sunday was the day baby Sena came into our lives and the rest of the week is a blur of constant activity, which is no different from every single week here.
monday was another long day at the hospital, away from our kids, getting everything in order for some sort of care plan for Sena. by wednesday, she was doing much better. her cheeks were chubbier, no ribs were visible on her chest, she was eating from a bottle, her fever was gone. she continued to improve each day. ashley and i would go see her with one of the other children and by friday afternoon, she seemed like a completely different baby than the lifeless, barely breathing infant who had been brought to the centre on sunday afternoon.
thursday night
thursday night
thursday night
Sena's mother and older aunt do not speak French, they speak the local tribal language. so we always have to have an older child from the orphanage with us at the hospital so they can translate information back and forth between ashley and Sena's caregivers. augustin was with us on friday, as well as ashley and jon's neighbor and her sweet baby girl, Selena. we were all thrilled with how well Sena appeared to be doing. she was incredibly alert and interactive. no fevers. the infection in her back had improved greatly. saturday was a busy day at the orphanage and we didn't make it out to the hospital due to a variety of different reasons, but ashley and i made plans at church on sunday morning to spend time at the hospital sunday afternoon/evening.
friday night
friday night, augustin & selena
friday night, all smiles
it was rainy yesterday. it rained all through church. and then girls came over the bureau with me. we watched a movie and they ate lunch. called Mimi Nancy to wish her "Happy Mama's Day!" and they left to walk back to the orphanage because the Pastor comes to the centre every sunday afternoon around 4. by the time i got to the orphanage, ashley had received a phone call from the nurse at the hospital asking if we were coming by. ashley said we would be there shortly and we piled in the car with augustin and drove to the hospital. we already had planned a fun entrance for our return to the orphanage for dinner including umbrella hats that we purchased in Cotonou last weekend. we would spend a few minutes loving on Sena, talk with her mother and aunt, get any medications she may need and be back to the orphanage by dinnertime.
everything changed the second we opened the door to Sena's small, 2 bed hospital room.
her 15-year-old mother was holding her, stooped on a stone down on the ground. she was attempting to nurse her, but was quite unsuccessful. immediately, i heard Sena struggling to breathe from the doorway. i know panic and concern were written all over my face. the next minute was a cluster of firing questions between ashley, myself, augustin and Sena's mother and aunt..."what in the world?" "how long has she been breathing like this?" "ashley, look at her." "she looks terrible." "she can't breathe." "why can't she breathe?" "what happened?" as ashley spoke in french to augustin, who then translated into goon for the mother and aunt, i took Sena from her mother's arms and all i could think in that moment was what NEEDED to be done.
ashley later asked me, after things had mildly settled down...what i would do in the States if a baby presented like this. or i walked into a patient's room and found what i found last night here in Sakete.
i would push the bright blue CODE button the wall.
i would grab a set of vitals, at the very least an O2 reading.
i would apply oxygen to hopefully help with her labored work of breathing.
i would make sure a breathing treatment was administered to hopefully help with her stridor.
i know she would be immediately transported to the Pediatric ICU.
i would have numerous people there beside me, helping me, fighting with me for this child's life.
but as i looked around the hospital room last night...there was no one fighting for this child's life except for the people who had known this child one week of her short 4 week life...
ashley was fighting.
i was fighting.
augustin was fighting.
mathias came. mathias fought.
jon came. jon fought.
the children at the centre were fighting and praying.
people thousands of miles and an ocean away were fighting and praying.
but what could be done?
there's no equipment.
there's no technology.
there's no medical staff available.
it was the most helpless feeling.
the next hours were grueling, to say the least. i held baby Sena for hours, she was incredibly worked up and struggling significantly when we first got there. i cradled her up in a position that seemed to alleviate some of her struggle to breathe while ashley worked on preparing a bottle for her. her little baby hand found my chest and her hand opened up and stayed there for a long time. i'll never forget the way her frail fingers clung to me. i kept telling ashley, "look in her eyes..." the only way i know to describe the look in her big chocolate brown eyes is of sheer desperation. her body was fighting. her body was craving oxygen. her body was overwhelmed with fatigue. i will never, ever forget the look in her eyes last night.
the nurse started another IV, as the one in her wrist (which was actually in an artery) was clotted off and not working. the nurse got the IV on the first stick (an answer to prayer) and Sena actually cried and put up more of a fight than ashley and i figured she would during the procedure. they gave another round of Rocephin and Flagyl. the new IV wasn't work so i flushed it several times for the infusion to complete. she would not eat. we forced 25mL of formula down with the syringe slowly, just like last sunday.
last sunday she lapped up the formula though.
last night she barely swallowed.
it was all too much.
her body was fighting so hard to stay alive, eating and breathing could not happen simultaneously.
as we all stayed in her room and listened to her struggle to breathe, i know each of us thought that every breath could be her last. it was agony. and so cruel to experience and watch this sweet baby struggle through. but as i hummed songs and ashley prayed over her and jon cradled her in his arms and augustin ran back and forth to the pharmacy to get medications for her and mathias patiently attempted to discuss this all with her young, careless mother...it was obvious the Lord was in that hospital room with us. i know the only way any of us could leave last night was due to the fact that we trust and believe that Jesus is right there with baby Sena. and at 9:30 when we were all piled in the car eating our dinner jon and ashley had bought from a street vendor a song came on. a song i've heard numerous times...but right then, in that desperate moment, it was exactly what my heart needed to cling to. and when we left an hour later, it was the hope my heart clung to for baby Sena...
on that day when i see, all that You have for me
when i see you face to face, there surrounded by Your grace
all my fears swept away in the light of Your embrace
where Your love is all i need
and forever i am free...
where the streets are made of gold
in Your presence healed and whole
let the songs of heaven rise to You alone...
no weeping
no hurt or pain
no suffering
You hold me now
You hold me now
no darkness
no sick or lame
no hiding
You hold me now
You hold me now
i believe with everything in my soul that last night when we laid Sena on that hospital bed before we silently walked out of the room...she was resting in Jesus' arms. she was asleep, and hadn't slept the entire time we'd been there. she was struggling. it would be a long night for her little body...but she was sleeping, and appeared somewhat comfortable. we were praising Jesus' name friday evening from that very same hospital room...thankful for the miracle that had been carried out in Sena's life. and last night? we were praising Jesus' name in that very same hospital room. i do not understand. i will not pretend to. it is hard to swallow. hard to not just weep. but i will praise Him. He gives. He takes away. i will bless His name.
it is a privilege to serve here.
it is a privilege to love here.
it is a privilege to be here.
i count every second as a blessing.
the good. the bad. the happy. the sad.
this place has changed my life.
these people have changed my life.
and baby Sena is one of those people.
i hope today you serve where you are.
i hope today you love where you are.
i hope today you count it a privilege to be alive.
because it is such a privilege.
life is such a gift.
do not take it for granted.
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