***...I've just been updating my blog a wee bit and noticed this post for 11/2012 that for some reason went unpublished. Just hitting the publish button now because although don't remember the circumstances surrounding writing it, it rings true for me and brought a smile to my face today! Hope it does to your as well. ***
Happiness is so relative. So dependent on so many fluctuating factors. So transient, so easy to find but even easier to lose. And yet we chase it, hunt for it, like it's caffeine for the soul, and we're desperate for another fix.
What's wrong with not being happy? Why do we hate it so much? After all, sadness, anger, frustration, indifference, aren't these all just emotions, and can't the same be said about happiness? It's just another state of mind. Different in experience, yet biologically and physiologically similar to so many other feelings. So what's the big deal?
I think one of the problems with happiness is that it's unrealistic. Think about it. Always just out of reach. We can imagine it, picture it, envision it, plan for it. We might even grasp it every now and then. That perfectly 'happy' moment, when life is as it should be and all is right in our own little world. But it doesn't last. It can't. It's not real life. It's imaginary. Like planning on winning the lottery or building a castle in Neverland, planning on one day becoming ''happy'' for the rest of your life is just a bit of a fairytale.
So what? What do we work for then? What could be worth pursuing more than a happy life and a happy family?
How about something real. Something that you can feel in your bones is good and worth every minute of your thoughts and every ounce of your energy. Something that is accessible and tangible and satisfying, that leaves you content and at peace with who you are as an individual. Something that is rewarding.
I'm talking about love.
It's a pretty crazy thing. When you think about it, it's also pretty hard to define. It encompasses and embraces so many different emotions and good feelings: joy, peace, even happiness. But it also throws a cozy blanket over some of the harder ones. It can be at the very heart of sadness, can result in raging anger, and can lend a hand in frustrating and indifferent circumstances.
It's also just so satisfying, and so accessible. Those are the two things I love about love ;) You don't need to hunt and chase and grasp and miss it, you just have to do it! Love. That guy on the street, that kid in the grocery store, your mom, your flatmate, even your dog.
Make the conscious choice to love, and to receive and accept love in return. It's real, and it's so worth it.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Week 1: Elective placement in the South Pacfic
***Minor details of the following stories have been changed in order to protect confidentiality of the women and staff I have been working with on my overseas elective placement. Confidentiality is an important aspect to my work and not something I would sacrifice willingly! ****
...I walked in the labour ward on the morning of Friday, the 18th of October 2013 tentatively optimistic about what the day would have in store, armed with insect repellant and hand sanitizer. I had already had two full days of overwhelming orientation to birth in the Pacific Islands. I had assumed that being within a few short weeks of formally finishing my midwifery training would have me at least somewhat prepared for what I would find on this placement. I expected to be working somewhat independently, and under somewhat challenging circumstances.
It turns out "somewhat" is the understatement of the year. I determined quickly that a routine of sanitizing and insect-repelling every hour or after every birth (depending on which came first) would protect my OCD-inclined mind if nothing else. I also became exceedingly grateful for every minute of my formal and informal midwifery training within the first hour of my experience at this particular base hospital.
..On this particular morning I pushed open the sticky double doors, dodged the nighttime nurse aid who was mopping up a bit of a spill, and saw my colleague-of-sorts, a medical student from Australia in his last year of training who had arrived just days before me, and was certainly just as culture shocked. He was at the end of the delivery ward corridor, staring blankly through the glass window into the baby treatment room. I joined him and said good-morning, while peering through the smudged glass myself. I saw what appeared to be an extremely small infant wrapped in too-big blankets, left under a heater beside an oxygen mask. It was impossible to tell if it was breathing but in all honesty I didn't really want to know if it wasn't*. Alex looked at me and raised his eyebrows questioningly. I shrugged and turned around, heading back down the corridor of delivery rooms, toward the First Stage room where women labour together while waiting their turn to give birth. Alex followed and on our way we could hear and see and smell post-delivery damage-control and suturing in progress..It was 8:30 am, already unbearably hot, and my stomach turned....And, to borrow from author Jane Yeadon, "not for the first time in a career on which I was so determined, I wondered why on earth I was pursuing it".
We made it down to the First Stage room and opened the double doors to find about 4 women sprawled on plastic covered mattresses, a ceiling fan whirring overhead, and blood splattered all over the floor. We looked at each other and had to laugh.
"Well, what a great way to start a day!" Alex chimed with an I'm-so-overwhelmed-I-dont-know-what-else-to-say smile.
"We better go get changed and join the fun..." I grumbled as we dispersed.
After we were dressed, sanitized, and the insects were repelled, we returned to the first stage room. One of the woman labouring was carrying suspected twins. Neither she nor the midwives were sure, or seemed to care much one way or the other. Alex and I did not understand this laid back attitude toward what she could potentially be carrying in her uterus and we attempted in our recently trained naiveness to figure it out. I relied on my abdominal palpation skills and Alex dragged out an old sonogram machine he was sure he could get working well enough to detect twins on scan. While we were mucking around with all of this, the woman informed one of the midwives she was ready to give birth. The midwife instructed me to check her cervical dilation, which I did behind the privacy of a curtain on what they called the 'VE bed'. She was fully dilated and a baby was indeed ready to come, at +3 station, which means it is basically one push away! We were off to delivery room 4, through the double doors and down the corridor with the baby treatment room at the end.
It was decided that I would facilitate the delivery, Alex would watch and a midwife would supervise within earshot if we needed her. I was terrified, as my only experience of twin births so far involve many machines, many doctors, lots of equipment, at least 2 midwives, and "ideally" an epidural. All I had were my two hands, a metal bed, a rubber mat, a bucket, some injectable drugs to control bleeding, and a woman who was ready to push her baby ('s) out!
My prediction on the baby being about one push away was correct. After it was out, crying in all its glory, the midwife and I both assessed the woman's abdomen and determined that it (thankfully) did not contain another baby. The mother seemed very happy with this news as well. I don't know if the fact that she already had 2 children had anything to do with it ;)
The day before had been an intense days, with Alex and I both facilitating three births each and witnessing several more, including some complications and one footling breech birth. We were hot and tired and still a bit shell-shocked. So after the twins-that-turned-out-not-to-be we left to find some coconuts for lunch and bring them back for the staff.
Coconuts here are more delicious than anything I have tasted in a long time. After using a straw to drink the copious amount of amazingly sweet and tastes-like-its-good-for-you water inside (which, I have been informed, has actually been used as IV fluid in times when desperate measures need to be taken and saline fluid is not available), the coconut is smashed on any rock or hard thing you can find and the creamy white flesh scooped out with a spoon, or your hands (don't forget the sanitizer!) if you don't have access to proper cutlery. They are so filling and refreshing, they almost make for an entire meal - especially in the heat when the last thing you feel like doing is eating anything!
So it honestly did turn out to be a good day in the end. I didn't attend any more births but hung out with some labouring women and midwives for a few hours in the afternoon before heading off for a cold drink in the amazingly air-conditioned ex-pat cafe in town (where all the white people hide during the hottest hours of the day...)
After facilitating 6 births in 3 days I was happy to leave early and take a few hours to myself in the afternoon. The hospital staff are so incredibly supportive and caring, and were very happy for me to head away early as well.
I took some time to reflect on how fortunate I am to be here. To experience a different culture and a different way of life, birth, death..Although I am terrified of catching everything from Hepatitis to Dengue Fever to everything in between, I am so grateful that I can be confident and sure that God has brought me here with a purpose in mind. If I was not sure of that fact I think it would be much more challenging. But at every opportunity possible He is reminding me that He is good and that He can be trusted (I feel badly that I still need such constant reminders, but it's true..). I think He has been preparing my heart and mind for this adventure for a long time. I often look around at the hospital, at women birthing on what needs to be an efficient production line (3000-4000 births a year!), at the rubber mats being hosed down between deliveries (not much is thought of hygiene here), and at the blood I am rinsing off of my hands and feet every few hours (flipflops/jandals are normal footwear on shift!), and just shake my head in disbelief that I am actually here doing this! It is not something I would have or could have had the courage to do even a year ago. And so I am grateful for the reminders that not only does God care, but that He loves me more than I love myself and He has plans in store for my life and my abilities that are more exciting than anything I could come up with!
I was needing some reassurance the other day after a particularly shocking encounter with a larger amount of blood that I would have liked to be covered in. There was nothing I could do about it at the time, and my over-anxious mind was going crazy with the potential ramifications of who knows what blood-born bacteria and disease I could have been exposed to.
I am not one for the whole "flipping open the bible and verses jumping out at you" thing as I've found it to be a bit cliche and not something I've experienced with any real conviction. But after that incident I came home and literally flicked on my 'bible app' and without so much as a search or turn of the page I read these words that Jesus spoke to his followers:
"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Luke 12:6-7)
...You mean I don't have to be afraid? I can actually trust that God cares for me and will protect me? Why do I have to learn this lesson new again every single day!?
Great is His patience and faithfulness, and so thankful is my weak mind and heart!
*The small baby we saw in the morning had died the night before, being only 28 weeks (ish) gestation and with no Pediatrician available. Even if there was one, there is not the capacity to care for such small infants in the neonatal unit here, and most born before about 33 weeks do not survive.
.I delivered (and yes for those birth-fanatics out there I am using this term intentionally..I will explain why in a later post) a baby on Wednesday that was about 31 or 32 weeks, the mother was unsure and she had had no antenatal care. She was admitted to hospital two days before the baby was born with Malaria. Apparently this is a common cause of preterm birth in the tropics. Anyway, the baby fell into my hands and I was extremely shocked at its size..a tiny baby boy. It was not obvious on abdonimal palpation that it was so small. He was able to stay skin-to-skin with its mother and cried vigorously right away - a great sign! We were able to drip feed him some colostrum from the mothers breast before he was taken to the neonatal unit. I stopped by the next day and he appeared to be doing well. Maybe he will be a lucky one - only time will tell.
...I walked in the labour ward on the morning of Friday, the 18th of October 2013 tentatively optimistic about what the day would have in store, armed with insect repellant and hand sanitizer. I had already had two full days of overwhelming orientation to birth in the Pacific Islands. I had assumed that being within a few short weeks of formally finishing my midwifery training would have me at least somewhat prepared for what I would find on this placement. I expected to be working somewhat independently, and under somewhat challenging circumstances.
It turns out "somewhat" is the understatement of the year. I determined quickly that a routine of sanitizing and insect-repelling every hour or after every birth (depending on which came first) would protect my OCD-inclined mind if nothing else. I also became exceedingly grateful for every minute of my formal and informal midwifery training within the first hour of my experience at this particular base hospital.
..On this particular morning I pushed open the sticky double doors, dodged the nighttime nurse aid who was mopping up a bit of a spill, and saw my colleague-of-sorts, a medical student from Australia in his last year of training who had arrived just days before me, and was certainly just as culture shocked. He was at the end of the delivery ward corridor, staring blankly through the glass window into the baby treatment room. I joined him and said good-morning, while peering through the smudged glass myself. I saw what appeared to be an extremely small infant wrapped in too-big blankets, left under a heater beside an oxygen mask. It was impossible to tell if it was breathing but in all honesty I didn't really want to know if it wasn't*. Alex looked at me and raised his eyebrows questioningly. I shrugged and turned around, heading back down the corridor of delivery rooms, toward the First Stage room where women labour together while waiting their turn to give birth. Alex followed and on our way we could hear and see and smell post-delivery damage-control and suturing in progress..It was 8:30 am, already unbearably hot, and my stomach turned....And, to borrow from author Jane Yeadon, "not for the first time in a career on which I was so determined, I wondered why on earth I was pursuing it".
We made it down to the First Stage room and opened the double doors to find about 4 women sprawled on plastic covered mattresses, a ceiling fan whirring overhead, and blood splattered all over the floor. We looked at each other and had to laugh.
"Well, what a great way to start a day!" Alex chimed with an I'm-so-overwhelmed-I-dont-know-what-else-to-say smile.
"We better go get changed and join the fun..." I grumbled as we dispersed.
After we were dressed, sanitized, and the insects were repelled, we returned to the first stage room. One of the woman labouring was carrying suspected twins. Neither she nor the midwives were sure, or seemed to care much one way or the other. Alex and I did not understand this laid back attitude toward what she could potentially be carrying in her uterus and we attempted in our recently trained naiveness to figure it out. I relied on my abdominal palpation skills and Alex dragged out an old sonogram machine he was sure he could get working well enough to detect twins on scan. While we were mucking around with all of this, the woman informed one of the midwives she was ready to give birth. The midwife instructed me to check her cervical dilation, which I did behind the privacy of a curtain on what they called the 'VE bed'. She was fully dilated and a baby was indeed ready to come, at +3 station, which means it is basically one push away! We were off to delivery room 4, through the double doors and down the corridor with the baby treatment room at the end.
It was decided that I would facilitate the delivery, Alex would watch and a midwife would supervise within earshot if we needed her. I was terrified, as my only experience of twin births so far involve many machines, many doctors, lots of equipment, at least 2 midwives, and "ideally" an epidural. All I had were my two hands, a metal bed, a rubber mat, a bucket, some injectable drugs to control bleeding, and a woman who was ready to push her baby ('s) out!
My prediction on the baby being about one push away was correct. After it was out, crying in all its glory, the midwife and I both assessed the woman's abdomen and determined that it (thankfully) did not contain another baby. The mother seemed very happy with this news as well. I don't know if the fact that she already had 2 children had anything to do with it ;)
The day before had been an intense days, with Alex and I both facilitating three births each and witnessing several more, including some complications and one footling breech birth. We were hot and tired and still a bit shell-shocked. So after the twins-that-turned-out-not-to-be we left to find some coconuts for lunch and bring them back for the staff.
Coconuts here are more delicious than anything I have tasted in a long time. After using a straw to drink the copious amount of amazingly sweet and tastes-like-its-good-for-you water inside (which, I have been informed, has actually been used as IV fluid in times when desperate measures need to be taken and saline fluid is not available), the coconut is smashed on any rock or hard thing you can find and the creamy white flesh scooped out with a spoon, or your hands (don't forget the sanitizer!) if you don't have access to proper cutlery. They are so filling and refreshing, they almost make for an entire meal - especially in the heat when the last thing you feel like doing is eating anything!
So it honestly did turn out to be a good day in the end. I didn't attend any more births but hung out with some labouring women and midwives for a few hours in the afternoon before heading off for a cold drink in the amazingly air-conditioned ex-pat cafe in town (where all the white people hide during the hottest hours of the day...)
After facilitating 6 births in 3 days I was happy to leave early and take a few hours to myself in the afternoon. The hospital staff are so incredibly supportive and caring, and were very happy for me to head away early as well.
I took some time to reflect on how fortunate I am to be here. To experience a different culture and a different way of life, birth, death..Although I am terrified of catching everything from Hepatitis to Dengue Fever to everything in between, I am so grateful that I can be confident and sure that God has brought me here with a purpose in mind. If I was not sure of that fact I think it would be much more challenging. But at every opportunity possible He is reminding me that He is good and that He can be trusted (I feel badly that I still need such constant reminders, but it's true..). I think He has been preparing my heart and mind for this adventure for a long time. I often look around at the hospital, at women birthing on what needs to be an efficient production line (3000-4000 births a year!), at the rubber mats being hosed down between deliveries (not much is thought of hygiene here), and at the blood I am rinsing off of my hands and feet every few hours (flipflops/jandals are normal footwear on shift!), and just shake my head in disbelief that I am actually here doing this! It is not something I would have or could have had the courage to do even a year ago. And so I am grateful for the reminders that not only does God care, but that He loves me more than I love myself and He has plans in store for my life and my abilities that are more exciting than anything I could come up with!
I was needing some reassurance the other day after a particularly shocking encounter with a larger amount of blood that I would have liked to be covered in. There was nothing I could do about it at the time, and my over-anxious mind was going crazy with the potential ramifications of who knows what blood-born bacteria and disease I could have been exposed to.
I am not one for the whole "flipping open the bible and verses jumping out at you" thing as I've found it to be a bit cliche and not something I've experienced with any real conviction. But after that incident I came home and literally flicked on my 'bible app' and without so much as a search or turn of the page I read these words that Jesus spoke to his followers:
"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Luke 12:6-7)
...You mean I don't have to be afraid? I can actually trust that God cares for me and will protect me? Why do I have to learn this lesson new again every single day!?
Great is His patience and faithfulness, and so thankful is my weak mind and heart!
*The small baby we saw in the morning had died the night before, being only 28 weeks (ish) gestation and with no Pediatrician available. Even if there was one, there is not the capacity to care for such small infants in the neonatal unit here, and most born before about 33 weeks do not survive.
.I delivered (and yes for those birth-fanatics out there I am using this term intentionally..I will explain why in a later post) a baby on Wednesday that was about 31 or 32 weeks, the mother was unsure and she had had no antenatal care. She was admitted to hospital two days before the baby was born with Malaria. Apparently this is a common cause of preterm birth in the tropics. Anyway, the baby fell into my hands and I was extremely shocked at its size..a tiny baby boy. It was not obvious on abdonimal palpation that it was so small. He was able to stay skin-to-skin with its mother and cried vigorously right away - a great sign! We were able to drip feed him some colostrum from the mothers breast before he was taken to the neonatal unit. I stopped by the next day and he appeared to be doing well. Maybe he will be a lucky one - only time will tell.
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