I was just reading one of my favorite bloggers (one of the
few I follow), and came across this paragraph that I deeply resonated with:
“What is it that I am trying to do in this work? Is it enough
that I (possibly) change the lives some of the women I serve, individually, and
moment-by-moment? Have I done enough to encourage fellow reproductive health
providers, even when I can only count on one hand the times when I believe I
have actually done so? What have I accomplished in the past two years, and what
of that can I accept into my heart and good and worthwhile, and what can I let
go as worthy work though unsuccessful (as far as I can tell)? What am I able to
do in this time, and am I really doing all that I can? How do I reflect on what
has happened so far, and move forward?”
This is written by a midwife working in urban America, yet
what struck me is the similarity of my feelings… even when I am hundreds of
miles away, in a country where XX times as many women die every day due to
pregnancy related complications. BUT—what is so incredible to me is the calling
of this profession. Midwifery asks so much of you--- for you to have the
knowledge and skills, but also to really care about the outcome. To have
compassion, to care about each woman you see.
This is really hard some days. Today was one of those days.
I was up at 6:30 am, had a meeting at a local clinic at 8, then went to another
clinic for a visit, and got to the birth center at 10am. There were 50 patients
waiting, and a woman had just delivered, with two of the midwives caring for
her and the babe. To add to that, there is an epidemic of this new mosquito
borne illness called Chickunguya, which causes high fevers and severe joint
pain, and the ministry of health is expecting for 50% of the population to get
it. So as soon as I got there I did my little education talk on Chikungunya,
checked the temp of all the pregnant mommas who thought they may have it, and
started seeing patients.
The hours went by slowly, as my fatigue set in (in 86
degree with 100% humidity) and my blood sugar dropped, I had to remind myself
why each patient deserved a smile and all the time she needed. One by one the
postpartum visits came in, as I measured and weighed their babies, observed
them breastfeeding, addressed any problems. It is seriously one of my favorite
things, to do education with moms and newborns. And it is exhausting… cause
each time I want to give more of myself, more to them. I want to give them that
bit of information that will help them better understand their newborn, better
know how to care for them.
And each time those same questions lie in the back of my
head, “Is it
enough that I (possibly) change the lives some of the women I serve,
individually, and moment-by-moment? What am I able to do in this time,
am I really doing all that I can?”
I LOVE THIS WORK. Clearly I mean it (it is in caps). And
some days being in Haiti doing this work makes me feel very alone in it… but
when I read blogs and book and quotes (and have conversations) about midwifery
(and with midwives), I am reminded that THIS is the work. That you care too
much. That you question if it is enough. That you want women to have better
care, and better opportunities, and better lives. And that will never go away
(or so I pray).
And I know this isn’t only true for midwives. I know it is
true for my wonderful roommates who have given so much of their lives to women
and their children here in Haiti… and to soo many healthcare providers who lay
in bed at night thinking of some “stranger” they took care of that day.
I guess this is just my way of saying that I think it is
okay to have questions. To have doubts. It probably helps us see people as
people, rather than as a problem or a burden.
So I will accept it and let go of it, All in thanks.
Until I start a new day, and meet a new person to care too much about.
-Leah
