I WOULD HAVE BEEN A STATISTIC
Death during
childbirth knows no previous experience in the labor suite, neither does it
know age nor social status. I have seen teenage mothers give birth right at
school, having concealed their pregnancies for a solid nine months while grown
women die in the same process. The irony of life!
In 2013, having
carried a pregnancy successfully to full term, I was checked into hospital with
a painless labor. Much as there was no pain, it was crystal clear that my time
for delivery had come. A few minutes into a very promising progression of
cervix opening, but suspiciously with no labor pain, I was whisked into the
theatre for an emergency caesarean operation with literally no time for
explanations. I saw and felt the ugly pangs of death in the few minutes that I
still had the consciousness to know what was going on around me. Before I got
an injection for full anesthesia, I pleadingly asked the doctors to save my
life and the baby’s. I cried to Jesus to allow me to live again, because the
dark cloud of death was menacingly dancing before my eyes. The happenings from
morning had changed so fast, from entering the labor suite on my two feet, the
warm conversations I had with hubby and our friend Susan as I waited for labor
to progress and the swift turn of events of being whisked to the theatre as an
emergency case.
Whatever
happened thereafter, I do not and will never know. The doctors did their best
and my Savior Jesus was right there with me. I would not have lived to tell the
story. I was whisked to theatre at 11am, having checked into hospital at
10:30am! I was taken out of theatre at 8:00pm. I was able to fully regain my
consciousness an hour or so later. Weeks after when I had gone back to the
hospital for review, the doctor told me what a traumatic experience it had been
for hubby and his friend Johnson Wanyama as they refused to leave the theatre
door demanding for updates.
‘We are doing
our best.’ That’s all they kept getting from the one or two medics that
happened to come out of that door during this time.
It is an
experience I have failed to describe. The reality of how I nearly lost life was
to haunt me after. I was both angry and afraid at how feeble our lives are. You
have it now and you are totally not in control of what comes the next second. I
fell into post-natal depression. I cried, I hurt my fresh caesarean wound, I
carried more emotional baggage than I should have. I asked God why he could
allow me to go so close to the edge of the grave. It is only after recovering from
the depression that my eyes were opened to the profound truth that had it not
been God, I would now only be a statistic.
It was a
difficult season for us a family. I cried literally all the time. Hubby had me
to soothe and the baby to feed! The baby seldom cried. The emotional distress
could not allow me to breastfeed. I think the baby, having witnessed firsthand
the struggle at birth was born with enough resilience deposits. He was the
calmest baby one would ever behold on mother earth. He rarely cried, never got
sick and had appetite all the time, for anything available. This helped me to
concentrate on my recovery process. I can never imagine what life would have
been with a grumpy baby.
Today, (August
14, 2020) David makes seven years. I know that every child is special and has a
unique birth story. David is a daily reminder to me of the miraculous saving
grace of God’s power. On this your birthday son, my prayer is for every mother
to have the blessing to live and nurse their children. My appeal is to our
leaders to prioritize maternal health, no mother or child should be dying in
this age in the process of childbirth.
Dickson
Tumuramye, I am glad you were a primary witness of this miracle. Thank you for
remaining faithful to the call.
©Prim K. Tumuramye
Prim is a Christian,
wife, mother and Communications Specialist at Compassion International. She is passionate about reading,
writing, youth mentorship and intentional parenting.
Comments
Post a Comment