Sitting in the cookhouse of one of our pregnant neighbors on a Thursday morning, I took her blood pressure. The swelling in her legs worried me. As I finished, another lady walked up.
“A woman in labor needs your help,” she said.
“Okay,” I replied. “I just need to get some supplies first.”
I am not a midwife, but mingling with people in the community and helping them brings me great joy. When I reached my house, I filled a bag with supplies, including a Doppler (an ultrasound) and an emergency communication device, so I could get more help if needed.
Around 10:00 a.m., following a woman who knew the destination, we set out on a narrow jungle footpath that crossed over a stream several times.
“Lord, please give me wisdom and strength. I really do not feel like I know what I am doing. I have heard lots of stories from my mama, but doing something on my own is totally scary, so this is going to have to be all You. I claim Your promises and trust You to give me clear thought of what to do.” I prayed earnestly all along that walk. God knew I felt very unqualified. But the locals trusted me and wanted my help, and I was willing to do whatever I could.
As I approached the hut, I could hear wailing as the woman had a contraction. Climbing the stairs and walking inside, I watched my steps along the partially rotted floor. As my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I saw a woman lying on the floor.
I assessed the mother and thought the baby was breech. I felt feet on one side and the head on the other. I was very concerned.
What were the options? If she were to go to the hospital, it would mean her walking or being carried 10 miles down to the river for the first leg of the trip and still more hours by canoe and a long trip on a bumpy road. At best, a small evacuation plane could pick her up at the river, but it could only land during daylight and good weather. I decided to wait and see how she progressed.
As neither the mama nor the baby was in distress, I used my emergency messaging device to ask another missionary, a midwife, for help and insight. She was so kind to stay by her phone to answer my many questions and walk me through everything.
That evening, someone came with a stalk of bananas. A girl started a fire outside the hut and cooked them for everyone. Another girl brought me a fresh coconut to drink. Other than a little fried saksak that a few of them ate later, that was the extent of supper for the 20 or so women and children gathered for the delivery.
Sometime after sunset, the woman started to push. After 11:00 p.m., I noticed she was getting more exhausted. I was concerned the baby was becoming distressed but kept it to myself. As I prayed more, God brought a distinct course of action to mind, which I shared.
“Lay down so I can break the sack of water preventing the baby from coming out,” I said to the mother in limited Tok Pisin. After another woman translated that into Sawiyano, the mom followed my instructions.
I went in and broke the sack. When she got up to push, the baby came out in just a few minutes. It was just after midnight. As I caught the baby, I untangled it from the umbilical cord wrapped twice around its neck. Now able to breathe, the baby started to cry.
“Joella, feel her belly—there is another in here,” a woman said.
I felt and, sure enough, another was coming! Just minutes later, the second baby arrived. Not as strong; it took what felt like a few minutes of work before it started to cry. I was thankful the placenta had been delivered and that both babies were nursing and doing well.
By the time I arrived home at 1:30 a.m., I had been running on adrenaline for many hours. Even so, I was overwhelmed by God’s goodness in bringing these healthy twin boys into the world.
But I had not forgotten the other pregnant woman whose blood pressure I had been checking, and the next morning I went to see how she was doing. She was throwing up and had diarrhea, which worried me. In such a condition, she was not up to the long journey to the hospital. When I examined her a month before, I felt she was full term and could deliver any day. Her legs were so swollen she could hardly walk.
I checked on her several times that weekend. She stopped vomiting, and the diarrhea lessened. However, I suspected twins and was afraid of complications.
About 1:00 a.m. on Monday, the woman’s father knocked at our door. His daughter was already in labor! I grabbed my bag and rushed to her house. She was definitely in active labor. The baby’s heartbeat sounded healthy. Four women showed up to assist. So we sat around, taking turns massaging the mother through contractions.
Within three hours, a baby girl was born. But I could feel another baby inside her belly. About forty minutes later, another girl was born.
Soon the mother took a turn for the worse. The placenta did not come out, and she started to bleed too much. Her blood pressure was down to 70/40. I could barely find her pulse. Each time she sat up, she would faint or pass out.
“You must lie down and not try to sit up,” I urged.
If she ate anything, she would choke on it. I went home and made a few phone calls. I knew she needed to be evacuated.
“Samaritan Aviation is willing to come and get her. But the plane can only land on water,” I said as the family processed the prospect of an evacuation and the 10-mile walk to the river.
“You need to make a stretcher right away. She does not have a lot of time,” I insisted.
I was firm and clear. I knew the evacuation would be hard, but I also realized this was her only chance to stay alive. I could not bear the thought of this mother of six, now that she just had twins, not being there for her children.
I immediately went to update her father and uncle, as the husband had gone to the neighbor’s home to find a wet nurse.
Everyone jumped into action. Soon over 50 people gathered in the yard. As they made the stretcher, I packed a bag. No matter how much I dreaded hiking over 20 miles to the river and back, I knew I had to go with her.
When they lifted her onto the stretcher, she passed out and went stiff, and her eyes rolled back in her head. When she regained consciousness, I could not help but praise the Lord!
“Do you think she will be able to make such a long trip?” some asked.
“Yes, but we have to start walking with her NOW, or she will not make it,” I insisted.
“I want to go,” her mother exclaimed.
We prayed and headed out, pausing at our house for a minute while Sean also prayed.
Thirty-five of us then began our hike. Soon, the group made plans to stop at a stream and wash her off. I was afraid she would pass out again, but my greater concern was that if she got too cold in the water, after losing so much blood, her body might not be able to warm up again. After I expressed my concerns, they decided not to stop.
“We must get her down the mountain road to the river,” I urged. Although our pace was slow, the jolts that came with walking too fast caused her incredible pain. After a few miles, we stopped and added another pole to each side of the stretcher to make it stronger and lessen the jolting. Thankfully, we could walk faster after that. Once again, the postpartum mother passed out but revived. We made it down to the river, and the plane arrived. Relieved by how our timing coincided, I prayed that she would make it to the hospital in time.
We loaded her onto the plane with her husband and one of the babies. The other baby had stayed in the village with the mom’s sister. The pilot prayed, and they departed.
Hot, tired and sore, I faced the challenge of walking back up the mountain. Fortunately, we stopped at a small village and purchased fresh coconut water and crackers before beginning the ascent. At 9:00 p.m., with sore muscles and some blisters, I arrived home grateful again for how God had led.
“That was huge. That was the first time that anyone from our village has been emergency evacuated with Samaritan Aviation,” remarked one of the men as I walked onto our driveway.
I knew that such a successful undertaking was all through God’s blessing and everyone’s cooperation. We rejoiced when, a few days later, we received word that the mother was recovering well. The labor of love was not in vain.
Thank you for your labor of love: praying for us and our ministry and giving sacrificially. You made this life-saving mission possible. We believe the trust being built in our community will also mean more hearts opening to the saving power of Jesus! His labor of love for us all gives us the strength to press forward.
