Change of Plans

We got back from Puerto Cabeza on Wednesday night, a day late. After all the excitement that a trip to town entails, we were planning on a nice, normal last two days of our week. Problem with that is, we live in Nicaragua . . .

On Friday morning I was settled in my hammock studying Miskito and listening with one ear to Jeremy, Zephan, and Rusty testing out the hand-held radios. Payton took the four-wheeler to Santa Clara to see if she could talk to us from there. (Speaking of the four-wheeler, yes, it´s still running, but the back right wheel falls off from time to time while you´re driving it). I heard the four-wheeler come back into our driveway, and suddenly Dawn started yelling for Bridget, our picture maniac, to come quickly with her camera.

I ran out with my camera too and foud Payton unloading a baby sloth from the back of the four-wheeler. Actually she was detaching its claws from the four-wheeler rack—sloths grip hard! Payton had found the animal on the road with no mother in sight. Some kids from the village who were with her wanted to kill it, but she wouldn´t let them. She had wrapped the sloth in a shirt and brought it back so she could beg her mother to let her keep it.

We all marveled at its sharp claws and squashed-looking face. Then we wondered what to do with it. What does it eat? Will it live in a box? How will we keep the dogs from eating it? We finally put it on a post of the verandah and let it do what it wanted, which was climb . . . slowly . . . around . . . all the buildings.

After settling the sloth, I became involved in a conversation with a man who was sitting on the porch with Zephan and Jeremy talking and asking questions about what it means to be a Christian. Zephan has the best Spanish, so he was doing most of the talking. I was amazed, though, at how much I could understand and even contribute with the little Spanish I know. God gave us such a thrilling opportunity to share—the man was completely curious and open to what we were telling him about living with God.

We asked the man to stay for lunch. I helped him prepare his plate, since one of his hands doesn´t work so well after having a bullet pass through it. Right after lunch while I was trying to feed the sloth, Payton suddenly remembered that Mindy and Jenny had told her to tell me there was a lady giving birth and I should go help.

I rushed down to the house of Amelia, the village midwife. Amelia´s niece was giving birth inside. She´s just a girl, seventeen years old and bearing her first child. She´s small, too, and it seemed that she was having trouble. Mindy and Jenny told me that her water had broken several hours ago, but the baby still hadn´t come. All we could do was sit and help her through the contractions while we waited for the baby.

Mindy and Jenny decided to go eat lunch, but I stayed with the mother and tried to help Amelia, Janet, and the other ladies attend to her. Soon after Jenny and Mindy left, her contractions grew stronger. The women were holding her shoulders and knees back with each contraction, and Amelia was watching the birth canal carefully. Suddenly I heard her say, ¨Tuks! Tuks! [Push! Push!]¨ I moved to stand next to her and saw the baby´s head crowning. Amelia told me to help hold the woman´s knees back so she could catch the baby. With the next few contractions the head came out—but slowly. And then just the head was out and no more was coming. Amelia reached in around the baby´s neck and pulled off the umblilical cord. It had been wrapped around the infant´s neck, strangling her.

Amelia yelled to the mother to push, and she grabbed the suction bulb and started sucking the mucus out of the baby´s nose and mouth. I didn´t know what to do—I felt in the way and scared. So scared—because the baby´s head was blue, bluer than normal for a newborn, and I didn´t know how long it had been without oxygen. I started praying hard.

The mother delivered the rest of the baby´s body, and Janet rushed in next to me, cut the umbilical cord, and moved the baby to a blanket on the floor. She started rubbing the baby´s body, holding it between her hands and desparately massaging. Another woman brought in salt and chicken feathers and started using a feather to tickle the inside of the baby´s nose and ears. She blew into the baby´s mouth while Janet kept rubbing. Janet handed me an ampule of atropine to prepare for injection, but I didn´t know where her syringes were. So I just sat there and prayed, and watched, and FINALLY--the baby started crying. Very weakly at first, but as Janet kept rubbing, it became stronger and fuller, until it sounded right, like a healthy newborn cry.

We all relaxed. ¨Mairin [it´s a girl],¨ we told the mother, and Janet gave it the atropine and wrapped it in some clean clothes. Then the women handed it to me to hold while they cleaned up the mother. It was so tiny! I watched and listened carefully to make sure it was still breathing, and I thanked God that its face was pink now.

Jenny and Mindy showed up too late for all the excitement. :D The women asked us to name the baby, but we couldn´t decide. We said the mother should choose one of our names. :)

We walked back to the house, tired and excited. Somehow I wasn´t surprised when we found a new animal waiting at home—a kioki, I think it´s called in Miskito. There is no English word that I know of, but it´s a rodent, bigger than a rat, with sort of kangaroo legs. A man had been selling it for food, but Rachel had bought it to rescue it. I held it and thanked God for the miracle of life—animal life, new human life, and new spiritual life in my friend from earlier in the day.

So you can see from this post that no day is predictable here in Nicaragua. My plans change over and over again. I run wildly from one new situation to the next, and pray that God will prepare me for each one. It´s utter madness, but frankly, I wouldn´t change it if I could.