"Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised." Job 1:21
I was reading this verse during my morning devotional this morning, and little did I know how much I would need to depend on it for the trials that would be faced today. I don't think I have every felt so helpless and so overwhelmed with grief than what I experienced today.
Yesterday, a baby born at 36 weeks who had been doing well, suddenly became very hypoxic (low oxygen saturations). We have one ventilator for the NICU at Tenwek and thankfully was available for this baby. Unfortunately, despite maximum settings on the ventilator we were unable to achieve adequate oxygenation in this baby. I watched him as his heart rates slowly drifted down overnight. I noticed how his pink color slowly began to turn purple, first around his mouth, then his extremities, and soon involving his entire body. Throughout the night I unhooked him from the ventilator to perform manual bagging, but this was really just vain effort. I decided to lay down for a few hours since I had nothing more to offer this baby. Without oxygen there is no way he would survive. We do not have the more advanced ventilators and medications that might save this baby here.
This morning when I went to check on him I was overcome. He was blue and ice cold. I picked him up and his body was completely lifeless, literally hanging in my arms like a rag doll. I've honestly never held a baby that was so dead. It was shocking to me. What makes it harder is that even as I write this, the baby is still breathing on his own and maintaining a heart rate. But he is brain dead and essentially lifeless.
As I walked through the NICU, I rounded on at least six other babies that suffered from birth asphyxia, all of whom are neurologically devastated. At the same time there was a 700 gram pre-term baby who was also desaturating and whose heart rates were falling. We have no surfactant here to give this baby, so again, I have nothing to offer this baby. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with a feeling of helplessness. I was then called to the operating room for a cesarean section. The nurse who called me could not give me any information on the gestation of the baby, the indication for c-section, or the history of the mother. Before the baby was even born this nurse was telling me about another baby born earlier this morning whose heart rates were poor and who was small for his gestation. But again, she could tell me nothing more. I felt so angry and frustrated! Why could no one give me more information? Yesterday, a baby showed up at the door of the NICU literally thrusted into my hands and was barely breathing. I did not know where this baby came from or what had happened. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to run away from the hospital and get a breath of fresh air. I wanted a sense of control.
I didn't realize that this anger I was feeling was really just a defense mechanism until I ran into an OB/Gyn here who asked me how I was doing and I broke down in tears. Once I started crying I just couldn't stop. I felt so defeated at that moment. What was I doing here? Why couldn't I help more? Thankfully I had been invited over to another physician's home this afternoon. While I was there he, and several others, reminded me that ultimately Jesus is the one who heals. As it says on Tenwek's front sign, "We Treat, Jesus Heals". God has not called me here to treat these patients, he has called me here to show them Jesus.
I continued to cry, but being surrounded by people who knew exactly how I was feeling at that moment was so healing for me. It gave me enough strength to return to the hospital and face the rest of the day.
The mother who had given birth to the precious boy I described above is merely 21 years old, and she has already lost 3 intrauterine pregnancies. This current pregnancy was complicated by pre-eclampsia and the baby likely aspirated meconium. Last night when I began the process of telling Betsy (mother) how sick her baby was, she was very flat and showed no emotion. I think she had detached herself from loving him because of the loss of her three previous pregnancies. This afternoon, however, when I went to tell her that her baby was dead, she saw me enter the room and she immediately covered her head with a shall and started sobbing. She cried out in anguish, saying "this pain is unbearable". I held her and I cried right next to her. I prayed for her; that through this pain and suffering she would not be angry with God but that God would somehow give her peace and that He would cover her in his infinite love. I reminded her that her baby boy had been called to heaven but that even his short life had a purpose. When she stopped crying she told me that she had been planning to commit suicide that day. She could not bear the loss of another child and she could not bear the thought of telling her husband. But now God has given her strength to endure. And then she told me, "God gave me this baby boy, and now he has taken him away from me, but He is a good God." At that moment I was reminded of my readings in Job this morning. All of Job's possessions and even his family were taken away from him in one instant, but Job still praised the name of God.
I was reminded today of God's sovereignty and my lack of control. All I can do is offer what I have, but ultimately it is He that heals. My purpose here is not to just treat the sick, but to lead the blind to Jesus Christ.
I was reading this verse during my morning devotional this morning, and little did I know how much I would need to depend on it for the trials that would be faced today. I don't think I have every felt so helpless and so overwhelmed with grief than what I experienced today.
Yesterday, a baby born at 36 weeks who had been doing well, suddenly became very hypoxic (low oxygen saturations). We have one ventilator for the NICU at Tenwek and thankfully was available for this baby. Unfortunately, despite maximum settings on the ventilator we were unable to achieve adequate oxygenation in this baby. I watched him as his heart rates slowly drifted down overnight. I noticed how his pink color slowly began to turn purple, first around his mouth, then his extremities, and soon involving his entire body. Throughout the night I unhooked him from the ventilator to perform manual bagging, but this was really just vain effort. I decided to lay down for a few hours since I had nothing more to offer this baby. Without oxygen there is no way he would survive. We do not have the more advanced ventilators and medications that might save this baby here.
This morning when I went to check on him I was overcome. He was blue and ice cold. I picked him up and his body was completely lifeless, literally hanging in my arms like a rag doll. I've honestly never held a baby that was so dead. It was shocking to me. What makes it harder is that even as I write this, the baby is still breathing on his own and maintaining a heart rate. But he is brain dead and essentially lifeless.
He was blue and ice cold. I picked him up and his body was completely lifeless, literally hanging in my arms like a rag doll.
As I walked through the NICU, I rounded on at least six other babies that suffered from birth asphyxia, all of whom are neurologically devastated. At the same time there was a 700 gram pre-term baby who was also desaturating and whose heart rates were falling. We have no surfactant here to give this baby, so again, I have nothing to offer this baby. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with a feeling of helplessness. I was then called to the operating room for a cesarean section. The nurse who called me could not give me any information on the gestation of the baby, the indication for c-section, or the history of the mother. Before the baby was even born this nurse was telling me about another baby born earlier this morning whose heart rates were poor and who was small for his gestation. But again, she could tell me nothing more. I felt so angry and frustrated! Why could no one give me more information? Yesterday, a baby showed up at the door of the NICU literally thrusted into my hands and was barely breathing. I did not know where this baby came from or what had happened. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to run away from the hospital and get a breath of fresh air. I wanted a sense of control.
I didn't realize that this anger I was feeling was really just a defense mechanism until I ran into an OB/Gyn here who asked me how I was doing and I broke down in tears. Once I started crying I just couldn't stop. I felt so defeated at that moment. What was I doing here? Why couldn't I help more? Thankfully I had been invited over to another physician's home this afternoon. While I was there he, and several others, reminded me that ultimately Jesus is the one who heals. As it says on Tenwek's front sign, "We Treat, Jesus Heals". God has not called me here to treat these patients, he has called me here to show them Jesus.
"We Treat, Jesus Heals". God has not called me here to treat these patients, he has called me here to show them Jesus.
I continued to cry, but being surrounded by people who knew exactly how I was feeling at that moment was so healing for me. It gave me enough strength to return to the hospital and face the rest of the day.
The mother who had given birth to the precious boy I described above is merely 21 years old, and she has already lost 3 intrauterine pregnancies. This current pregnancy was complicated by pre-eclampsia and the baby likely aspirated meconium. Last night when I began the process of telling Betsy (mother) how sick her baby was, she was very flat and showed no emotion. I think she had detached herself from loving him because of the loss of her three previous pregnancies. This afternoon, however, when I went to tell her that her baby was dead, she saw me enter the room and she immediately covered her head with a shall and started sobbing. She cried out in anguish, saying "this pain is unbearable". I held her and I cried right next to her. I prayed for her; that through this pain and suffering she would not be angry with God but that God would somehow give her peace and that He would cover her in his infinite love. I reminded her that her baby boy had been called to heaven but that even his short life had a purpose. When she stopped crying she told me that she had been planning to commit suicide that day. She could not bear the loss of another child and she could not bear the thought of telling her husband. But now God has given her strength to endure. And then she told me, "God gave me this baby boy, and now he has taken him away from me, but He is a good God." At that moment I was reminded of my readings in Job this morning. All of Job's possessions and even his family were taken away from him in one instant, but Job still praised the name of God.
I was reminded today of God's sovereignty and my lack of control. All I can do is offer what I have, but ultimately it is He that heals. My purpose here is not to just treat the sick, but to lead the blind to Jesus Christ.
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