have. It’s immediate trust that I gain from a complete stranger.  I don’ t take that for granted. It’s learning to celebrate life and mourn death, but not be defeated by it.  It’s the awareness that the "struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." It’s realizing that stuff is real. I learned its fighting for justice. I learned it could feel like moments of helplessness, but in the same breath I have also learned how to rely on Christ at work. To call on Him and to be constant and consistent with Him the way He is with us. I’ve learned that I have a lot more to learn….So while I have had bouts of homesickness (especially over the holidays) I am still eagerly looking forward to the next 5 months.  I am looking forward to the next “lecture phase” I am about to have in Tanzania, where I have the opportunity to learn more advanced things, including how to manage problems in pregnancy and delivery. I am looking forward to the African culture. To the women, the men, and of course to the babies. I can’t wait to welcome African babies into the world.  I am looking forward to the dance and the music and the church services. I had the opportunity to visit parts of Africa a few years back and I’ve always thought I left a small piece of my heart there. I’m gonna go collect it. And add to it. And let it be broken again for the injustices of this world. But I am also going to let it love and I am going to let it grow. I look forward to what’s in store for me.  So thank you for following my journey in India. Thank you for the baby hats and the gifts, the donations, and THANK YOU for those of you who are just reading and taking interest and gaining awareness.


Here’s our statistics from India. I share them just so you, the ones following and supporting me can see some of the fruit from our work- and I say “our” work because if you are following, praying, or supporting me then you are apart of this inheritance:

We shared the gospel with 1,203 people. We saw 35 people give their life to the Lord. We did healthcare teaching for 1,297 people. (Knowing its important not just to provide it, but teach the locals how to do it) We delivered 273 Indian babies and witnessed/was apart of hundreds of more deliveries. We saw 3 babies come back to life after dying and then praying out for their life.  We saw 21 healings. We prayed for 15, 100 people. We provided healthcare for 15,213 people.

India has been a lot of things. But in the end of all the adjectives I could use to describe it, I will say India was worth it all. So as I say tearfully say goodbye to India (never thought this place would grow on me so much) I acknowledge that it’s a time I will never forget. I’m still overwhelmed with gratitude for the time I got to spend here.  For the opportunities I had. For the awkward encounters and the adventurous moments, for the laughter, for the pain, and especially for the growth. 

See ya in Africa. Hakuna Matada!

"There’s no place I would rather be, there’s no place I would rather be
Than here in Your love, here in Your love.
There’s no place I would rater be,  there’s no place I would rather be.
Than here in Your love,
So set a fire down in my soul that I can’t contain,
and I cant control.
I want more of You, God.
I want more of You, God.
Set a fire down in my soul, that I can’t contain,
and I can’t control.
I want more of You, God
No place I would rather be.
No place I would rather be.
Than here in Your love."


some photos from the last week:














Thursday 15 December 2011

thanks to MGMH


Over the last several weeks my team and I have been working on a  “community profile.” It consists of around 150 interviews to local Indian mothers (or soon to be mothers) that ask them about their experiences in pregnancy, birth, nutrition, and more. We did this in order to conduct research and draw conclusions about beliefs and customs practiced as a community in India, as it relates to pregnancy. If we want to see things change in a country, it’s important to know what the people believe and how that can affect their lifestyles. I learned a lot from the interviews and I would be happy to share with anyone interested, but one thing that really stood out to me is described below:

A couple weeks ago a few members from my team and I went to a private hospital here in the city to ask for a tour. When we stepped into the hospital I had that, “we’re not in Kansas anymore” feeling wash over me. Wow. What a stark difference from the hospital I work at. It was clean, welcoming, friendly, organized- not really different from a hospital I would be used to seeing at home. We approached the front desk (“whoa, they have front desk??” I thought as I walked towards it) and explained who we were and asked if it would be possible to see how things are run at their hospital. They politely requested we took a seat and not long after waiting the head gynecologist welcomed us into her office. She was a very wise woman and we had a few minutes of “talking shop” with her and then she personally showed the group of us into every area of the hospital. This hospital is amazing. It has state-the-art equipment, its sterile and clean and the way they practice is totally up to par to American standards. I’d have a baby there.

 As we were walking in and out of the private labor room we were making many comments about how nice it is to see how well run the place is. The doctor, of course, knew we were working at the local government hospital and pretty much everyone in the city knows what government hospitals are like.  As we found ourselves making comparisons from our hospital to hers she kindly interrupted us to remind us how vital the government hospital is.
“Thousands of woman would die if the government hospital wasn’t there. They are saving lives,” she said.

I have been thinking about that comment every since she said it. I am glad she was able to be a voice for her country and open our eyes to see how crucial the hospital we work at really is. You’ve read the stories, you’ve heard about how dirty and unruly the place can be. You’ve heard about how the woman have been uncared for and disrespected and yes, all of this is often true-but I just have to say that I am grateful for this hospital. One of the main thing my school prides itself in is being a defender of life. We believe that every person has the right to given health care and while the conditions may be less than adequate at our hospital, it is a place that is treating pregnant woman. It is a free hospital, where poor women who cannot afford the luxuries of a private hospital are able to go. And if all the hospitals here in India were as amazing as the private one we toured, then there would be nowhere for the thousands of poor mommas they see on a daily basis to go. They are providing it. And by doing so, they are saving lives. So why you have heard me tell horror stories of things that have happened at the government hospital, may you also hear that I believe this hospital is a gift to the community. The place is mostly run by Post Graduate doctors. They sometimes get one day off a week and the hours they work are unheard of. The patient to doctor ratio is unmanageable but somehow they (usually) seem to make it work. These doctors are worn out, burnt out, unappreciated, underpaid, and overwhelmed. And none of them want to work at a government hospital, they just have to. We have all been in positions or at jobs that we just didn’t want to do. So imagine, just for a moment, what it must be like to work at such an intense place, where you really don’t want to be but you have no choice if you want to continue on in your career. It’s like prison for some of them. So when they act out and lash out or just respond purely apathetically it isn’t justified at all, but it’s sort of understandable, right? It’s not okay but, I know that I have been guilty of having a bad attitude in places I didn’t want to be too. And I am not justifying their behavior or practices at all. I think it is a necessity that changes are made, but in the midst of a lot of negativity I shared I just want to give the hospital some respect that I believe it deserves. I want to acknowledge that the workers are few and they are operating in the only way they know how to.

Many times I think to myself that there are no excuses for the way they treat the patients though. And there isn’t an excuse, but there is an explanation. It’s the way they have learned. It is not unheard of to act the way you’re taught to act, in fact, it makes complete sense. It’s not one person’s fault that women get ignored or rounds get forgotten about. There is not a single person to point the blame at. I have realized that the issues at the hospital go far beyond the yelling doctors. The issues have to do with the city, the government and its officials and the way things are done. It has to do with whose voting and whose funding and in a country where a lot of corruption takes place and a lot of resources are lacking, the outcomes look like women being left alone at a hospital while they are giving birth. But that’s just one example. That’s from my perspective. There are thousands of children who will go to bed hungry tonight, there are elderly people of the community who have no place to sleep, there are families that make a “living” by picking through the dumpster. Who is to blame for all of this?  I guess my point here is I have shared just a glimpse of a much bigger problem that exists and it goes far beyond the hospital I work in. Through our research I have learned that there is a problem that’s affecting an entire country and people group and as a result there is a maternity hospital that is dirty and lacking supplies and in desperate need of more healthcare workers.

These problems may be beyond my reach but they are not beyond the reach of the God I serve. As one person I may not be able to see change in the next couple weeks in this country, but I believe as people we are responsible for being aware of these types of problems- contributing when we have the chance and never ceasing to believe in the power of prayer. At the hospital, I have learned that it is not just the pregnant women that I get to encourage and help fight the battle; it’s the workers at the hospital as well. Encouraging them, talking to them, smiling at them, taking interest in who they are, not just what they are doing.  So while I may not see India change overnight, I can still love an Indian woman. I can take the time in the midst of a really busy day to stop and look at a doctor in her face and ask her how she’s doing. I can console her when she tells me she’s overwhelmed. After all, it is not my job to judge those outside of the church or the body of Christ. I don’t need to change the world or to change India, I simply need to love those who are living in it and let the power of the love of Jesus Christ do the rest. And I can show people Jesus, and I can be confident that His love is all the whole world needs. And if I can just share it with one person, who can share with one more person then that is what will change India.

So thank you, to those who dedicate their lives to saving life. Thank you to the workers at the Government Maternity Hospital.












Saturday 10 December 2011

in the middle of my mess, you wash my feet.


Today I was in the admissions ward. You may remember an earlier story from the first time I reported to duty in admissions room. Once it was an unfamiliar place, but it has grown to be one of my favorite spots in the hospital. As a student it’s a great place to be. Every patient who gets admitted into the hospital comes into the room to be seen by the Post Graduate doctors. This means all the abnormal and complicated cases in addition to the “normal” cases. The women are seen, given a vaginal exam, have their blood drawn, and an IV inserted so some type of oxytoxic drug can be immediately administered. This might not seem like your idea of a good time, but all these things are blast to me. Getting this type of practice and experience feels like hitting the jackpot for an eager midwife student, as myself.
 A regular day could include cases such as, eclampsia, HIV, hepatitis B, obstructed labor, cephalopelvic disproportion, abortions, cesarean sections, and yes even an occasional unsuspected delivery or two will take place. A field day of learning opportunities and a great opportunity to be the first welcoming, safe, and loving face to the women come in contact with.   
As I stepped into the room today it seemed a bit calm. I didn’t hear any shrieks or cries for help and the overload of patients to be seen by the doctors seemed bearable. I headed into the examination room (and by “room” I mean spot behind a thin, ripped up curtain where scans and vaginal exams are preformed.) As I made my way behind the curtain I saw a woman on a gurney. I think it’s the first time I have seen a gurney in the exam room so I was immediately drawn to the situation. 
I looked at the woman and realized her placenta cord was hanging out. “Does she have a retained placenta, why is her cord still out?” I wondered out loud. One of the interns overheard me.
“One twin delivered. One still inside.”
“Well…alright, another delivery on its way. Lets do it,” I thought. Already eagerly reaching for some sterile gloves. However, before I could get them on a few other doctors surrounded her. One doctor began the exam.
“Hand presentation,” she said.
Everyone, including myself, perked up and was a little eager to have a feel. A hand presentation may not make sense to you. But it is totally abnormal and seems extremely interesting for a person who usually feels the top of the head upon an examination. As eager as I was to have a feel, after 3 other doctors checked her without any consent from her I decided it was best not to do the exam just for the pure sake of my curiosity.  Those situations are often difficult for me. I’m a student. I need to learn. I am allowed to learn. But there has to be an acknowledgment of what’s more important: learning or trying to leave a woman with the little dignity she has left after such an evasive thing being done by so many people?
A hand presentation indicates that she is in obstructed labor. She will not be able to have a normal delivery and must be taken for a caesarean section. They did a scan on her to have a look at the baby. No movement was found. I went to get a Doppler (a device used to check the fetal heart rate.) As I began to check her, she looked up at me searching my eyes for just a glimmer of hope, “my baby…?” she asked open endingly.
I know what she was getting at. Through her broken English I knew she was asking me if her baby was ok. If the baby who was left inside of her would still be alive.
I wanted to tell her yes. I searched frantically with the head of the Doppler around her stomach to find the heart. No sounds were heard.
She began to speak more to me. The proficiency of her English surprised me.
“You understand what I am saying?” I asked her.
“Yes, madam,” she said through her contractions.
“Has anyone explained what’s going on to you?
She shook her head, no.
“How is the first baby? Where is it at? When was it born?” I earnestly asked her the questions I wasn’t getting answered from the hospital staff.
“Born 1:45am. Female. With my sister,” she responded.

It was around 10:30am. This means that it had been over 9 hours since the first baby was born. I am a student. I am still learning so I naturally had questions about whether or not its ok to leave a second twin inside for 9 hours. I searched through the logic in my mind though and quickly concluded that it’s not okay.  
It’s just not okay.
I can’t justify any reason to leave the baby inside. She’s obviously fully dilated because she has already delivered. Had they not done a scan previously? Had no one palpated the stomach in 9 hours and checked if the baby was in a position that would allow for a normal vaginal delivery? Why hadn’t she been taken in for a c-section earlier?! Has no one checked if the second baby is distressed? If the heart rate has dropped?
“Where is this woman’s case sheet,” I wondered, frantically, again out loud.
“I don’t know, I just got here,” another unsuspecting intern popped out from the woods to answer. 

Feelings of helplessness began to wash over me. I couldn’t make this about me though.  Not when someone really was helpless right in front of me.

“What is your name?” I looked into her eyes and asked.
“Vereema,” she responded.
“Ok Vereema, I am going to look again for the heart beat. And then I am going to pray for you. I am going to pray to Jesus for you.”
“Oh, thank you Madam. Thank you, thank you, Madam,” she gratefully responded.

No heartbeat.

Jesus, please let me see a miracle here. Please, protect this woman and her baby. You have said we can pray and we can heal and You have given us this authority. Please, God.

I held her hands in mine and put my other hand on her stomach and sincerely prayed out for her.  As I was praying one of the new post grad students came in.
“Did you find a heartbeat?” She asked me.
“I cannot find.” I told her.
“It is too late,” she said to me, verging on an attitude lacking emotion.
“Maybe you can see a miracle today,” I implied back to her.

Alright God, you gotta come through for me on this one. Think of how greatly You’ll be glorified! This woman, her baby, her family, AND now the hospital staff. They will see that You have brought life and healing and they will know that You are a good, loving, and a true God.

A man came in to transfer her into the operation room. I promised her I would come to see her in the postnatal recovery room after the operation and that I would continue to pray. She was wheeled away from me and I tried to go back to work but it just wouldn’t settle with me.

I quickly headed over to the “Theatre” as they call it to join her for her c-section. Sometimes they don’t allow us into the operation room. Truthfully, we have no reason to really be there so I wasn’t sure if they’d let me in today.
“I want to go in with Vereema,” I said, halfway pleading.
They gestured for me to follow. I put on a sterile uniform and scrubbed in.
She noticed me in the room. I made eye contact with her as to tell her that I was going to be there with her- no matter what. Within minutes she was under and the cutting began.
I watched. And prayed. And prayed. And interceded for the life of that baby.

I wanted to cry when I saw them pull the lifeless body out of her mother. She was perfect. A beautiful looking little baby girl that was lacking nothing but a heartbeat.  The cleaning lady who normally takes the babies was no where to be found so they left the baby to lie near the mother while they removed the placenta.  I silently still hoped for a miracle. When the cleaning lady eventually came in carrying a cardboard box I was a little confused.
Confused-until I saw them pick the baby girl up and chuck her into the box. I wish I was exaggerating when I say that they chucked her into the box. I shrieked out loud. Her body slid across the box and bent unnaturally.  That is a human. And no one in the room even cared or gave any value to the body that lay before them. They see this countless times everyday and the sanctity of life begins to just wear off.

Please, Lord, never let this happen to me.

They began to suture her back up and I knew that I was due to relieve some girls in the antenatal clinic (ANC) right about now. What a flood of emotions. I wanted to stay. I needed to stay. I wanted to be there when she woke up, alone, without her baby and without any explanation of what happened to her. In these moments I am torn.  I know my teammates would have been understanding, but I know that I have a job to do and I committed to be somewhere at a certain time. I also knew that it would probably be a good hour before she was awake so I made the choice to leave her, knowing in my mind I would be back as soon as my shift in the antenatal clinic was over.

Straight from the operation room I headed over to take blood pressures in ANC. I wiped away the tears from my eyes and sat down to an overwhelming sea of pregnant bellies. The line of women waiting for me to take their blood pressure was wrapped around the hall.

God, how do I show each one of these women I care about them right now?? I don’t want to take their blood pressure. I WANT to go and be with Vereema, and I WANT to read her case sheet and I WANT to know why that baby died. I WANT ANSWERS. 

My first mom sat down and I opposed my feelings of apathy with a warm smile. I had to fake it at first, but eventually, in some miraculous way God gave me His grace. And even though at this point I wanted to be anywhere but sitting in this crowded, smelly hall taking an absurd number of BP’s- I was able to see His face in each of theirs.  And taking their blood pressures didn’t seem so monotonous anymore. I offered pray to each woman who came to me.  After I finished my 65th blood pressure, I took off my stethoscope, rubbed my aching ears and headed back over to the operation room.

Vereema had already been transferred. I searched the whole hospital for her. I couldn’t find where they put her and I couldn’t get anyone to give me a straight answer.

I wish I could finish this post with a happy ending. These are the days that I leave the hospital with a lot of questions and “why” just doesn’t seem sufficient. I need answers. I want to know why the God who can breathe life back into a body wouldn’t do it when I begged Him for it, publically for others to see? Why didn’t He save this family from the heartache that they would have to endear? Why didn’t He show His glory to the unbelieving hospital staff?

These questions remain unanswered for me, but I know not forever. In the mean time, I will still choose to know that God is a good, just God and even when things that happen around me try to tell me different I will stand firm on this truth. I know that God’s heartache for this woman is greater than mine and I know that even though I didn’t see Him answer me on my terms it doesn’t mean that He didn’t. There are things we do not understand. While we may only see a glimpse of an image, God has the whole picture. And I will choose to trust in His painting.

 “In the middle of the storm, You are the peace.
In the middle of the desert, You are my strength.
In the middle of my mess, You wash my feet.
In the middle of it all…You are, oh Lord.
You never leave.
In the middle of my brokenness, You are my strength.
In the middle of my nothing, You are everything.
In the middle of my mess, You come down and wash my feet
In the middle of it all… Here you are.
You never leave.
In the middle of my storm You are right here with me. Walking right beside me.”
(a song by Jonathan David Helser)


a view from the hospital















Thanksgiving in India




 The following post was written awhile ago, but I haven't had much time on the internet! Sorry for the delay:

Operation “Thanksgiving-in-India-2011” was a total success. Several of the Americans on our team, including myself went to a westernized grocery store where we searched high and low for ingredients to make our feast. First item on the agenda: turkey. Unfortunately, the only thing that we could find was one leg-with the claws still attached. We politely declined and unanimously agreed that we could just pretend that chicken was in fact a turkey this year. We stocked the cart full of all kinds of ingredients and headed over to Jens house. Jen is an amazing woman who is living here in India with her husband and 3 kids. They are missionaries here that our team met at a Franklin Graham Festival a couple weeks back.  Jen just so happens to be around 6 months pregnant, so you can imagine that a group of midwives had plenty to connect with her about. The family graciously opened up their home to our team of 21 on the condition that we would help cook. We, of course, were thrilled with the idea of getting to be apart of cooking Thanksgiving meal, especially for the Europeans and Australians who have never had the opportunity to enjoy the delights of a Thanksgiving dinner. We happily obliged and our Thanksgiving plans took off. A group of us headed over to the house in the morning. We split up jobs and before we knew it the chopping and slicing and cooking and baking and boiling and frying was well on its way. I was responsible for the dessert. Jen, like I said, is amazing and she had her mom bring her canned pumpkin from America and a make-your-own cheese kit. She was able to make her on cream cheese and I therefore, was able to make a pumpkin cheesecake and a pumpkin pie.  The rest of the team wandered in at different times, and a total of about 30 people gathered together and enjoyed what seemed like a real American Thanksgiving feast- all the way here in India. It was marvelous. After dinner we had a time of worship and then played games and watched Christmas movies.
I have to say in the midst of everything we are apart of and experiencing here God still wants to bless us. 



Definitely will be a Thanksgiving I’ll never forget.

Saturday 3 December 2011

THANK YOU WOMEN OF THE CROSSING!!!!

Earlier this week I came home to heaps of packages piled on the floor near my bed. What was inside? You may ask-  tons of beautiful packed bags for the babies at the hospital. Hats, blankets, towels, diapers, and more.

I have to give a huge shout out to the Woman’s Ministry (and all others who were involved) in sending and packaging the baby hats, blankets, diapers, and towels! Wow, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. It’s a huge blessing to my team and I- and an even bigger blessing to the brand new babies who get to be wrapped up and kept warm after their delivery! Welcomed into the world by a beautiful bunch of women in Las Vegas! Thank you, thank you, thank you!! Ladies of the Crossing: I hope you are able to feel the joy of the blessing that comes from being apart of welcoming life into the world! Thank you for partnering with me. Thank you for caring. Thank you for the money, time, and energy that you took to be apart of this ministry.

Thank you mostly for being an example to me and living out the gospel. You remind me of the verse in Matthew 25:

"When he finally arrives, blazing in beauty and all his angels with him, the Son of Man will take his place on his glorious throne. Then all the nations will be arranged before him and he will sort the people out, much as a shepherd sorts out sheep and goats, putting sheep to his right and goats to his left.
 "Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what's coming to you in this kingdom. It's been ready for you since the world's foundation. And here's why:

   I was hungry and you fed me,
   I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
   I was homeless and you gave me a room,
   I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
   I was sick and you stopped to visit,
   I was in prison and you came to me."

Enjoy some photos of the new babies who get to be wrapped up in your gifts.