birth

I don't really know what I'm setting out to say here, but I've been thinking about the Christmas story from a different angle recently. But let me backtrack...

I finished working at the hospital last week, spending my last 5 days in the labor ward. This was probably my favorite place because the labor ward is the one place in a hospital people come for a usually happy occasion versus having an unexpected tragedy or sickness. 

In certain situations it's almost comical how not-shy I am, meaning I found myself giving laboring mamas backrubs and advice, directed nursing students with jobs to do, and delivered 3 babies (something that was on my life list of things to do). I've seen and participated in births before but being the one who facilitates the passage from one reality to the next for a new baby's life is breathtaking. 

You've probably heard it said that birth is beautiful. Yes, birth is beautiful....but not particularly pretty. It involves hard work, pain, and oh-so-many different body fluids in plenty. 

 I loved watching the midwives because they have more autonomy than most nurses here and it gives them a confidence in the way they work. When they examine their gravid patient it's as if the big belly becomes their canvas they will work a masterpiece upon... Slowly rubbing their hands together first to banish cold fingers, then methodically and purposefully massaging, pressing, and feeling that belly to divine a baby head, back, rump...  These midwives don't have tocodynamometers or bedside ultrasounds. Their sole tool is a tin cone - one side is put against the pregnant belly while the midwife presses her ear against the other side to hear the "Thump-thump-Thump-thump-Thump-thump" of a yet unborn, quickly beating heart. 

The miracle of life, indeed. Watching babies delivered here in Uganda was both fascinating and scary not necessarily because of what they do, but because I know what they lack, as compared to the American labor and delivery process. These midwives seem to go in almost empty handed when you consider the plethora of complications that "could" happen. I had to remind myself several times that I'm a staunch supporter of "natural" childbirth and that women have been having babies for centuries.....which brings me back to where I started - Christmas, the birth of baby Jesus.

I've heard that Mary was probably only in her teens. I'm just trying to imagine what it must have been like for her - dealing with the severe body-image disturbances of pregnancy when she hadn't even really reached womanhood yet. As if that was not enough, she was away from home in a dirty place meant for animals. Who helped her when the moment to deliver came? As far as I can tell the Bible doesn't mention anyone else besides Mary and Joseph...and most expectant fathers I've come across aren't exactly the picture of composure, let alone ready to take the position of midwife. 

I don't really have new or profound thoughts here, I'm just thinking out loud...It's just that I find it equally breathtaking that God would choose to have his Son BORN - to enter the world in a potentially perilous and undeniably messy process - that to me is a divine miracle and mystery. 

Luke 2: ⁴So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. ⁵He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. ⁶While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, ⁷and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.