I just had my last day at the hospital here in Tanzania.

I’m not quite sure how to say bye to this place, but in just a few days I am gonna have to. I will board a bus (sans air conditioner mind you) and I will be on a 24 hour adventure through Africa. Driving through Tanzania, popping off quickly for transit visas in Kenya and then settling at a new home in Uganda. 

And I have high hopes of seeing a giraffe along the way.

I think its official now. I’m a vagabond. Just when I start to get really comfortable with a culture, just when I think I have them figured out and I can see myself sticking around-I get pulled out and planted somewhere else.

Australia. India. Now Tanzania.

I’m not complaining though. The last 9 months of my life have been nothing outside of excellent.  

As a midwife, I can choose to stop and reflect on the significance of “9 months”

Conception, being formed, growing. In just a few short months I wont be able to be a student anymore.  While I know I will always be learning in this line of work, I will soon be expected to teach others the skills I have been desperately trying to master. Am I there yet? Am I capable of teaching someone else how to be a midwife? Questions I sometimes find myself thinking about. But as I have seen time and time and time again, there’s always grace when you’re where you’re supposed to be. God doesn’t call us and then leave us. He molds us and shapes us and then He uses us. So while I recognize the reality of my future life, I don’t find myself overwhelmed by the idea. And thankfully I still have two months of practice to conquer anything I’m feeling uncomfortable with.

As I reflect on who I was when I first arrived here at the end of December and who I am today, I can acknowledge a significant amount of growth, both personally and “professionally.”  It’s good to know that. It’s good to know my work was not in vain. My blood, sweat, and tears or more importantly, the blood, sweat, and tears of the women I worked with was not without purpose or cause. I’m more the person I want to be today than I was 3 months ago- and I’m grateful that I have been in an environment that allowed for that kind of growth.  I worked with a lot of women. I delivered babies. I watched surgeries. I gave shots and drew blood. Checked BP’s and gave IV’s. I did prenatal care and postnatal checks. I prayed, a lot. I dealt with complications. I saw death. I saw life and I always tried to remember to do it all so His will can be done on earth as it is in heaven. It has been a truly rewarding experience.

So saying goodbye at the hospital proved to be as hard as I expected it to be.

I really wont be coming through these doors on Monday morning? I really wont work here or belong here anymore. I continuously thought this to myself throughout the day.

I think I’m ready to move forward but it doesn’t make it easy to say goodbye. I have established myself here. I have made friendships with the doctors and the nurses. I have grown as midwife. I have learned so much. I have grown as an individual. I have been stretched and sharpened. Tried and tired. I have laughed. I have cried. I have learned from mistakes.  I’ve been exhausted, overwhelmed, worn out and weary. I have been excited, eager, and filled with an overwhelming sense of joy. 

I been fortunate to experience all of it.

I love the women I have worked with. While I may not remember all of their names, their story and our brief encounter with one another has been etched into my heart. I am touched by their by womanhood, by their strength and their endurance. Their willingness to give birth and then grow families in an environment that many people in my country would call “unsuitable for children.”  But they’re more than capable. They’re poor. They might even sometimes be broken and hurt and lonely but they are lovely. And they know how to value their motherhood and see the importance of their family. And when they smile you know they mean it.  

What’s in store for us in Uganda still remains a bit of a mystery. Talks of more work in hospitals, teaching healthcare seminars, providing antenatal care in villages off of Lake Victoria, and working in clinics, have all been some of the suggested possibilities-but it seems like everything is up in the air right now. It will be my last 6 weeks of this school. Please be praying for me during this time.  I am not ready to check out. I do have to admit it feels a bit strange to not have a concrete plan for our time there, but hey, it leaves room for some adventure and I’m always up for that.

So I’ll be signing off  now… until Uganda.

Love you.

having some fun donating blood before I go..

home visits.

what a beautiful people

friends

more friends

having a water balloon fight for someones birthday

I forced my team into humoring me with a Seder dinner last night.

I enjoyed it

enjoying a day in the operating room

Ingjerd and I

 Our last day posted in the I.C.U and I knew I wanted to go straight to the theater to see some surgeries. I love surgery. I didn't even mind if I didn't get to see an obstetric one, I just wanted another chance to see some cutting. Is that gruesome? It worked out well for me because there were several cesarean sections scheduled. The first one happened to be twins. Ingjerd and I changed into some sterile uniforms and got prepared to watch an interesting procedure.
"Lola,"  they said to me, "you take second baby."

So I did. I received twin B from the womb. Who gave an immediate cry and was doing great. Twin A was flat and unresponsive so together me and the anesthesiologist (not sure why he was involved, but it was good) resuscitated the baby. We prayed for his little life, which appeared to be hopeless but after some time that sweet baby boy opened his eyes and let out a good cry, showing us his lungs were working! He was going to be okay.
Hallelujah.

The Twins!

Our "sterile" shoes were a bit big for us.

mama t: "I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love."

I was involved in a delivery this week with a young mother who was fearful and anxious for the better part of her laboring pains. She was really hurting. As I did my best to console her she clenched onto my uniform and begged me with her eyes not to leave her side.  I, of course, willingly obliged. It was past the cut-off time for me to be able to “conduct” the delivery so I called over an MD intern and asked if he would be willing to take the delivery. I could tell he was apprehensive but that was just because he wasn’t 100% sure of what he was doing.

“But this is your patient, you have to do the delivery,” he said following a few more other excuses as to why he shouldn’t do it.

It wasn’t my patient. In fact, I was just cleaning the labor room on this day. I didn’t have any patients.

“I’m going to stay with you, I’ll help you,” I assured him, all the while talking to his nerves.

He put on a pair of gloves as her membranes began to bulge. She was a first time mom, but we both could see that little bub was going to follow out as soon as her membranes broke. When he slipped on his gloves the mother glared at me and shook her head “no” without him seeing. She spoke no English but our nonverbal communication made it clear that she didn’t want this young man delivering her baby. She pointed to me with her finger gesturing that I should check her cervix instead of him.  I just smiled and gave her free reign to clench back onto my clothing, which she did.

Its safe to say that it hurt me more than her that I couldn’t deliver her baby. I had connected with her at this point and there’s something so special about delivering the baby of a woman who trusts you. But quickly I let the disappoint roll off as I got to see that just being there with her and my assisting this new doctor was sufficient enough for her. She was lying down but she wrapped her arm around my waist pulling me snugly into her body. I breathed with her. Pushed with her. I enjoyed being this close to her. If I was catching her baby I would have missed this.

Babies head came and I grabbed her hand to place between her legs and feel the top of her new little ones head. It’s like saying, “don’t give up. I know it hurts but there’s hope! She’s coming!”

Some screaming, some waiting, some “okay push now, mama!!!” happened and babies head and torso was delivered but the lower part of her body remained inside her mom (where it was safe :]) It didn’t stop baby from opening her eyes and letting out a scream as though saying, “hellooooo, I’m here!! What is this place?!? I’m not sure I want to come all the way out yet.” But mama gave a strong push and the intern tugged on the little body and welcomed the baby in its entirety onto mama’s belly. Baby was healthy and alert and alive. 

Mom loosened the grip she had on me, only enough to allow me to breath but not enough to move from her side.  Tears welled up in her eyes,

“Thank you sister, thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh, sister, thank you.” She told me in Swhahili a multitude of times. She looked up at the intern and thanked him as well. I was glad he got the acknowledgement he deserved.

“Congratulations, mama. Thank you Jesus!” I told her back in her own language.

And then together we thanked Jesus for the baby. My Swahili skills ran out here and again I found myself grateful the intern was there. I asked him to translate as I told her how beautiful her baby was, how much the baby loves her already, and how well she did. There was a lot of gratitude going around.

Lying on her mothers bare chest baby opened up her little eyes and gazed up into her mommas face and they shared a look that almost audibly spoke eternal love. To say it was just “sweet” would rob the moment of what it really was.

Photos of different mothers I worked with this week

It was a beautiful encounter, a beautiful delivery, and a blessing to be apart of.  

When a baby is born it does nothing to deserve love and yet it is just that: loved- uncontrollably, unconditionally. In fact, it has done nothing yet in the world except cause its mother excruciating pain often subsequently causing the father to fear for the life of everyone involved. It’s fair to say it’s been a royal pain in the butt. (sometimes literally) A pain though, that’s quickly forgotten with the first stolen glance between the mother and the baby. A love that truly has no words.      I have never experienced this myself, but what a joy it is to watch someone experience this for the first time.  Those motherly instincts come immediately, like a button that gets pushed. Maybe baby flicks a little switch on its way out, an ‘okay now you’re a momma’ switch. Watching a woman become a mother for the first time is priceless. To see someone love another with such a wholesome, pure love is infectious.  The baby doesn’t have to look the right way or say the right thing. It doesn’t have to have the right credentials. There doesn’t have to be guarantees of the little one becoming someone great, its just unconditionally loved as it is in the moment. 

Got me thinking, what if I loved people this way? Loved people the way a mother loves her newborn. Without criticism, without expectations, without comparisons.There must come a moment when our parents or somebody we know fails us and we think we have to earn love because it doesn’t just come naturally. We think we have to be the right person or say thing right thing or being going the right direction in life to be worthy of unconditional love. What if we loved people without conditions though? Without expectations? What if we loved people the way a mother loves her baby when she first sees it?

More importantly what if we loved people the way the Father loves us? Because, after all isn’t a mothers love just a reflection of His love for us?

I think a love like this could change the world.

It was a good week this week and I continue to learn far more in the labor room than I bargained for.

Here's some fun photos from my week:

 

when the good gets better

I love what I get to do. I love caring for pregnant women and welcoming babies into the world. I just can’t imagine doing anything else. After about another 3 months this school will come to an end. Some people who are doing this school will only work as a midwife for the time being but most certainly remember the experience for a lifetime to come.  How could you not? I am confident though, that they will go on to do some other incredible things. I am blessed to work with some really amazing, beautifully loving, caring, and compassionate women. Some students though, will continue in the direction of maternal and child healthcare. Midwifery, obstetrics and gynecology, or whatever it may be.  Everyday I feel myself more and more certain that I belong in the latter of the two categories.

Many who meet us and find out what we do will often ask, with a slightly perturbed look on their face, “does that ever gross you out?”

And I often wonder back, how could it? I’m fascinated by the way the pregnant body functions and grows. I’m mesmerized by what I learn and see and get to touch and be apart of. It’s a lifetime of learning but I’m in it for the long run. This is what I want to do. I can’t imagine a more fulfilling and fruitful career or calling than welcoming life into the world. Or caring for a woman. Standing with them, encouraging them, watching them turn into warriors, battling the most excruciating pain of their life for the most gratifying reward of their life: motherhood, family, being apart of creation. This is what God commanded: to multiply and fill the earth.  I get to be apart of one of God’s greatest commands. And as I have said so many times before, I have really learned that this is an incredible tool for sharing Gods heart and His love and compassion with the nations. This is my opportunity to be Jesus to someone- to a woman, to a baby, to a family, to a doctor or a nurse, to those who are pregnant and suffering because of it. Ultimately this should be our purpose in everything we do. And I have found my nitch.

Over the last several months I have really been seeking God on His direction for me. I know what I want to do, I know what I am called to do, but the avenues I can take to get there could be in a million different directions. After much prayer and consideration (and a bit of struggling through doubt, confusion, and laying down my rights) I have decided and officially been accepted to join the school as staff for the next 2 years. 

Whew, never thought I’d say that.

So what does that mean? It means I am going to continue forward with Midwifery in developing nations and I will officially be called a “missionary.” Of all the things I had in mind for my life, I am not sure ever once did I want the title of a missionary. But here I am. I was wooed into it and although it is not an easy decision to make, I can say with confidence that I know it’s the right one to make. There are many fine details that are being worked out right now and I am happy to answer any questions or hear your heart/concerns/ideas. For those who have been faithfully reading my post and following my stories I want you to know that I value your opinion and I continue to be overwhelmed by your support.

Here comes the worst part (okay, not really but it sure can feel that way sometimes) I’ll need to ask for money…and that’s never a fun thing. But I have also realized it doesn’t have to be a terrible thing either. Its acknowledging that God has put the great commission on all of us and for some that means spreading the word in your home city, in your offices, and your neighborhoods. It means you still have the ability to get a paycheck, and I think that’s great.  However, for others, it means providing healthcare for a woman who might not get it if no one was there. And while the rewards for receiving babies into the world far exceed any earthly riches for me, I don't receive any income for the work I do. So I am asking that you, my dear reader, would join me in prayer as I am beginning to seek monthly donations. I want to continue to be an advocate for changes in women’s health. I want to continue to fight for good healthcare, clean hospitals, sterile supplies, and offer assistance to the hundreds of thousands of healthcare workers around the world who are burning the candle at both ends. I want to continue to help women in pregnancy. I want to continue to welcome little ones into the world, and welcome them in Jesus name. I want to see preventable maternal mortality eradicated from this earth. And I have a feeling you just might too, which is why you continue to read my stories and cry with me and feel moved with me and even frustrated by the circumstances with me.  

If you have any additional questions or want more information/details about my future or my vision with this school, please feel free to comment here or email me at laurae.brager@gmail.com

I look forward to hearing back from some of you.
Bless you all.
 

India

Midwives for the nations!

Indian princesses (or at least we like to pretend)