The Perils of Childbirth in Afghanistan
It will break your heart. And if you are a mother or pregnant or a woman you will find that your mind is filled with a kind of compassion that borders on sorrow. These poor Afghan women are already dealing with so much adversity in their lives. I can't imagine going through these kinds of trials during childbirth. To us here in the states, or any nation that is not a third world, we can not even begin to imagine what it is like for these women.
I can't help but feel connected to them. To relate to their situation, pain, want and need. But not in the way that is at all similar to their experience. Pregnancy is hard for me. I really don't enjoy it. But these women go above and beyond what I have experienced. While I laid in a clean hospital with clean bed linens, air conditioning, a doctor who had an abundance of sterile purple gloves and surgical steel tools, plenty of pain medication and all the comforts I can think of, these women laid on dirt roads, in broken down cars, in hospitals so ill equipped it would turn your stomach to have to walk into the front door and had their precious babies. While I complain of having an army of ignorant nurses while I labored with Max and while I was shocked by how inadequate my care was there, it is nothing compared to women who have to labor and deliver on beds covered in plastic with nothing but dirty rags and lumps of dirt to soak up the blood.
I am in awe of these women. I truly am. I don't think I could endure that. In fact, I know I couldn't. While I complain of having to heft myself into my car and how uncomfortable it is for me to sit in bed I think of these poor women who walk for days to a hospital, while laboring, for just a slightly better chance of survival.
There is no comparison to our situations. None at all. Except that we are women. And we have babies. And we want to live. And we want our children to thrive.
I am so grateful for the luxuries I have. For the next 6 weeks it will be my goal to stop complaining about this pregnancy. Because this is literally a dream compared to these Afghan women. And when I am done delivering in my nice clean hospital room in my nice clean hospital with my army of hospital staff, I vow to do something about this situation. What it is, I do not know, but I have to. If I can't use my own experiences and resources to help better the lives of women and children everywhere, then what good am I?
I can't help but feel connected to them. To relate to their situation, pain, want and need. But not in the way that is at all similar to their experience. Pregnancy is hard for me. I really don't enjoy it. But these women go above and beyond what I have experienced. While I laid in a clean hospital with clean bed linens, air conditioning, a doctor who had an abundance of sterile purple gloves and surgical steel tools, plenty of pain medication and all the comforts I can think of, these women laid on dirt roads, in broken down cars, in hospitals so ill equipped it would turn your stomach to have to walk into the front door and had their precious babies. While I complain of having an army of ignorant nurses while I labored with Max and while I was shocked by how inadequate my care was there, it is nothing compared to women who have to labor and deliver on beds covered in plastic with nothing but dirty rags and lumps of dirt to soak up the blood.
I am in awe of these women. I truly am. I don't think I could endure that. In fact, I know I couldn't. While I complain of having to heft myself into my car and how uncomfortable it is for me to sit in bed I think of these poor women who walk for days to a hospital, while laboring, for just a slightly better chance of survival.
There is no comparison to our situations. None at all. Except that we are women. And we have babies. And we want to live. And we want our children to thrive.
I am so grateful for the luxuries I have. For the next 6 weeks it will be my goal to stop complaining about this pregnancy. Because this is literally a dream compared to these Afghan women. And when I am done delivering in my nice clean hospital room in my nice clean hospital with my army of hospital staff, I vow to do something about this situation. What it is, I do not know, but I have to. If I can't use my own experiences and resources to help better the lives of women and children everywhere, then what good am I?
1 comment:
Wow, that certainly does open my eyes. Reminds me of what times used to be like here, perhaps for the pioneers. Amazing.
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