Life has been... well life. I have recently moved which necessitated a new home study with Social Welfare. The home study was last Monday and went really well. So many of you were praying - thanks so much! The next matching meeting was scheduled for yesterday (Friday August 28) but it looks like it will be held today. God's will be done and may lots of precious children receive forever families!
I wanted to share with you a wonderful yet heart-breaking experience that happened just a couple of days ago. I've had to take time to really process the experience and look for God in it and how He desires to use MAF - and even me to His glory...
Last Thursday while we were having lunch there was a code one call (emergency medical flight) for a woman who had given birth to triplets just that morning. The call was coming from the other side of the country, about 45 minutes by plane 8 hours or so driving on curvy, often bumpy, mountain roads. Just the thought of a bumpy ride for a few minutes let alone 8 hours... after having just given birth to triplets *ouch* Can you even imagine it?
Justin was taking the call and asked if I would go with him - it had been a long time since I had the chance to fly along so I jumped at the opportunity. He had a small ulterior motive, as there were 3 babies and we weren't sure whether or not a nurse would be accompanying the new mom, he was hoping I'd get to hold one of the brand new babies on our return flight. He knows how my heart longs to be a mom and how much I love children of all ages.
We arrived in Mokhotlong and then I saw the new mother, she was a small woman, with wide, dark and questioning eyes. Our eyes met, I offered a smile and she shyly returned it. I greeted her in Sotho and that brightened her face just a little, but the fear was still there in her eyes.
I started to think about what the day must have been like for her. A woman who had likely not been educated as she wasn't able to speak any English, which likely means she was from a village and not from Mokhotlong at all. Students here all speak English as most of their education and textbooks are in English. So she had to travel to the hospital to have her babies, and discovers while giving birth she has 3 and not just one. I doubt she had an ultrasound or any pre-natal care for that matter. Then she hears that one of the three is very, very small 1.2 kg which is just over 2 1/2 pounds. This child, and truthfully all of her children as the other two were both just under 4 pounds each, needed medical care as they were all so very small. The two bigger babies were strapped to her held on by a blanket as is the custom here and they were able to nurse from her. I saw an IV but I'm not certain if it was attached to the mother or one of the babies as she was well covered in blankets. The nurse who did join us, was holding the third smallest baby. This baby wasn't moving, it was making no noise whatsoever, it was so very small and so very pale... it could have easily passed for Caucasian. Justin carefully got them in and fastened and I kept turning around to offer a smile and hope to catch a glimpse of these brand new Basotho children.
It was her first flight - and the first for the nurse as well. Both women looked pale at the thought that they would soon be in the air in a very loud plane. We did our best to communicate the time it would take and that I was there to offer help if it was needed. We got smiles and nods, but who knows how much they understood? We offered ear plugs for the noise... they'd never experienced them before. So many things that are so common place for me were full of wonder to them and likely fear inducing.
I found myself very worried for the smallest child on our flight home. Every so often the nurse would pat the baby on the back as if trying to wake it, she had also been using a small mask over the baby's nose and mouth attached to a bottle she would squeeze to force air in. She had been squeezing it for the first 20 or so minutes - and then she stopped.
All I could think was, "Dear God please help that little one make it, why isn't she squeezing it anymore, shouldn't she be squeezing it still???"
When we landed I tried to ask the nurse the baby's condition but she didn't want to answer with it's mother nearby... but there was a knowing look we shared. Justin had seen the baby when helping her exit and had the same look too. You know that look of sadness and resignation. He kindly offered, "I was really hoping you would get to hold one of the babies, but maybe it is better you didn't... I'm really not sure that one made it."
Our guys deal with death all the time - sometimes before they can get there with the plane, sometimes in the hospital after we've flown a patient that was just beyond saving, in spite of the time saved getting them to the help they need. And sometimes like this day, the patient dies while in the plane. It is an amazing burden these pilots carry. Flying with excellence knowing lives depend on it, and sometimes witnessing those lives passing into eternity. I so appreciate the hard work these guys do everyday - to the glory of God.
I very much look forward to the day when there will be no more language barriers, no more death and no more tears.
Justin was taking the call and asked if I would go with him - it had been a long time since I had the chance to fly along so I jumped at the opportunity. He had a small ulterior motive, as there were 3 babies and we weren't sure whether or not a nurse would be accompanying the new mom, he was hoping I'd get to hold one of the brand new babies on our return flight. He knows how my heart longs to be a mom and how much I love children of all ages.
We arrived in Mokhotlong and then I saw the new mother, she was a small woman, with wide, dark and questioning eyes. Our eyes met, I offered a smile and she shyly returned it. I greeted her in Sotho and that brightened her face just a little, but the fear was still there in her eyes.
I started to think about what the day must have been like for her. A woman who had likely not been educated as she wasn't able to speak any English, which likely means she was from a village and not from Mokhotlong at all. Students here all speak English as most of their education and textbooks are in English. So she had to travel to the hospital to have her babies, and discovers while giving birth she has 3 and not just one. I doubt she had an ultrasound or any pre-natal care for that matter. Then she hears that one of the three is very, very small 1.2 kg which is just over 2 1/2 pounds. This child, and truthfully all of her children as the other two were both just under 4 pounds each, needed medical care as they were all so very small. The two bigger babies were strapped to her held on by a blanket as is the custom here and they were able to nurse from her. I saw an IV but I'm not certain if it was attached to the mother or one of the babies as she was well covered in blankets. The nurse who did join us, was holding the third smallest baby. This baby wasn't moving, it was making no noise whatsoever, it was so very small and so very pale... it could have easily passed for Caucasian. Justin carefully got them in and fastened and I kept turning around to offer a smile and hope to catch a glimpse of these brand new Basotho children.
It was her first flight - and the first for the nurse as well. Both women looked pale at the thought that they would soon be in the air in a very loud plane. We did our best to communicate the time it would take and that I was there to offer help if it was needed. We got smiles and nods, but who knows how much they understood? We offered ear plugs for the noise... they'd never experienced them before. So many things that are so common place for me were full of wonder to them and likely fear inducing.
I found myself very worried for the smallest child on our flight home. Every so often the nurse would pat the baby on the back as if trying to wake it, she had also been using a small mask over the baby's nose and mouth attached to a bottle she would squeeze to force air in. She had been squeezing it for the first 20 or so minutes - and then she stopped.
All I could think was, "Dear God please help that little one make it, why isn't she squeezing it anymore, shouldn't she be squeezing it still???"
When we landed I tried to ask the nurse the baby's condition but she didn't want to answer with it's mother nearby... but there was a knowing look we shared. Justin had seen the baby when helping her exit and had the same look too. You know that look of sadness and resignation. He kindly offered, "I was really hoping you would get to hold one of the babies, but maybe it is better you didn't... I'm really not sure that one made it."
Our guys deal with death all the time - sometimes before they can get there with the plane, sometimes in the hospital after we've flown a patient that was just beyond saving, in spite of the time saved getting them to the help they need. And sometimes like this day, the patient dies while in the plane. It is an amazing burden these pilots carry. Flying with excellence knowing lives depend on it, and sometimes witnessing those lives passing into eternity. I so appreciate the hard work these guys do everyday - to the glory of God.
I very much look forward to the day when there will be no more language barriers, no more death and no more tears.
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