Oh, Haiti Life

I was up extra early this morning, coffee made, wash tubs filled with water and dirty laundry, worship music playing, ready for the usual Saturday morning routine.

It's just after 6a.m. and I'm a few minutes in to washing when there is a knock at the gate.  I call out “Ki moun?” (Who is it?) “Bonhome,” comes the reply, one of our security guards.

I open the gate expecting him to hand me keys or something random, instead he says “yon madame kouche sou té a la kay mwen. Ou bezwen koupe lonbrik li.” (A lady is laying on the floor at my house. You need to cut her belly button.) He says this while making a slicing motion with his hand across his belly. What?!? Excuse me? You want me to do what?

I ask B if he’s called Megan, immediately knowing her phone is probably dead after 36 hours without power, he tells me he’s called but can’t get ahold of her.

I ask what’s wrong with her, looking for a little clarification as to why we need to “cut her belly button.”

He then tells me she has a baby, and is doing birthing motions with his hands as if we’re playing charades. I have a momentary “I have no idea how to deliver a baby” thought rush through my mind as I head toward my phone, not knowing exactly who I thought I was going to call (Everyone’s phones are either dead, or they are sleeping and would also have no clue how to deliver a baby…) I return to the gate and tell B “you need to take her to the hospital.” He again repeats, “you need to cut her belly button” and I finally understand that she’s already had the baby but the cord needs to be cut and they aren’t sure what to do or how they should do it.

A little relieved I grab my keys and head across the street to the guest house where our team is staying, because it just so happens that on this team we have a former labor and delivery nurse, as well as a student midwife and doula. I wake them up and tell them there’s a woman who has just had a baby and her cord needs to be cut. As they get dressed I start asking B questions and realize he hasn’t even been home after work to know the situation. He doesn’t know how the mom is doing, doesn’t know if the baby is a boy or girl, but does know that she had the baby around 3 or 4 in the morning. He kept telling me in his happy, distinctive Bonhome voice, “we’ll know what we need when we get there.”

I head upstairs to grab some gloves, decide to stuff some alcohol wipes in with them, and without any luck look to find something to cut with.

The four of us head back to my house where I find some scissors, and grab dental floss and a strip of cotton fabric. On to B’s house we go.

We enter to find a young lady (20) laying on the dement floor of  a dark house lit by a single kerosene lantern, back propped up against a wood and iron chair, baby laying there on the floor, in blood, between her legs…

I tell B he needs to go to Megan’s house and get her because she can translate better than I can. He stands there, I’m translating for the ladies, he keeps standing there… I  say a little pray that everything is okay and nothing goes wrong because I am not going to be able to translate anything serious or in detail like it would need to be if there were any sort of emergency.

We immediately poke at the baby. Baby cries. Relief. 

Lindsay and Ali try to get the baby up to mom’s chest but the placenta hasn’t fully delivered so the baby can’t reach. Lindsay tries to get momma to push and deliver the placenta but she can’t so they decide to go ahead and tie off (with that random piece of cotton fabric since I couldn’t find string) and cut the cord.

Lindsay then helped momma deliver the placenta.

Did I mention at this point not only are there three white women who are complete strangers, but the father, a sister, brother-in-law, three young nieces and nephews and now a neighbor lady all in this small home looking on as all of this is going on and we are trying to get baby to breastfeed.

We help mom bathe, get clean clothes on, make sure she drinks water, and get her off the floor and on to a mattress where she can rest.

Ali takes care of baby girl, who was given a name by this time, Djennica.

We left mom and baby exhausted and sleeping. 

All before 8 a.m. and then it was back to laundry. Just another day in Haiti.

I am thankful God had Lindsay and Ali on this team, I am thankful that three hours after birth mom and baby were both okay, I’m thankful mom had a successful, safe delivery with no tearing, I’m thankful God has given me the ability to remain calm instead of freak out, I’m thankful He gave me all the words I need to speak/translate, and as inconvenient as knocks at the gate can be at times I am thankful we are a gate that people know they can knock on when they need help. I am thankful God has me here to answer knocks on the gate (though at times I need to remind myself to answer those knocks with an attitude of thankfulness).



P.S. – Supporting my ministry is easy and gifts are tax deductible.  The fastest way is to make an online donation via www.WorldOutreach.org/donations and select my name from the list.  The system can process USA & International cards.  You can also set up automatic monthly gifts if you select the "Monthly" option.  Or simply mail your gift to World Outreach Ministries, PO Box B, Marietta, GA 30061 and designate it for Sharon Zuercher #378.