It was a small 2 ½ month old baby boy. When the Mother brought it into my clinic, I noticed at once the dry mouth, tenting skin and sunken eyes. I knew these symptoms of dehydration all too well. I gently put rehydration solution into its mouth, while asking the routine questions.
Vomiting and diarrhea many times a day for over one week!! How could a baby as small as this one survive these symptoms for so long? This is a real emergency. I must take him to the MeDuGlow clinic as fast as possible. I do not have the type IV drip and cathalon for infants.
BletJhaw is carefully explaining to the sweet, bright-eyed Mother the urgency of her situation and the danger that her baby is in. However, as usual with the mountain people, she does not feel worried. Her husband is off in the rice fields working and will not be back until evening.
I told BletJhaw:
“We must go now, we can’t afford to wait,” and added: “Just think about Brayden!”
(Brayden is his 3-month-old son, healthy, cute and fat). I did not need to remind him of course, because his mind is constantly all around his dear children. Because of them and even long before them, he possesses a great love for the babies. I don’t know what transpired between him and the Mother, all I know is that now the Mother would be ready to go when we drove to her house in WaSuTa.
As soon as she got into the backseat of our truck I was attracted to the winning sparkle in her eyes, and the sweet innocence of her smile. The baby did not look so good, however. He had that abnormal type cry that sounded like trouble, and a dry raspy cough. The Mother unsuccessfully attempted to nurse her baby and give ORS solution as we drove.
“Only 2 hours,” Lord, I pleaded. “Hold onto this infant for 2 more hours of rough riding,”
We were almost at the clinic, when the baby made a most awful cry. The Mother jiggled him and flashed her lovely smile at me from the back seat. BletJhaw tried to take the rutted, tilted, pot-holed road a little faster, as I told him that the baby’s skin was a pale color.
Suddenly I got the urge to reach back and grab the dirty blanket from around the baby’s face and have a look at him. He was blue! I told BletJhaw to stop the truck. I leaped out, grabbed the baby and pulled off his clothes. There in the front seat of the truck, I jutted the little jaw and began infant CPR. It was a desperate attempt. The Mother’s attractive little gleaming smile was wiped off her sweet face as she watched her dying baby.
-He already tasted like death in my mouth as I tried to push the puffs of air into his lungs.
“It’s not working!” I gasped, while desperately trying to compress the tiny heart and give the little breaths.
Through all our prayers, through all my best efforts to save the baby – he did not make it. It was the most difficult; gut-wrenching translating experience that BletJhaw ever had to do in his entire life! He told me later the Mother kept asking him:
“What is she saying? What is she doing? What is she thinking?”
He had to tell her that her baby did not make it.
She cried softly in the back seat as we turned around and made the long journey back to WaSuTa. My own tears flowed off my cheeks and onto the dead baby, covered over with the dirty blanket on my lap.
I can still see it clearly – the young parents handling their grief bravely and staring at the tiny form wrapped in rags on the middle of their porch floor. Curious villagers all gathered around to see and hear about what had just happened. Every eye was dry accept for the sweet Mother and myself, but I forced myself to speak.
“This is not the end. You can have hope. You can have your baby again. The truth is, that if you parents learn to love and worship the true God in heaven, you will see your baby again! We would love to tell you how this could happen. Because Jesus rose from the dead, He also can raise your baby back to life and angels will place him in your arms when He comes again.”
They listened intently while BletJhaw interpreted my words. I told BletJhaw to pray. I felt so sorry for the parents that I could not pray. I know BletJhaw felt the pain just as strongly as I did, but he has more control. I just wanted to be alone far out in the woods and cry aloud to the God who allows, understands and comforts us and the parents during this grief filled time, – but no time for that. The day was still moving on and busy. I must wait until the fall of night when the mosquito net falls around me and I kneel and pray.
I know God connected me to the sweet young Mother who had lost her charming smile, because her tear-filled eyes followed me as I climbed down the ladder and walked away. Our eyes were fixed on each other until the doorway hid her face from me.
The next day was Sabbath and we were invited to WaSuTa for worship in someone’s house. Providentially it was just across from their house and as I left the worship, there was the Mother coming to the bamboo fence. I went over and she hugged me across the fence and cried for a very long time. People all gathered around talking, but she clung to me the entire time. I told her that I loved her and wanted to come and visit her next week. This made her very happy. I know that God has connected us through this bitter experience in order to bring salvation to yet one more home!!!
“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort. Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.” 2Corinthians 1:3,4