Fingerprints All Over My Heart

Day 37

Days of frustration and anxiety are hard on a girl. I have come to a conclusion: Computers were put on this earth to make me crazy! Actually it’s not really the computer per se, but rather the large conglomeration of paper work/logging/evaluations, etc. that are converging here during this time. To further my sense of frustration I will forget how to enable some certain feature in a program, or how to get to a certain place online that I am supposed to complete some task at, or even get stumped in searching out some basic things on google for instance (how many ways CAN you re-word a question before you hit on the magic combination of words?). Then I will have some random midwifery question come my way and although I know I have gone over that subject a thousand times I cannot form an intelligent informed answer at all. This creates a very deep well of fear inside of me. I think to myself  “Have you wasted your own time and your family’s time, not to mention so many resources on this journey, only to find yourself in the final stretch and not be able to finish?” Perhaps all students of every discipline feel such moments (hours? Days? Weeks? Years?) of pure insecurity in their ability to finish the course set before them? All the responsibilities on my shoulders at this time seem so overwhelming some days, and I feel the stress of being constantly behind and guilty for not being able to stay caught up. The old familiar, twin and equally ugly specters of low self esteem and insecurity become my constant companions at such times and I find that they walk so close as to cause me to stumble often.

Yesterday I had a young teenage girl here in labor. She was painfully shy and withdrawn. There were several things that told me that she was in some ways pretty clueless about what she was about to go through. For instance, she didn’t bring any sanitary supplies, seeming confused when I asked her about it as to why she would need them. She didn’t want no remove her underwear, and seemed completely shocked when we had to check her dilation (part of the admitting protocol here). It took me back to my own scared (try terrorized!) 14-year-old self, and the complete shock and strange sense of violation and betrayal I felt when it was all over with. We asked her if she had understood all that she learned in the childbirth classes but got little response and instead she would look away in embarrassment. My biggest concern came when I learned she had had very little to eat and no water all day (only a few bites of chicken with coca cola to drink). I suspect that perhaps this was her typical modus operandi. I have seen great looking babies come out of a few mamas who survived on cereal, twinkies and sodas, but more often I have seen labors with true failure to progress, terrible tears of the perineum from tissues in poor condition (because of the malnutrition factor), and obvious (though often not tested) hypoglycemia when the pushing stage was meant to begin which ends in maternal exhaustion and a stalled labor in the eleventh hour. I also suspect a correlation to mothers that vomit during transition to hypoglycemia because the whole thing looks so familiar to this midwife who has struggled with hypoglycemia since my adolescence.  I was told not to eat anything as soon as I knew I was in labor. I know that the basic fear many women have when approaching childbirth, and the very nature of birth, that some women do not experience a lot of natural hunger and so are not inclined to eat much if at all in early labor. This can especially become a problem when you think about the fact that early labor can last for a couple of days! The whole world seems indoctrinated to the fact that the medical model teaches that the “entire digestive system shuts down during labor” (yeah right!!! ask any other mom of 7 what she thinks about that!) and so it has become a sort of accepted “understanding” that you shouldn’t eat when in labor “just in case you need a cesarean”. The sad fact of the matter is that failure to progress and maternal exhaustion can be the very thing that leads to the need for a cesarean! Oh it is such a frustrating cycle that I have seen repeated over and over again. I had like a snap shot picture in my head of how this particular poor girl’s labor could end, although I did my best to convince her to eat throughout the day to try to change what I could see coming. Alas, she turned her head aside at every plate of food brought to her and we only managed to get a few bites of plain white rice down her. The night ended in the wee hours with us practically carrying the poor girl out and a sad quick ride to the hospital with her gentle moans haunting my “primary under supervision’s” heart all the way there. I thought the poor child would slide right out of the wheelchair when she was wheeled in and oh how I wanted to gather her up and make it all better. We were not allowed to accompany her into the hospital. Today I am sad and unsettled as I wonder about her fate. The hospital care here can be horrendous with two women and their babies to one twin bed, no sheets, no pillow and other such unimaginable treatment. Babies under observation are often put (unwashed) several to an isolette (making that particular word rather nil and void wouldn’t you say?). On days such as this, I feel the word “unfinished” to be a better adjective of my person (and in this case the work set before me) than the aforementioned “becoming”. At present the forward process feels forced with very little ground gained with each gargantuan effort. I suppose this is a normal part of the process so I will try to check my attitude and give thanks for every hard lesson learned.

On other news, there was a toddler in TLC who was born with a cleft palate and double cleft lip. He always looks at me with his great big eyes and runs towards me and then hesitantly stops and gives a little half wave as if not sure about how I will receive him. I am so pleased to say that he finally got to have his second surgery, though he is looking a bit weary worn with his little face bandaged and bruised. Still he has enough orneriness to be giving the worker caring for him a run for her money most of the time. I was glad that the first time I saw him he wasn’t looking at me, just in case any “shadow of turning” may have appeared on my face (a fact I am embarrassed to admit… why are humans so enamored with the perfection of features? I am gonna ask God about that when I get to heaven!) I always greet him with a full open face wreathed in the brightest of smiles and am rewarded with an instant relaxing of the tiny little signs of anxiety he carries around his eyes. I have heard that they are making decisions in his adoption. I pray that his new “forever family” will be blessed by this sweet sensitive boy. What a gift he is for sure!