The Miracle of Life

Early on the 16^th of February, Emily came into our room and woke me up. Christine, one of our mamas, was finally in labour. She was staying at her aunt’s place in Bukaya and as I was the only one who knew how to get there given I had gone to tend to the burn on her leg, she needed me to go along to get her and bring her to Jinja Main Hospital. Her labour had started just after midnight, so though she was in pain when we loaded her and her cousin into the car, it was clear it would probably be a while until she delivered.

Jinja Main is the “free” government hospital in town so the standard of care is even less so than in the hospitals that you pay for (and even then it’s hardly decent), so when we arrived to find 10-15 labouring women kicked out on the lawn while they mopped the ward, we weren`t all that surprised. Christine was admitted and was assigned a bed so Em and I left to grab some supplies for her. I had plans to meet up with our pastor’s wife, Debbie, that morning for tea and given that I was assured that she would not deliver until later that evening and she had her cousin with her, I decided to keep my appointment. It was nearly 2 when I returned to find her alone (her cousin had gone to make and bring her some food), on a mat on the floor between the beds and in the grips of some rather intense contractions, so then started what would end up being a very long night.

The labour ward is a long rectangle room with about 24 beds lined up along the walls with one single isle down the middle. It was basic to say the least; cement floor, single windows all along the sides, metal beds that filled the air with an odour that could have just as easily been the acrid tang of blood. Everyone that comes is required to bring their own sheets, their own sutures and gloves, basin and soap and among other things, a black sheet of plastic that is used during all examinations and during the actual delivery to keep the mattresses “clean”. Not exactly what we`re used to in North America.

The next number of hours was spent alternately reading, rubbing her back during contractions and chatting with her cousin and another friend that came to support her. I was saying to them how impressed I was by how quiet the women were and how back home, women scream and yell and hit their husbands but after they’d stopped laughing they told me that I had just to wait for the nighttime…that’s when the screaming started.

As time went on I admit to feeling a certain degree of concern. She had been examined upon arriving but not a single nurse or doctor had been by to see her so by 5pm, I decided it was time to do something. I found a nurse who agreed to see her and she was led to an examination room. This eased my mind a bid as I was told she still had 4cm to go but the baby’s head was in a good position.

Em came by to see how things were going a bit later and we took the opportunity to insist that Christine be honest with us about whether or not she wanted us there for her delivery. Up until that afternoon, though I had hoped, I had no expectation of being with her at that point but when she told us that she would be more comfortable if we stayed, my excitement was evident. I went home with Emily as I hadn’t really eaten and we needed to collect some things but when we got home, my anxiety started to grow and I felt really uncomfortable about leaving her at all. So when Emily decided that she couldn’t go back to the hospital as she was too worried about the condition of one of our kids at the house, I grabbed the keys and made my way back as quickly as possible. It was nearly 8 by the time I arrived and my night took a negative turn as the stomach bug that had been going around the house seemed to suddenly hit me and in an instant the heat of the ward and the smells were causing a significant degree of discomfort. I strongly considered going home and I admit to finding great comfort in having the car with me in case it came to that, but fortunately for me, despite my best efforts, I didn’t end up throwing up; the nausea did stay with me through the whole night and throughout the next day, though.

In addition to one friend and cousin that were already there with me, Christine and Rosemary, both mamas at Ekisa, came by late after their shifts and were a great help and encouragement. Rosemary wasn’t there long passed 1am, but when Christine was moved to a secondary location as hard labour began to press in, she was quite the sergeant. I felt so sorry for Christine; she was so tired and in so much pain and Rosemary was insisting she walk around during contractions and God forbid she cry out. We all took turns being with her as the room she was moved to was small and filled with three beds, separated by tattered curtains hung from pieces of wood screwed into the wall. The other two beds were also occupied by actively labouring women and each of them had people in and out as well. I had to take frequent trips outside to ease my nausea, and took a few 5 minutes naps on a wooden bench outside the room, but spent plenty of time encouraging her, holding her hand, insisting she rest between contractions and insisting she not sit on the floor. She was relatively naked and the floor looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a frightening long time and seemed to be covered in the residue left behind after many other births. One other thing I did was pray…constantly; as time when on, I got more and more worried and anxious and she was in so much pain. If I wasn’t praying for safety and a speedy delivery, I was just standing at the head of her bed repeating “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” over and over as I had no other words during the more intense moments of the night.

Mariam, Christine`s cousin and Betty, her friend (who at one point during the night told me about how she delivered her two kids in the village BY HERSELF…these women amaze me) were right about the screaming. As the night went on, it seemed like half the women in Jinja were having their babies; hence the fact that Christine didn`t even deliver in the labour room. The sounds I heard coming from that place were at the same time frightening and amusing; from grunting to screaming, to a good ol` ”ooooooo-eeeeeeeeeee”. And all this despite the fact that any sound is quite forcefully discouraged as it is commonly believed that such a thing will delay the delivery because the baby will think they are not wanted.

Not long after 3am, it was clear things were getting close and that last 45 minutes were probably the most stressful of the whole night. I was so scared for her thinking about all the things that can go wrong, but then at 3:40am, little Janet was born; a perfect, healthy, beautiful little girl. It was an incredible sight and something that I will surely never forget. I didn`t end up heading home until I was sure that mom and baby were ok and got home around 5am, just staggered by what I had seen. Definitely a check off the bucket list…

I slept for a few hours and then went with Emily to pick up Christine and bring her home to Bukaya. It was pretty funny going back in there so soon; like a home coming. Many of the women that were there during the night were still there and greeted me like an old friend as I walked down the aisle. There was also a woman in the room where Christine delivered that was there all night with us and who had been in labour for a couple days before that. In the midst of a contraction, she still greeted me when I walked in to see her and asked that I would pray for her. Poor lady…three days…I wish I knew how that had turned out.

The one final thing I would like to say in the wake of this experience is that all you western women who complain about not having your bloody private room…Suck. It. Up!

The Labour Ward

Below and above are images of the room where she delivered... 

Christine (another Mama from Ekisa) just moments after her birth

...a few moments after that...

Taken the next morning when we went to pick them up...beautiful just like her mama.

Emily's first time holding her.

Back in Bukaya. Not a great picture, but just a quick shot of mom and baby.