Acacia Joy

"Jesus, help me!" she cried out. "Save my life, Jesus! I need you."

Sweat poured off the mama's body, her eyes were starting to fade, roll back, squint, then a bad contraction would bring her back. Her skin was cold and she was laying in a pool of her own blood. With each new contraction, her large belly would squeeze, like a giant fist tightening, tightening, tightening, but the baby would not come. Eliza moved to another position, contorted in some new way, but nothing worked. Her baby was stuck. Not only stuck, but we had all seen the chunks and blood clots that had come out with the meconium-filled amniotic fluid. The placenta was detached. There was no fetal heart rate. The baby was dead inside her.

We told the family, including the laboring mother, to expect a stillbirth. I mentally prepared myself to see a dead baby. The resuscitation equipment was nearby, and if the baby came out soon we might be able to save it. But with the obstruction, there was everything working against this little one and nothing working for it. As the labor went on and on and on, we realized it was too late. Nothing in the natural world could save this baby's life.

"God, our hope is in you," I whispered. "We know you can heal. You've done it before... even if you don't God, we will still praise you, we will still know you are good... but please, Lord. You are all we have now. Please do something."

But now, as the heavy bleeding continued and the birth could not progress, we were worried also for the mother. Very worried. In the States she would have been sent in for emergency C-Section hours ago, but in developing countries the resources are limited, and in this case, Ceasarean was not an option.

My leader insisted that Acacia and I switch out with two other midwives and get lunch. I wasn't hungry. It made me sick to leave the mother. We hurried to lunch so that we could be back as quickly as possible. My thought was, if she is going to die, I want her to die in my arms. I want to be there. I want her to die with dignity and love. Any time away from her felt too long.

"Come on, let's get back in there," Acacia nudged me. I didn't need convincing.

When we were almost to the labor room we heard someone say, "She's progressing! I see the head!"

Sure enough, the head was getting ready to come. This alone was a major relief. One way or another, Eliza's labor would be over soon.

With all the energy she had left, she started to push, and this time each push brought the baby forth. The head crowned and we all cheered her on, then the head was born, then the body finally came out of her. Eliza was exhausted. We all said, "Welcome in Jesus name!" but hesitantly, knowing the baby was probably dead. It was a girl. The midwife put her on her mother's stomach and started to rub her off. We all held our breaths. Then- a twitch! Just a small movement in the face, then the baby girl's face contorted, and she screamed!

Suddenly the room was full of cheers and laughter and dancing. Acacia listened to her chest with a stethoscope.

"Strong pulse and respiration!" She announced through tears. More cheers went up, and we heard the grandmothers in the next room screaming and laughing. They were jumping up and down holding each other, soon to join us, along with the aunties and sisters who all piled into the labor room to celebrate with us. No one could stop the tears coming. I wiped my eyes with my gloved hands and reached out my arms to take the squirming bundle, the very much alive baby girl. Her mother, who seemed to instantly revive with the joy of meeting her daughter, sat up just minutes after delivering and walked herself to the recovery room. We had prepared ourselves for two deaths that day, and what we found instead was a double miracle!

I held that baby girl for one peaceful minute as everyone piled out of the room, tears rolling into my smile, and I whispered to her, "You are dearly loved, miracle child." I thanked God, as the overwhelming gratefulness came in waves, Then I handed the baby to her auntie, the one who had been in the back of the room for most of the delivery, watching and waiting, unable to do more than pray and offer tea to strengthen the mother between contractions. She smiled at me with thanks and tears in her eyes that matched mine. We were together in our joy.

We celebrated all over again in the recovery room, with hugs and kisses and laughing and dancing, and a slew of photos with the mother and baby. Light shone in through the windows and a breeze played through the little room, and Jesus was there with us, doting on the precious newborn and holding her mother and whispering to us, "Well done. You knew I wouldn't leave you, and I never did."

The baby was named Acacia Joy.