One year ago today I arrived in South Africa on route to Zimbabwe...what I have learned is that "Dreams are not just meant for dreaming about 8they are mean for living!"

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Since I have been back I have been taking some time to just rest and kinda zone out a bit. I started watching the series “Lost” and there is a woman who is 9 months pregnant on the stranded island. They have a doctor, but of course they do not want to have to deliver the baby. In fact the doctor said in the first few days, “we have no IV’s or Ultra Sounds we have no way to deliver this baby”

I think I forgot to blog about the fact I delivered a baby in Mozambique… this is how it went…

I was working in a medical clinic, I was on call with the midwife who I was teaching English too in exchange she was going to teach me to catch a baby.

We got called to the clinic about 8:45pm. We arrived and a 19year old woman was there with her mother-in-law who had her own son with her who was just under two years and still nursing (culturally women start their families young and keep going….In fact I have heard that mothers do not even count that they have a child until it reaches the age of 5 since the chance of the child dying is so great.)

The clinic was dark….we had no power…we arrived wearing our head lamps and in our long African skirts. We took the woman into the clinic, the mother-in-law gathered all their things: grass mats, coloured fabrics, tin kettle and food. She would be providing food for the both of them until the baby came and they walked back to their village just 5km away.

The young girl came in and the midwife allowed me to do most of the work. We did a vaginal exam…my first and frankly I had no idea what I was feeling for but I was told it was 2cm. Then the girl started having loud contractions…I got right into Doula mode(labour coach which I am experienced as). It was amazing for the next 2 hours I supported this woman who only spoke an exclusive tribal African language, by the light of a small lantern. I could see the girl’s eyes change as she would look at me and grip my hand and move around the bed as her baby caused chasms of pain to move through her body. I wiped the beads of sweat from her dark glistening chocolate skin and I placed a cup to her parched lips for her to gather some hydration for the next wave of intensity.

Finally, she started to push naturally; I heard the change- a grunty contraction… within a few we could see head…we moved the bed up a bit I got gloves on and I got into position!

I held the squishy, gooey ball that was emerging to help her body gently release this new life and then as usual it just pops out. I could see the cord was around the neck I just swiftly moved it, it was wrapped twice and then next contraction… I caught my first baby. She was very slippery and bluish red- as they all are. I quickly gave her a bit of a wipe with the African cloth and placed the babe on mom’s chest.

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So back to the show “Lost”. Of course in good Hollywood style the woman  goes into labour when the doctor cannot come and sends some ‘unqualified’ woman to catch the baby. Exchange of words was from the laboring mother, “I am afraid” and then the women-now ‘midwife’ “I am scared too.”

Well, I burst into tears and had this memory flood me.

When we surrender our lives to do God’s will we never know what new creation he will give us to catch. There were so many times in Africa when I was afraid or felt alone and yet when I was catching this little baby I did not have any of those thoughts. Africa has changed me in ways I am only starting to see…but here is to feeling the fear and doing it anyways!

J