Last night, I had a difficult delivery at the birth center. Sometimes birth involves life-and-death situations. All hands were on deck. One midwife from the birth center was assisting, and I'm not sure when the other two came in. Maybe when they heard shouting. Hannah was extremely sick and bedridden.
When it was all said and done, my flesh (the part of me that only desires to protect myself), wanted to run away, be finished with midwifery, close this chapter of my life and go on to something else.
Through the kindness and wisdom of those I respect, God helped me to see that His ways are higher and His plans are good. I know that the other midwives and I have grown as individuals and in solidarity because we went through the fire together. We will be better off because of that.
Once born, this baby needed extra care that the birth center could not provide, so a hospital transfer was necessary. I knew it would be a financial burden to the family. I had already purposed in my heart to help if I could. My willingness to give made an impression on the baby's father. He was extremely grateful, and even cried as he told one midwife, "Americans have never done anything like this for me before."
In the end, my desire to "run away" was replaced with thankfulness for a healthy baby who is alive and well, and thankfulness for those who walked this part of the journey with me. Through it all, I count it a blessing to have been able to reach out to the family of this baby in a special way.