God has Given

"Where are we going?" My dad asked as we turned off the road and headed straight into the shrubs. 

"You didn't recognize this as the road?" Geoffrey responded as he pulled the vehicle off the road, around almost 180 degrees, and onto a small bike path. It was a single reddish-brown dirt path that snaked through fields, around huts, and through creek beds. It was only the width of a bike tire in many places. 

"People probably don't see a vehicle driving down this path very often!" Dad exclaimed as we ran over bushes with our tires and tried to not hit our heads on the ceiling as we bumped over rocks and down into small ravines. Needless to say, this village can definitely be described as "off the beaten path". 

When we arrived, Daniel greeted us and showed us to the clinic. Daniel is a Burkinabe nurse who serves here in this remote medical facility. He diagnoses, prescribes medicine, and gives treatment to all the people in the surrounding villages. He triages, provides wound care and suturing, and even delivers babies. I like that last part, and Daniel knew it. "We will pray for a woman in labor to come," Daniel told me, "and you will deliver the baby."

When we arrived, he was the only one working in the clinic that day, and he had a waiting room full of patients. First, I followed him into the consultation room where he triaged several patients, sending them to the pharmacy with a written sheet of prescriptions. Next, he went to the pharmacy, unlocked the door, and filled the prescriptions for his clients, instructing them to return to the clinic for the administration of their medicines and treatments. Then he locked the pharmacy, returned to the clinic, and administered the medications, treatments, and wound care to that same group of patients. Then he started the process all over again. Talk about a one-man circus. 

After a few rounds, I began to assist him in the taking of vital signs, performing malaria blood tests, and administering quinine injections. Still, no women in labor. 

Later that evening, after an enjoyable dinner and cup of tea, we headed to the center of town to set up and show the Jesus film. We stayed to watch it awhile, but as soon as we were ready to leave, Daniel shared the news. "God has answered your prayer! We have a woman in labor coming!"

I grabbed my headlamp and headed to the delivery room, which was a small room, dimly lit by a solar flashlight that someone had hung. Daniel reported that she was 8 cm, so I made sure we had all our supplies: a small metal tin with 2 clamps, a pair of scissors, a cord clamp, and a bulb suction. The 22-year old woman, Deborah, was laying flat on the bed, which would be more accurately described as a dirty old stretcher covered in holes and tears. No sheets. Just covered with the ponya that she brought from home. When the contractions came, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, but hardly made a sound. 

During and in between some contractions, I used a fetlscope to listen to the baby's heartbeat. "I feel like I am on 'Call the Midwife' right now...African version!" I told London, Geoffrey's daughter, who was with me and getting ready to see her first natural delivery. There was water dripping from the ceiling at about 120 beats per minute, and I used it to help me estimate the baby's heart rate. 

I snapped on my sterile gloves. After one additional hour, I proudly announced, "she is 10 centimeters and ready to go!" The baby's head had moved down into the birth canal, but she still had some pushing to do. I patted her leg, and gave her my best smile. 

What happened next is difficult to explain. Maybe it is because everything happened so fast that I don't really know what happened at all. Perhaps it is because communication was difficult between me, an English-speaker, and Daniel, a French-speaker. All I know is that just when I was ready to start stretching her tissue and preparing her for delivery, Daniel stepped in and began pushing with all his strength on the top of her abdomen. Slightly shocked and terrified at the maneuver, I watched him essentially push the baby out with brute force. The head delivered, but the body remained inside. Daniel instructed me to pull while I tried to communicate that the woman needed to push. After what seemed like an eternity, Deborah gave one final hard push, and the baby came into the world kicking and screaming. 

At the sound of that baby's sweet cry, my heart started beating again, and I realized I had been holding my breath. "It's a boy!" 

We dried the baby and London cut his cord before we wrapped him up in a colorful ponya and handed him to his mother. 

As we helped them settle in for the night in the postpartum room of the clinic, we took the opportunity to pray with them. That's when I heard her story. Daniel explained to us that she already had one child just over a year old. In Dagara culture, it is looked down upon to have children so close together. It may be considered a sign of promiscuity. Because Deborah had become pregnant so quickly after her last child, she attempted to kill herself when she was three months pregnant by drinking herbicide. Miraculously rescued, she entered into Daniel's care and he was able to save her and the life of her child. 

This is who the Lord brought into labor tonight. Of all the women who could have come this evening for me to deliver their baby, this is who he chose for me. 

As I held her baby, I prayed over him and Deborah with all my heart. I thanked God for saving Deborah's life and for bringing new life into the world through her. I prayed for renewed purpose and restored hope. I prayed for God to claim this woman and her child for his kingdom, and I prayed that our presence would somehow point them to Christ. 

As I prayed, I came to a realization about myself. Sometimes I pray without really wanting what I ask for. I know this because when I prayed for this woman, I actually wanted what I was praying for with all my heart. And I felt the difference between this prayer and all my other prayers, which suddenly seemed too routine, unemotional, and even faithfess. But not this prayer. No, this prayer was real. I wanted God to answer so that he would get glory. 

Long after the mother and child were probably fast asleep, I lay awake in my hammock with thoughts and emotions running around in my heart and preventing me from sleeping. Part of me thought that I just experienced the coolest thing in the world - I delivered my first baby in Burkina! But the other part of me thought I just experienced the most traumatic thing in the world - a delivery in crude conditions of poverty that was handled in a way that could have significantly harmed the mother, baby, or both. I was thankful to God for the miracle of a new life, especially in a situation that seemed so dangerously out of my control. 

As my thoughts raced back and forth between thankfulness and fear, awe and terror, there was one constant voice that prevailed...the voice that I have come to recognize in my time of chaos. The voice of the Lord.

He first reminded me that this experience was very intentional. He had things for me to gain from it.

"So what is it, Lord?" What did he want me to learn?

He brought to my memory a passage in the last chapter of Isaiah. God often uses the analogy of motherhood and even labor and delivery in the Bible to teach his people about pain, perseverance, and the bringing forth of new life. In Isaiah 66, God says, "Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?" 

God is the one who delivers, who brings new life into the world. Even in the most perfect delivery where I do everything right, God is the one who gives the first breath. And even when things go awry or I make mistakes, even when a delivery is a complete disaster, God can still make a baby come out with a beautifully beating heart and healthy, screaming lungs. Just like this night. And even when deliveries seem to fail completely and the day of birth is also the day of death, God is still sovereign and in control. 

I was instantly humbled as a labor and delivery nurse. Because I am not the one who delivers after all. I am the servant, and God is the perfect deliverer. 

I also learned that the things that make you angry are the things that become your passions. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why I want to come back to Africa. There are things yet to be done. Mothers still die in labor or shortly after because of complications. Babies are still orphaned because mothers are lost in childbirth, and they become neglected and malnourished because they don't get their mothers milk. Children live with health problems that occurred because of complications at birth. There is a huge need for maternal education, prenatal care, and even holistic labor and delivery care (as evidenced by this experience). I want to come back and be a change agent not because I am American and can do things better (No, not at all!), but because I have been given eyes to see how things could be, and I want to partner with the Africans to make a difference in the care of their mothers and children. 

The next morning, I visited Deborah and her baby again, happy to find them resting and doing well. I think I even saw shy Deborah smile at me. Deborah invited me to name her baby, and with the help of Daniel, I chose a name that means "God has given". 

"Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?" says the God of perfect deliverance. He is the one who saves lives when they feel like they aren't worth living. He is the God who fills tiny new lungs with air and allows them to take their first breath against all odds. He is the one who allows us to be a part of those moments. 

God has given new life. 

God has given a reason to live.

God has given purpose.

God has given value and worth.

God has given hope.