The Battle to Love

.



(end of December)

Some days are more frantic than others.
I don’t know why, but it must be a combination of things.
This particular day, the labour room was not very busy,
many open beds,
no need to rush or cut corners.... but there was such a strange tension in the room.

There was disunity among the nurses.
And I could feel it in my spirit.

One nurse in particular,
the one with the thin braids and the scowling eyes,
was doing her own thing,
taking things into her own hands,
and not communicating her actions with any of us.

It was like watching the beginning stages of a tornado.
Small swirls of flurry,
feathers being ruffled,
and as she was spinning,
she was sweeping others into the midst of her chaotic whirlwind.


I had recently started monitoring a woman that morning,
who was progressing nicely and was just moments before giving birth.
Nothing seemed to be wrong,
but the nurse with the scowl left quickly without a word,
and reappeared with a syringe.

!
whoa, whoa.
This is never a nice sign.

”The baby is not coming.” she says.
”Yes it is, it’s crowning--”

(Hey, this is my mama! What are you doing??)

She doesn't speak much English, nor does she look at me.
She breaks an ampoule of 5 IU Oxytocin, and loads the syringe.

She grasps the woman’s wrist,
stretches her arm flat
and jabs this needle into the thin skin where the arm bends.
The mother is going through a contraction.
She is getting poked with a sharp steel needle.
Try not to move your arm, mama.

I look on, watching and wishing I had the authority to stop her.

She’s trying to find that good vein where you usually draw blood from,
but she keeps missing,
and re-jabs her over and over again.

The mother,
receiving no communication as to why this treatment is being done to her,
quietly clenches her teeth
and winces.
She doesn’t make a sound, but is quickly starting to spiral into a quiet panic.

The whirlwind of nurse Tornado is hitting yet another victim.
What was a calm labour, has now been assaulted with no explanation.

Finally,
she hits the vein she was looking for,
and empties the potent oxytocin into her arm.

Then she left.


I am horrified, bewildered, angered, and shocked by what I had just seen.
So many questions...
Why?
Why make such a drastic and traumatizing move?
Why stir up a perfectly calm labour into a storm of worry and fear?

I am left with the aftermath of the situation.

A shaken mother, moments to giving birth, in her most intense, vulnerable, and painful minutes of labour.
And now she has 5 units of oxytocin in her blood. It's a powerful drug.
All at once like that?
Usually, for oxytocin therapy, 5 units is diluted with 500ml of a water-based solution and administered through a very slow drip for hours.

After the baby is born, a dose of oxytocin is usually given intra-muscularly (absorbed slower than bloodstream), but this is to help the uterus shrink back strongly and quickly,
and it's different because the baby is out by then.


I don’t understand why this action was made.
It was so... victimizing. And I felt helpless.
And oxytocin is strong stuff!

I had to take a deep breath. And ask the Lord for help.
I felt so paralyzed, and small, and violated because she just started
taking matters into her own hands,
taking my mama,
not communicating with me or even really acknowledging my presence.

How do I love her?

I did not want to have some grudge, but I was truly shaken.
Like someone took a scoop and hollowed out the inside of me.
And somehow, I was standing on two frail legs.
Left foot,
right foot,
take a step,
breathe.

God I need you.
I need your strength. I need your wisdom.

He said to take authority over
the spirit of chaos and confusion.


This terrible thing,
chaos,
confusion,
panic,
like a lingering bad smell,
did not need to dwell here.

I could open the door and bring in new fresh air.


The baby delivered, with a healthy high score,
the mother was fine,
and I did all I could to make it a low-stress birth for her.
Everything became peaceful again.



Later that day,
there were two births side by side that Whirlwind spun over to
and everyone also got worked up into a lather.

The two girls giving birth were 16 and 18,
their first pregancies,
and things just kept escalating.

It got to the point where all the nurses were shouting and being rough
and Whirlwind actually took it upon herself
to climb onto the tiny bed
and use all her force to press on the top of the girl’s uterus to push the baby out.

Hysteria.
We were all praying under our breath,
aware yet again of the spirit of chaos and fiercely praying against it.

The corner of the bed broke.

Hallelujah!
Whirlwind’s knees were right by the 18 year old’s head.
A little frightened, but they were both okay.

Everything in us was resisting the pulsing urges to snap at them,
but,
moving in the strength of the Lord,
we actively chose peace,
and showed them how well the girls were pushing
and they are strong enough to do it themselves.


The two babies did come.
They needed resuscitation, but revived well.
Praise the Lord.



After that day,
I had to sort some stuff out with God.

I had reserve against Whirlwind.
Even her face looked cruel.
When I saw her, I didn't see a beautiful human being.
I saw her in her green uniform, furrowing her brow, and being rough with the patients. I saw fundal pressure and the fear of the women.

I didn’t understand her actions, her stubbornness, her heart.
How do I love her?

So, does that mean that I love people off of what they do or don’t do?
Conditional?
I hope not.

Jesus says, Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.
It means nothing if you are able to love the people who are lovable.
Anyone can do that.

Loving your enemies is the power of God demonstrated.
It is only Jesus
who can infuse our frail, feeble, conditional love
and give us the strength to fiercly and completely
Love the unlovely.

Besides, God does not love us because we are lovely.
Our actions have nothing to do with it.


His love is unconditional,
everlasting,
pure,
true,
perfect.
It is with this Love that I can forgive and see beyond action.
It is with this Love that the kingdom comes.

”A new command I give you:
Love one another.
As I have loved you,
so you must love one another.
By this,
all men will know that you are my disciples,

if you love one another.”
(John 13:34,35)

Love is the evidence of Christ.




once again, I wrote a poem to help me process this, and seek God about the changing hospital environment.






“The Battle to Love”


the flurry
the frantic
the jabbing
the slapping
the pushing
the yelling
the angry eyes.

How can I love you?
when everything in me
wants to use quick force
push back your hand
stop you
raise my voice
and return the angry eyes.

How could you do this?

and I want to use my justice
do the quick fix

become hard
disregard love
and therefore become brittle
to the point of shattering,
worse than when I started.


But if I choose to love ---
--no, I do not have it in myself.

The only thing I can do
is choose to receive Your Love
that You have
for her.

It is only then
when I allow Your strength
to pour into me
that we create this mysterious alloy:

Strength in the weakness
Love in the temptation of hatred
Grace in the place of judgement.


Seeing a better way,
understanding
a more excellent kingdom

where my actions
are not out of a critical
controlling heart

and my motivation
is as sure
as the knowing to take another breath
as faithful
as the steady pulse of my heart.

To be motivated by love,
by His love.

I am a branch that reaches her
but He is the tree.

I need the lifeblood
flowing through me
(to be of any use to anybody!)


Therefore I choose
I welcome
I receive
the choice
to love:
in action
in deed
in speech

and let the gentleness
kindness
sweetness
patience
warmth;

melt

the violence
yelling
the harshness
the frantic pace so commonly
felt

and oh! to watch His justice coming;
where dishonesty halts
and fears are ceased

this is how I can love her.

and shine
with a light that is humble and free

not because of me
but because God sees

and “apart from Him --
--I can do nothing.”