Our 7-year old son surprised me the other day with this question: "Mama, did you know you would live after having babies?"
I think his question was two-fold. First, did I ever wonder if I would die in childbirth like so many women throughout history have (and so many who still do today)? And secondly, was I afraid to have babies because of the prospect of death?
My answer to his question was simple: Yes, I knew I would live after having babies. I was never concerned that I might die.
Why is that? Because I had babies in America. I had three beautiful baby boys in America.
Caleb
Kai
Asa
I then explained that being in America meant I could be taken care of the whole time I was pregnant and while I was having a baby. I had a good doctor who knew how to take good care of me and the baby in my tummy, and she had everything she needed to take care of me. And if there had been a problem, she would have known what to do and she would have had what she needed to do it.
I didn't deny that some women do still die in childbirth in America, but that it's so rare I wasn't worried or scared for myself to have babies.
I didn't deny that some women do still die in childbirth in America, but that it's so rare I wasn't worried or scared for myself to have babies.
My son was satisfied with this answer, but I sensed an opportunity to explain more.
The reason so many women can still die in childbirth in other places around the world (like here in Africa) is because they don't have enough doctors to take care of them. And even if they have doctors, they don't necessarily have the resources needed to take care of them. They might not have medicine or surgical tools or knowledge of how to do C-sections or post-partum emergency surgery. Quite frankly, there's a lot required to keep pregnant women healthy and safe throughout a pregnancy let alone labor and delivery.
I explained to our son that his daddy is someone who knows how to take care of women having babies. He spent years learning how to be a good doctor, and he even learned how to do C-sections (which was something our son had never heard of, so I explained, which was a bit ironic since our children still don't know how babies are normally born). Having someone like his daddy around is a really good thing for women having babies.
But far too many women in this world do not have someone like that around. Far too many women do not have a doctor within reach when they need one. Far too many women still die in childbirth because they simply don't have available healthcare - no doctors, no medicine, no tools, no life-saving resources of any kind.
And so I explained to my son: That's why we're here. Because Africa needs more doctors. Your daddy is one more doctor in Africa right now, and he's training more people to be doctors, to be good doctors who love Jesus and want to help heal people like He did.
So far we've helped six new Family Medicine doctors get trained, and next month there'll be six more graduates who will be helping people in Africa. I named people that our son knows from our compound here at Chogoria - one who is staying in Kenya, two who will be returning to Burundi, and one who will be returning to Congo - all of whom will be a huge blessing to many people who need the help of a doctor. Imagine how much good they will do, how much healing they will bring! That prospect is why we are here.
Our conversation was unexpected, but I am so thankful it happened. It gave our son a bit of insight into how blessed and privileged we are to be from America, where his mama didn't have to wonder if she would live after having babies. And it gave our son a specific understanding of why we live here in Kenya.
As of yet, our children have never questioned why we live here. They've been told why, but they've never questioned it. They accept it in the way children often accept things - with a shrug of the shoulders and no further thought about it. But we want them to know why. It's important to know why because moving halfway around the world isn't something done flippantly. And it's important because if our children ever do question our choice to live here, we can point them back to why.
In truth, sometimes Eli and I have to point ourselves back to why.
The day our son prompted this whole discussion was the day Eli watched eight people die at the hospital in a 24-hour period (and most of them had nothing to do with Covid-19). Days like that can really force the question of why we're here. Why are we here where Eli has to witness such suffering over and over again, and feel the perpetual stress of working in an under-resourced area?
Earlier this week I reached the end of my rope and said, "I want to go home" and meant it. Seasons like this with extra burdens on our shoulders and an inability to handle those burdens without the presence of our family and all that's familiar can really make me wonder why we're here. Why do we stay here when we could be close to our families instead?
Moments like those make our son's unlooked-for question so appropriate and so helpful. They give us the reminder we need, and the encouragement we need, to keep doing what we're doing on the days that it's hard to live in a foreign place. When we need the occasional reminder of why God has placed us here, we remember that He put Africa on our hearts all those years ago, which He did because there aren't enough doctors in Africa and He wanted us to play a part in changing that.
The reason so many women can still die in childbirth in other places around the world (like here in Africa) is because they don't have enough doctors to take care of them. And even if they have doctors, they don't necessarily have the resources needed to take care of them. They might not have medicine or surgical tools or knowledge of how to do C-sections or post-partum emergency surgery. Quite frankly, there's a lot required to keep pregnant women healthy and safe throughout a pregnancy let alone labor and delivery.
I explained to our son that his daddy is someone who knows how to take care of women having babies. He spent years learning how to be a good doctor, and he even learned how to do C-sections (which was something our son had never heard of, so I explained, which was a bit ironic since our children still don't know how babies are normally born). Having someone like his daddy around is a really good thing for women having babies.
But far too many women in this world do not have someone like that around. Far too many women do not have a doctor within reach when they need one. Far too many women still die in childbirth because they simply don't have available healthcare - no doctors, no medicine, no tools, no life-saving resources of any kind.
And so I explained to my son: That's why we're here. Because Africa needs more doctors. Your daddy is one more doctor in Africa right now, and he's training more people to be doctors, to be good doctors who love Jesus and want to help heal people like He did.
So far we've helped six new Family Medicine doctors get trained, and next month there'll be six more graduates who will be helping people in Africa. I named people that our son knows from our compound here at Chogoria - one who is staying in Kenya, two who will be returning to Burundi, and one who will be returning to Congo - all of whom will be a huge blessing to many people who need the help of a doctor. Imagine how much good they will do, how much healing they will bring! That prospect is why we are here.
Our conversation was unexpected, but I am so thankful it happened. It gave our son a bit of insight into how blessed and privileged we are to be from America, where his mama didn't have to wonder if she would live after having babies. And it gave our son a specific understanding of why we live here in Kenya.
As of yet, our children have never questioned why we live here. They've been told why, but they've never questioned it. They accept it in the way children often accept things - with a shrug of the shoulders and no further thought about it. But we want them to know why. It's important to know why because moving halfway around the world isn't something done flippantly. And it's important because if our children ever do question our choice to live here, we can point them back to why.
In truth, sometimes Eli and I have to point ourselves back to why.
The day our son prompted this whole discussion was the day Eli watched eight people die at the hospital in a 24-hour period (and most of them had nothing to do with Covid-19). Days like that can really force the question of why we're here. Why are we here where Eli has to witness such suffering over and over again, and feel the perpetual stress of working in an under-resourced area?
Earlier this week I reached the end of my rope and said, "I want to go home" and meant it. Seasons like this with extra burdens on our shoulders and an inability to handle those burdens without the presence of our family and all that's familiar can really make me wonder why we're here. Why do we stay here when we could be close to our families instead?
Moments like those make our son's unlooked-for question so appropriate and so helpful. They give us the reminder we need, and the encouragement we need, to keep doing what we're doing on the days that it's hard to live in a foreign place. When we need the occasional reminder of why God has placed us here, we remember that He put Africa on our hearts all those years ago, which He did because there aren't enough doctors in Africa and He wanted us to play a part in changing that.
It's that simple.
Our hope and prayer is that someday, if our son ever asks, "Mama, do these women in Africa know they will live after having babies?" we will be able to answer, "Yes. Yes, they know they will live."
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