alidajoy jepkemboi

I was sitting at my computer on facebook when she died. only 100 metres away a labouring mother passed away in the operating room. she had tried to give birth at home, alone, but was not succeeding. so somehow she made her way to the hospital. the baby was breech and in distress. as they were prepping the mother for a c-section, she died. they did the c-section anyway and were able to deliver the baby. nurses resuscitated her for an hour and the baby survived. motherless, with no name. all the while i was tapping on a keyboard.

i learned of the little girl the next day and started visiting the nursery for feeds, hugs, cuddling, and some awful lullaby singing. she is the only one who would tolerate it. but she didn't have a choice. the mother came unprepared, likely did not plan to keep the baby. so little "no name" was wrapped in a torn sheet and crocheted hospital blankets. my colleague got some onesies from home, but she was still diaperless. with money from a well wisher, i decided to get her a good start fashion wise. i bought a dozen cloth nappies, more onesies, blankets, and some "sharp" outfits. i returned from town on saturday, looking forward to a happy reunion.

i greeted the staff in the delivery suite and was laughing about something when i noticed they were bagging a baby. my balloon burst. it was not our little orphan girl, but a new boy strangled by the very cord that had been giving him life for 9 months. they had been bagging (breathing for him with a bag hooked to oxygen) for more than an hour. his heart rate was strong but he stubbornly refused to breathe on his own and his pupils were fixed and dilated. the doctor instructed the nurses to stop bagging. my coping skills are to start doing "stuff." i removed the IV, cleaned and dressed the little boy. I wrapped him snuggly in a blanket and placed his lifeless body in the mothers arms. I asked my colleague to explain the importance of grieving and spending time with her child that she had nutured for 9 months. i don't yet know "grieving process" in swahili and felt inadequate to explain. instead i choked back my own emotions while washing my hands. i didn't have time to grieve. our orphaned girl needed to be fed.

i warmed the formula and sang "you are my sunshine" while slow dancing around the nursery with her in my arms. my lullaby repitoire is limited. she heard alot of twinkle twinkle little star and you are my sunshine. she ate hungrily, i wrapped her in a nappy far too big for her 2.7kg, dressed her in a new outfit and wrapped her in a new blanket. she looked like she knew she looked good. the extended family came to the hospital to get the mothers body for the funeral. the women cooed over her and the grandmother pronounced that she would be named after me. alida jepkemboi. they will return next week after the funeral to take her home, after they decide who will care for her.

i went back to the delivery room and found the 2 nurses swamped. another woman had just delivered a baby boy and the nurse was delivering the placenta. since i know nothing about delivering babies, it has become my job to clean and weigh the babies. i was delighted to hear him crying but i was not happy for the woman on the other side of the small room who had just lost her son. she had to lay and listen to the commotion. inbetween these two women, another had just rushed in, miscarrying and bleeding profusely on the floor. the second nurse was caring for her. three women experiencing very different emotions only feet apart from eachother. once i had the newborn wrapped and proudly shown to his mother i went to check the wards.

i found a labouring mother vomiting and helped her clean up, while trying to reassure her in my limited swahili. i see a clinical officer run by to the female ward. an elderly woman has just passed away and he must pronounce. i go to see if i can be of assistance but there is not much they can do. i return to ask the nurses and doctor what i should know about contractions because there is another woman in labour. i return and place my hand on her stomach for the next 15 minutes to time contractions. i hold her right hand with my left and she won't let go. i feel the babies feet kick my hand at the top of her stomach. amazing. like what you would imagine angel wings to feel like. her contractions are 4 minutes apart and i go to report to the doctor. the woman follows me and tries to hop into a bloody bed. i convince her to sit on a clean stool. there is nothing more i can do. i don't know how to deliver babies. but i do know how to feed them.

so i take our little orphan home for the night. i feed her, make funny faces, and feel the warm stream of pee she released all over my legs. she smiled after she did that. i swear.
i set up the cot on a chair beside my bed and drape the mosquito net around her. i set my alarm to go off in two hours, but i am not used to having a baby in the house so i check to make sure she is breathing every ten minutes. we make it through the night. i give her a bath with lavender baby wash in the morning and she loves the warm water. i returned her to the hospital at 1100 because i am afraid if i keep her longer i will want to keep her forever.

her uncle and his wife come on monday morning. they decided that they will raise her. they have three girls at home under the age of 10, so she will fit in well. the father has a good job and the mother stays at home with the children. they still have enough energy to take care of a baby. they take her lovingly and are receptive to instructions regarding how to cup or bottle feed her, mix cows milk for her(formula is prohibitively expensive) . they say they have been instructed to name her after me. i had protested with the staff and suggested that the well wisher also be honoured as he had a part also. the staff decide that joy will substitute for joe and that she will be alidajoy jepkemboi. i feel kind of embarrassed, but secretly i am truly honoured. the family and i promise to keep in touch.

alidajoy jepkemboi. i will miss her.