Let Her Cry

Let her cry.

Her baby is dying and her husband doesn't care a
bit. She's the only one who cares at this point
and you want her to quit with the tears.

Let them flow I say.

I'm so glad that SOMEONE'S heart is hurting because this baby is hurting.

Sarah Sexton, one of the SM's from last year,
reminded me that God loves each of these children
more than we ever could. Even if the father of
the baby here on earth could care less about the
child, the Father in heaven is caring his heart
out. He LOVES the baby. Really loves him.

Dr. Howe (Ted…Ansley's dad) is here
visiting. Ansley, he, and I all went to the
market earlier in the day. As we were walking
the dirt path home, a woman passed us. She had
her baby stiffly propped up and over her shoulder
and as we looked closer, the babies eyes were
just rolled back into his head and his little
mouth foamed with saliva. His seizing made Dr.
Howe's heart break. I could tell.

As I walked back I felt hopeless for
that baby and also anxious about the night shift
I was going to work that night. This baby that
we followed back to the hospital might die under my watch.

I got to work and sure enough, there
he was. A sweet small baby with big legs. His
mom layed on the plastic mattress with him. The
doctor comes and decides to do a lumbar puncture
testing for Meningitis. Three dollars. We put
together that puzzle of finding the money. Your
friend will give you twenty-five cents, you will
trade in one medicine that you bought a lot of
already, then you will put your phone as credit
until you can search for the
rest….somewhere. The baby's mom couldn't watch
and I took over holding the baby in a little C
shape. while the doctor did the puncture. And
the spinal fluid came. But instead of clear, it
was murky gray-a sure sign of Meningitis. More money searching.
We came to give the mother the
results of the test and as my headlamp dimly lit
up her face I saw that there were little rivers on her cheeks.
Dr. Jaque immediately laid into her.
" Stop this crying! What is this?!" he mocked
with his finger motioning tears down the
face. "What, you think this crying is going to
do something for your baby?! Give your baby
milk," he tapped at the mothers breasts, "and put
sugar on his tongue…and QUIT crying!" The
mother scrabbled to follow orders that she didn't
really even understand because she didn't even speak French.
I couldn't bite my tongue any
longer. "Why can't she cry?! You don't like
crying? She doesn't know what to do for her baby. She has no idea."

I went and got some other things done.

Dr. Jacque is fresh out of medical school. He
went to school in Togo, Africa and is here for
just one year. When he first arrived I was
amazed at his dedication and compassion for the
patients. But, this place has rubbed him a little raw too.

A few minutes later the doctor spoke to me in
English. "Emily, I don't want you to have a bad
impression of me." I said, "No, it's not
that. It's just that Africa is so
different." I was thankful he had started in
English because I really wanted to communicate a
certain message without scrambling for
meaning-filled words in French. "When I look at
that lady, I just think, 'Africa is hard! Her
baby has got a horrible disease that is wreaking
havoc on his little body. Let her cry!' But
in Africa, why is it that you have to be so tough
and you aren't aloud to just feel how you
feel? I mean, did you see how the woman jumped
to do every little thing you asked for her
baby. They went and bought sugar, she fed him,
they searched high and low for money. She hasn't
been to school. She doesn't know anything about
fevers, about convulsions, about
glycemia. She's helpless to do anything and
convulsions are scary. Let her cry."
He explained that he is tired of
people not searching for the health of their
children. I get that. I think we understood
each other. He also said that he hadn't thought
about her really not knowing or understanding
what would help her child. We've got to talk about these things.
The rest of the night was
hard. Two babies cried almost all night. I
can't sleep because I feel like there's something
I have to be doing…when really: it's all been
done. After all the perfusions have been hung,
after all the wet clothes have been laid on the
feverish bodies, after all the valium has been
given to stop the seizing, everything is just
left to God's larger knowledge. But when I laid
down next to Kristin in the ER, on our blanket
which padded the cement floor….not at all…..I
just kept having to get up and go to "check on"
the babies. What was I doing? Nothing! Just
going to their bedsides and maybe touching their
stomach, watching for breathing. Somehow there
was part of my own heart/conscience that needed
to be treated along with the bodies of all those
sick babies. The treatment I guess was this
absolutely useless "checking on" of the
babies. I want to be a slave to nothing. Not
even my conscience. God give us peace for the
things we are not big enough, smart enough, or
powerful enough to have control over.