Baby C
The longer we live in Haiti, the more I am aware that beauty and pain often come hand-in-hand. Both give an opportunity to know Jesus more, bringing an ever-increasing awareness of His presence in our daily lives.
This week, I began making home visits for about a dozen new patients who I am adding to my case load in the nutrition program. On Wednesday morning, as I bumped along muddy back roads in search of the first patient on my list, I came to a clearing in the thick brush which revealed the most breathtaking view. I had to stop the car for a minute so I could gaze upon the beauty of this country, worshipping the Creator. The sun was shining through tree branches. The mountains were standing majestic in the distance. A local farmer was working in his field that was softened by the heavy rain the night before. There was no roar of traffic and honking of horns out here. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful. Moments like these remind me why I love this country so much. I snapped a picture but it doesn't come close to capturing the beauty.
Continuing deeper into the village, my translator and I found the home of our first patient, but no one was there. Checking our list and planning our route to find the other patients, we had one child living in the nearby neighborhood of Grande Savanne, a little bit out of our way and the only one in this area. However, this name on our list tugged at my heart and we decided to make that house our next stop.
Pulling up to the concrete and tin home, we parked and I checked the chart to get some information on the child before we entered. Baby C was born prematurely on 12/19/18, gestation unknown. Last weight: 1.85 kg (4 pounds). This was mom's 3rd child, and had just needed a little support with breastfeeding a preemie. I anticipated a simple weight check to make sure baby was growing appropriately.
The mother greeted us warmly and invited us inside. On the bed at the other end of the one-room home, I could see a tiny bundle. It was dark inside, so I moved closer to see more clearly. As I approached, it became quickly apparent that something was very wrong. In fact, I wasn't completely sure the baby was alive.
Peeking out of the swaddled blankets, the head covered by a tiny green hat, all I could see was her face. Her eyes were matted, and her nose was crusted with mucus. Her skin was flaking like peeling paint. Her nose and tongue were swollen. She was not moving.
To my relief, the baby began to wake when mom picked her up and handed her to me. Though she was so very small, she was surprisingly vigorous. She even seemed to respond to my voice and did her best to look at me when I talked to her. The more I studied her face, I could see characteristics of Down Syndrome. I unwrapped her blankets to assess her further. She was lacking some of the tell-tale signs of Downs, and that was a secondary concern anyway. It was clear that her most pressing issue at that moment was severe malnutrition. I watched her labored breathing, and knew that this baby was in real trouble.
I'm adding a couple of photos of this sweet baby girl below, and they are hard to look at. But I want to you to see her face and pray for her. She's a real baby that lives in a house that I pass by nearly daily. Look at the newborn-size sock in comparison to the baby...she was so unbelievably itty bitty.
My heart and mind were racing. Still feeling grief from losing baby Myson just a couple weeks ago, I kept thinking, "not again, Lord. Please, not again." I quickly made plans to take Baby C to my friend and mentor, Sally Todd, a nurse practitioner who has been caring for children with malnutrition for a long time. She could help guide a treatment plan for this sweet thing. Mom seemed completely unaware of the severity of the situation--she was most concerned about the baby's "rash"--but thankfully consented to coming with me to get more help for her baby. Mom gathered a few things, changed the baby's diaper, and we loaded up in my car for the short drive to see Sally at the clinic at Hope Rising.
Sally's assessment confirmed the urgency of the baby's condition. After checking her weight, we discovered that she was less than her birth weight although she was 7 weeks old. She had fallen far below the growth curve. We believe mom was trying to feed her, but because she was premature, she simply didn't have the strength to suck effectively and get enough milk. A raging heart murmur told us that the baby's heart was working very hard, and she was likely profoundly anemic. The peeling skin is a classic sign of malnutrition. The decision was made to transport Baby C to the inpatient malnutrition program in Petit Goave, a city to the west of us--the same hospital where Myson had died a couple weeks before. This time, I was able to ride along with Sally and two experienced Haitian staff members who knew how to work the system at this hospital. We wanted to make sure that the baby was admitted without delay. Thankfully, when we arrived about an hour later, the hospital staff received the baby immediately and she is now getting the treatment she needs to grow and thrive. I'm hopeful for a happy outcome for this baby. Once she is stable enough to be discharged from the hospital, we will visit her weekly to make sure she continues to eat well and grow.
Later that evening, as I was thinking through the events of that day, I could see so clearly how Jesus had shown up, and I praise Him! First, He gave me revelation through His creation. In a quiet moment on that bumpy, muddy road, He stilled my busy heart by showing me His power, His beauty, His majesty. This prepared my heart to hear His voice. Next, He gave me a gentle nudge that said, "Go this way, to this house." The truth is, if we had not gone that day, it might have been too late. I grieve at this thought. Oh Jesus, thank you for speaking, for leading, for guiding, for being present in the details of life! Finally, He cleared the way for Sally and me to transport Baby C to the hospital for help. As our country has been in deep turmoil, there was a real potential for trouble on the roads that day. The city where the hospital is located, Petit Goave, is a "hot spot" for roadblocks and protests. All of this happened on Wednesday, and there were planned manifestations on Thursday, February 7 (a symbolic day in the history of Haiti's democracy, and an opportunity for our hurting people to display their anger towards the government). The U.S. Embassy had issued alerts that trouble could start as early as Wednesday afternoon. We knew we needed to get there and back quickly to avoid problems. Within two hours of us leaving Petit Goave to return home, we received this notice:
I praise God for His protection over us and His intervention for Baby C on that day. He is TRULY "our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in times of trouble." Psalm 46:1
To consider that there are other babies like this living right in our community that we never know about...I can barely cope. This problem is 100% preventable, and it makes me want to go further, dig deeper, reach more. And to think that there have been times when I did NOT hear Jesus prompting me, when the noise of my life drowned out the voice behind me, saying, "This is the way; walk in it" (Isaiah 30:21) ...oh my soul, this grieves me even more. How many times have I been too busy to listen, Lord? But for today, for Baby C, for that still small voice that directed my path, I am full of praise and gratitude. Indeed, Jesus alone did the work, and I just got to be a witness.
Beauty and pain, all wrapped up in each other, experiencing both simultaneously, leading us closer to the throne of grace and to greater revelation of His presence in it all.
This week, I began making home visits for about a dozen new patients who I am adding to my case load in the nutrition program. On Wednesday morning, as I bumped along muddy back roads in search of the first patient on my list, I came to a clearing in the thick brush which revealed the most breathtaking view. I had to stop the car for a minute so I could gaze upon the beauty of this country, worshipping the Creator. The sun was shining through tree branches. The mountains were standing majestic in the distance. A local farmer was working in his field that was softened by the heavy rain the night before. There was no roar of traffic and honking of horns out here. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful. Moments like these remind me why I love this country so much. I snapped a picture but it doesn't come close to capturing the beauty.
Pulling up to the concrete and tin home, we parked and I checked the chart to get some information on the child before we entered. Baby C was born prematurely on 12/19/18, gestation unknown. Last weight: 1.85 kg (4 pounds). This was mom's 3rd child, and had just needed a little support with breastfeeding a preemie. I anticipated a simple weight check to make sure baby was growing appropriately.
The mother greeted us warmly and invited us inside. On the bed at the other end of the one-room home, I could see a tiny bundle. It was dark inside, so I moved closer to see more clearly. As I approached, it became quickly apparent that something was very wrong. In fact, I wasn't completely sure the baby was alive.
Peeking out of the swaddled blankets, the head covered by a tiny green hat, all I could see was her face. Her eyes were matted, and her nose was crusted with mucus. Her skin was flaking like peeling paint. Her nose and tongue were swollen. She was not moving.
To my relief, the baby began to wake when mom picked her up and handed her to me. Though she was so very small, she was surprisingly vigorous. She even seemed to respond to my voice and did her best to look at me when I talked to her. The more I studied her face, I could see characteristics of Down Syndrome. I unwrapped her blankets to assess her further. She was lacking some of the tell-tale signs of Downs, and that was a secondary concern anyway. It was clear that her most pressing issue at that moment was severe malnutrition. I watched her labored breathing, and knew that this baby was in real trouble.
I'm adding a couple of photos of this sweet baby girl below, and they are hard to look at. But I want to you to see her face and pray for her. She's a real baby that lives in a house that I pass by nearly daily. Look at the newborn-size sock in comparison to the baby...she was so unbelievably itty bitty.
My heart and mind were racing. Still feeling grief from losing baby Myson just a couple weeks ago, I kept thinking, "not again, Lord. Please, not again." I quickly made plans to take Baby C to my friend and mentor, Sally Todd, a nurse practitioner who has been caring for children with malnutrition for a long time. She could help guide a treatment plan for this sweet thing. Mom seemed completely unaware of the severity of the situation--she was most concerned about the baby's "rash"--but thankfully consented to coming with me to get more help for her baby. Mom gathered a few things, changed the baby's diaper, and we loaded up in my car for the short drive to see Sally at the clinic at Hope Rising.
Sally's assessment confirmed the urgency of the baby's condition. After checking her weight, we discovered that she was less than her birth weight although she was 7 weeks old. She had fallen far below the growth curve. We believe mom was trying to feed her, but because she was premature, she simply didn't have the strength to suck effectively and get enough milk. A raging heart murmur told us that the baby's heart was working very hard, and she was likely profoundly anemic. The peeling skin is a classic sign of malnutrition. The decision was made to transport Baby C to the inpatient malnutrition program in Petit Goave, a city to the west of us--the same hospital where Myson had died a couple weeks before. This time, I was able to ride along with Sally and two experienced Haitian staff members who knew how to work the system at this hospital. We wanted to make sure that the baby was admitted without delay. Thankfully, when we arrived about an hour later, the hospital staff received the baby immediately and she is now getting the treatment she needs to grow and thrive. I'm hopeful for a happy outcome for this baby. Once she is stable enough to be discharged from the hospital, we will visit her weekly to make sure she continues to eat well and grow.
Later that evening, as I was thinking through the events of that day, I could see so clearly how Jesus had shown up, and I praise Him! First, He gave me revelation through His creation. In a quiet moment on that bumpy, muddy road, He stilled my busy heart by showing me His power, His beauty, His majesty. This prepared my heart to hear His voice. Next, He gave me a gentle nudge that said, "Go this way, to this house." The truth is, if we had not gone that day, it might have been too late. I grieve at this thought. Oh Jesus, thank you for speaking, for leading, for guiding, for being present in the details of life! Finally, He cleared the way for Sally and me to transport Baby C to the hospital for help. As our country has been in deep turmoil, there was a real potential for trouble on the roads that day. The city where the hospital is located, Petit Goave, is a "hot spot" for roadblocks and protests. All of this happened on Wednesday, and there were planned manifestations on Thursday, February 7 (a symbolic day in the history of Haiti's democracy, and an opportunity for our hurting people to display their anger towards the government). The U.S. Embassy had issued alerts that trouble could start as early as Wednesday afternoon. We knew we needed to get there and back quickly to avoid problems. Within two hours of us leaving Petit Goave to return home, we received this notice:
I praise God for His protection over us and His intervention for Baby C on that day. He is TRULY "our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in times of trouble." Psalm 46:1
To consider that there are other babies like this living right in our community that we never know about...I can barely cope. This problem is 100% preventable, and it makes me want to go further, dig deeper, reach more. And to think that there have been times when I did NOT hear Jesus prompting me, when the noise of my life drowned out the voice behind me, saying, "This is the way; walk in it" (Isaiah 30:21) ...oh my soul, this grieves me even more. How many times have I been too busy to listen, Lord? But for today, for Baby C, for that still small voice that directed my path, I am full of praise and gratitude. Indeed, Jesus alone did the work, and I just got to be a witness.
Beauty and pain, all wrapped up in each other, experiencing both simultaneously, leading us closer to the throne of grace and to greater revelation of His presence in it all.
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