in celebration of mothers

Today is Mother's Day in America. A time to celebrate our moms, the women who so often give up so much for us. I know my mother in particular just happens to be the best one out there. She is loving, encouraging, funny, intelligent, nurturing, and the best friend you could ask for. I am so thankful to have her in my life, and so happy to celebrate her on Mother's Day!

But what about all the mothers in the world who don't have children to celebrate them? In particular, I'm thinking of the ladies who I have known and loved on this ship, in Togo, Congo, and Madagascar, with obstetric fistulas. And the thousands more that I don't yet know, but am praying for always. Strong, courageous, loving women. Many of whom have had multiple pregnancies, and no living children. Who endured months of pregnancy and days (yes, days), of difficult labor, which resulted in a stillborn baby. Regardless of whether these women were leaking urine or stool as a result of their prolonged labor. Regardless of whether their husband decided to stand by her side, or as is often the case, cast her out. Regardless of whether they have previous children or not. These women are mothers to children they can no longer tangibly hold.  But they never stop being mothers. They share so much love with those around them. They encourage, lift up, care for, and love one another as any mother would a child. They are strong. They are love. They are light.  And they deserve to be celebrated on this day.

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”
~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

 

Despite their pain and heartbreak, despite their suffering, they have found the strength to move forward. They spread joy. A single smile from one of these ladies will warm your heart like you've never known before. And when they laugh so hard that they snort? Forget about it. Or at church, when you sit next to them and put your arm around them, and they gently rest their head on your shoulder. Ask you to pray for them, and pray for you. That they can experience joy like that, and share it with me, is such a testament to how good our God is. Sometimes I feel discouraged, and I know they do too, when the physical healing is taking so long, or just isn't happening. But then I am reminded of the cross. Of how much God loves each one of us, and I tell them each: You are special. You are beautiful. You are joyful. You are loved. You are SO loved. They smile, look me in the eye, and say thank you. And that smile doesn't leave their face, and their eyes continue to shine. And I know, that they understand. They know that they are loved so much, and in turn they praise God with arms outstretched. They are an example to me of unfaltering faith. Of loving and praising our Father not only when all our prayers are answered, but trusting and following Him in the journey, regardless of where He may lead.

I am so thankful for the healing that has taken place in so many of our fistula ladies this year. But I'm more thankful for the ways He brings them, and me, closer to Him. By the way He heals our broken spirits, and walks ahead of us on each of our own paths. By the way I am consistently filled up to overflowing with God's love, and can pour out that love on these women. By the way they return this love in so many ways. By the way these women allow us into their hearts, into the place where love resides. They are the most beautiful, brave women I have known. And I am thankful for them everyday, but especially today. The world is a better place because of these women and the love they share. I wish them, and all the beautiful strong women in my life, a very Happy Mother's Day. May you know today, and everyday, that you are special, beautiful, joyful, and loved. And so much more.

“The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It's the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows & the beauty of a woman only grows with passing years.

~ Audrey Hepburn

 

 

 

Pause.

Fistula surgeries are already finishing, which just flew by! We have been so busy at work on B ward with our ladies. There has been the usual business, but we have had added unexpected issues with bleeding and other illnesses more here than in past locations. Keeps us on our toes. Needless to say, a shift can go by very quickly. I am ashamed to admit, but the problem with that is I can just get so caught up in completing all of my tasks that I forget to fully interact and love on the ladies. I feel like I am too busy to make a bracelet with them, or have a dance party down the hallways, or sit and chat with them. I feel like I am too busy to pause and take it all in. This is a lie and having recognized it, I have been working hard to not let my busy shifts keep me from truly seeing and celebrating what is happening in this hospital. Pausing. Looking around. It transforms the room, transforms my perspective. Fills my heart with gratitude.

I have written previous blog posts about these ladies, so I just want to tell a few little stories about them instead of describing what fistulas are. If you are reading for the first time, you can click here and also scroll through my old blog posts... there are a few in there :)

I had a patient this week who had a VVF repair. She came in last week for surgery and I got to take care of her the day of her surgery and educate her about what to expect from the surgery and afterwards on the ward. She was very quiet and reserved, as many ladies are... no doubt nervous about the surgery and also still unsure about this new environment and the people taking care of her.  I somehow convinced her to come on a walk in the hallways with the other patients who had already had their surgeries. I saw a smile slowly spread across her face and was hooked. She smiles and her whole face lights up, her eyes beaming, revealing a slightly toothless and altogether beautiful smile. She is so precious. Needless to say, I came back the next day to find she was unable to have her surgery that day due to anesthesia problems, but later she did have her surgery and is now on the ward recovering, and up to this point, she is DRY! No longer leaking urine. And still smiling that genuine, loving smile. She called me over to her bed the other day, removed a bracelet she had made from her wrist, and gave it to me. I was so touched, I quickly slipped it on and repeatedly said "Misaotra betsaka! Tsara be! Misaotra!" (Thank you very much, very good, thanks!) She continued to beam and was just so happy to be gifting me with something.  Pause. Realization... this woman has very little to her name. She has minimal possessions. And she gave one of the only things she has, to me. It may seem small, but this small gift is one of the biggest I have received. It was given from the heart and symbolizes the huge amount of love that she pours out to others and to this world. She is such a gift and I am just so blessed to know her and get to be one tiny piece of her journey. Pause. Remember. Be thankful.

One other story from a couple of weeks ago:
On my routine discharge teaching for my patient, I went through all of the medications with her, which she quickly understood and repeated back to me. I told her how to take care of her incision and she replied appropriately.  I told her all of our instructions... don't lift heavy objects, have others carry water for you, chop vegetables sitting not squatting, eat lots of fruits and vegetables, drink 2-3 liters of water a day, other activity restrictions... she completely understood and happily repeated back to me. Then I told her, OK, you can get dressed, the Hope Center driver will be here to pick you up after lunch.  I turned to start my next task as I was having a busy day. But I sensed some hesitation. She said something quietly to the day crew who was translating for me. I asked what was wrong.  "She says she only has one outfit which she wore here and is dirty. She could not bring any other clothes because her family cast her out. She had to sneak out to get here." ... Oh. Pause. A quick reminder that I am never too busy to pause. Never too busy to look someone in the eye. To hug them. To pray with them. To tell them how loved they are. Right, let me see what we can do. I spoke with our chaplaincy team who started searching for clothes, but were struggling to find any because the patient was so small. The nurses I was working with all started offering up items of clothing we could give her, but they would be too big.  Chaplaincy finally came back with some clothes, they said some were for children because of the size. She got a pair of pants, a couple shirts, and a dress.  Later, she put her dress on and it fit perfectly. It was so pretty! All of the nurses started doting on her, telling her how beautiful she looked and how much we loved her dress. She shyly smiled and laughed and her face lit up.  Pause. These are the moments. These are the moments where I need to pause. Take a deep breath. And never forget.

As these last few weeks are winding down, as the hospital starts to empty and the last patients have their surgeries, I need this reminder. I need to remember to pause, to take it all in. All of the beauty, all of the love, all of the miracles happening around me. This is a very special place, I have not encountered anything like it, and probably never will again.