Now that my time at the hospital has ended, I feel I can choose a favorite memory. Like all experiences in life, they never turn out how you expect and the ones that you assume won't be profound, in fact are.
It had been weeks of tirelessly working at being accepted and welcomed by Nepali people. Day after day my efforts of being warm, caring, gentle and helpful seemed as though they had amounted to nothing. In a world where language counts for so much, I was struggling. It took 3 weeks until I had made friends with the nurses, 4 for the doctors and forever with the patients. It felt like I was wasting my time. Attitude is everything though, so I decided that I would eventually be rewarded and paid back in full. Indeed I was.
It's a blessing to have two favorite memories. Both happened without any initiation by myself. I was given a few moments break from working at being accepted.
It seemed like any other morning. I checked the patient bed list board. It was a full house. I wandered the corridors to see who was an old or new face. Then, like every other day I wandered down to delivery. I sheepishly opened the door, not knowing who was or wasn't in there. I wasn't having a particularly good morning. I was beginning to grow tired of all the effort and the lack of return. I had no idea what awaited me. As I lifted my head, this petite, worn, sun beaten woman (who was the mother of a labouring woman) quickly stepped towards me, smiled warmly and joyfully from ear to ear, and very respectfully bowed and said "namaste". That was it. In all her simple glory, she noticed, respected and welcomed me.
Another memory I can't forget was the day I saw three natural deliveries, one after the other like some crazy production line. The first woman had delivered and it was a matter of minutes until the second delivered. It was frustrating watching two very inexperienced interns attempt to deliver her baby of the second woman. She was given an episiotomy and still struggled. Fundal pressure was applied, along with a strong hand to her face. She was so strong and determined. She gave birth to a baby boy.
I was watching the first woman, who also had an episiotomy, be stitched up. It had been around 45 minutes since she received her poorly administered local an aesthetic and it was wearing off fast. I could see her face crease and body flinch. The last time I had attempted to comfort a woman in that room, I had eyes burning holes into the back of my head and ended up getting kicked out of the way. Not what I would call positive reinforcement. I have learnt to tread carefully the fine line between working with the staff how they want me to and meeting the needs of the women. In this case I couldn't watch her be alone in pain. I stood by her and calmed her for ten minutes, sweeping my hand over her head and holding her hand. My poor attempt at Nepalese meant I was only able to tell her how good she was doing and that she was finished. I genuinely don't care if I'm hated for being emotionally supportive. Those women were and are amazing, and in that moment they needed assistance to prove it. I was in the right spot at the right time, and was presented with the privilege of assisting them in doing so. I can't and won't take that for granted.
Just as the first woman was finished being stitched up, the second woman was part way through her stitches. She appeared much like the subtle face of bravery before her- creased face with an open hand reaching out. She didn't need me, but she needed something. It was beautiful. She let her guard down and I saw her pain, but she was still so strong. Once again, my terrible Nepali could barely covey the fact that she was strong and that I was proud of her. I couldn't help but wonder if she has ever heard words like that before.
The intern stitching up the second woman gave me permission to let go of her hand and watch the delivery of the third woman who had just been wheeled in. I tried to explain the concept of too many chiefs and not enough Indians. I left only for a few moments to prepare for the baby- turn on the warmer, gather gauze pads to wipe her with, find a measuring tape etc. But I knew the local was wearing off and her pain was increasing. I stayed, because in that moment, she needed me more than I needed myself, my agenda and to be another spectator at a birth. Few people have my respect quite like Nepali women.
It truly is a beautiful thing to be what you are needed, at the time when you are needed.
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