Breech in the Jungle with a Cigarette

Underage Smokers

She squatted, she smoked, she grimaced as the contractions came and went. She wore only a ragged loincloth. Under her was dirt and above her were the stars. 

This is where she was going to have her baby,  The neighbor kids giggled as they lit their jungle "cigarettes."  They weren't allowed to have the tabacco until they were at least 12, so until then, they wrapped random jungle plants in dried banana leaves and smoked them. 

I was with my friend Kira on the night her 4th child was to be born.  I had awakened to a rapping on the bamboo walls of my house by her husband telling me it was time. 

We headed out to a little spot her husband had cleared in the jungle.  He lit a fire, stuck a stick (to hold while pushing in the squat position) in the ground, and they laid down some banana leaves.  Now the baby could come.

The wind was strong that night and we were all cold.  In this tribe, there are no birth specialists.  A woman in labor is attended by whoever happens to be around.  Tonight it was me and her mother in law and a bunch of kids.  I had brought a clean razor blade, a baby hat, and clean baby blankets.  I was hoping for a good outcome, as it seemed that a lot of births here ended in tragedy.

Kira grunted and repositioned herself, then lifted her homemade cigarette to her lips again.  She smoked almost constantly throughout her labor.  The contractions kept getting stronger and then they pretty much stopped.

She was tired and we all decided to go back to the village and let her rest until the contractions started again.  When they started again they came fast and hard and out popped a big boy.  Bottom first. 

She rested and lit another banana leaf/tabacco cigarette.

A Breech Nightmare

This story is one I've hesitated to write about. 

It has been a couple of weeks and the images are still haunting me...beware.  If you are pregnant, please don't read this.

My heart in sharing this is to open your eyes to state maternal care around the world.

I walked into the labor and delivery ward one morning to find a teenage mom surrounded by midwives and nurses.  Something was dangling between her legs.  I attended to some ladies who were asking for tea.

After a few minutes a midwife stopped yelling at the girl and explained to me: "Her baby was breech, and she was not fully dilated when she pushed the baby out. We kept telling her not to push, but she did anyway and the baby got stuck at the head.  Now the baby is dead and it is all her fault.  It's dead and stuck there."

That is when my brain made sense of the baby's grey body that hung there.  I asked if  I could talk to the girl.  They said sure.

I held her hand. I prayed with her. She asked me if it was a boy or a girl.  I had to lift the dead baby's leg to check. No one had told her that it was a baby girl.  At this point the medical staff were mad at her and just leaving her alone with her baby half born.  She asked me to get the baby out.  I explained that I could not do that.

Finally they hooked her up to pitocin and started yanking on the baby...and yanking and yanking and yelling at the poor girl.  All the while I stroked her head, trying to be the presence of kindness in a horrific situation.

After about ten minutes of this, another midwife walked over and showed them how to hook the babies mouth with her finger and tilt the chin down while putting the other hand on the mom's belly.  The dead baby popped right out.

This poor girl was terribly damaged "down there."  While they stitched her up they gave her a lecture. It went something like..."This happened to you because you got pregnant out of wedlock, you deserve it and this is all your fault."

I came behind and tried to undo the damage.  It was just awful.  She wrapped up her dead baby, got dressed, and hobbled home a few hours later.

This has not been the "norm" here, sometimes I see a lot of kindness and skill.  But this was downright awful and disturbing  I wish that all women could be treated kindly and that all births ended happily.  But, they don't. 

They Are More that Just Statistics

This is a true story from when I lived a two day hike from any roads or maternity care. Warning: this is graphic; it may not be suitable for everyone to read.

Limaka and I sat together on the dirt, our machetes by our sides.  I twirled a piece of grass in my fingers and watched as my sons climbed trees and cut trails in the jungle.  We had been clearing the weeds around my house to keep the snakes away. 

 “My husband is dead and I had nine kids, but only one is still alive, I want you to meet her.  I’m so excited, she is pregnant and I am going to be a grandma!”   Limaka was bursting with pride as she spoke of her only living daughter, who had recently married and moved to a village 2 hours away.

I told her I would love to meet Lisi, her daughter.  But I never got the chance.

A few days later I heard that Lisi died.

This is what I gathered as to what had happened:

~ She went into pre-term labor (it seemed she was around 30 weeks)

~ The baby was a footling breech who slipped part way out.  It was stuck that way due to the cervix which was not completely dilated.

~ She tried to push for days, and she bled.  They offered to cut the baby.  She refused to let them hurt her half born child.

~They left Lisi and her baby under the house to die.  And they did.

I attended the funeral.  I sat in the smoky hut for hours with her dead body, and joined in the death wail. 

I found out the next day that I was pregnant with my fourth child.  I went to the USA where I had a doula, a midwife, a hospital that stopped my pre term labor, newborn photography, and a baby shower.

Here are some links to World Health Organization on infant and maternal mortality.

http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs333/en/ - infant

http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs348/en/index.html -maternal