The cold night air whipped my face as I drove my motorcycle down the dirt road behind the ambulance, but I hardly felt it. My mind was on my wife and our third child she was laboring to deliver. What if my wife or my child dies? I thought to myself. Will I say that God has left me? Will I lose my faith? How can I go on if I lose either or both of them? The thoughts hurled themselves at me like darts as I swerved back and forth on the road in the dark, trying to avoid the many potholes.
There in the darkness, I started praying. “God, since I am alive, I know that You are with me. You have done so many miracles in my life. Even if something bad happens now, I cannot forget all the good things You have done for me. Please give me the strength to accept whatever is coming.” As I sensed God strengthening me, I began to sing praises to Him.
It was Wednesday when my wife’s water broke. She didn’t have any contractions yet, but still we got on our motorcycle and drove 15 minutes to the local hospital. She stayed there under observation while I went back and forth between the hospital and our home to spend time with our daughters.
When births don’t go quickly here in Benin, the family starts to worry, and they want to do ceremonies and sacrifice to the fetishes. On Friday when my brother-in-law found out that my wife was still in the hospital, he came over to our house to ask how things were going. “Just fine,” I said. “Things are going just fine. God is in control.” I smiled, and he relaxed a little.
“Can we go visit her?” he asked. I smiled but shook my head, knowing that if I let them start to worry, they will want to do sacrifices. “But shouldn’t I at least tell our eldest brother?” he asked. In my wife’s family, the eldest brother is now in charge of the family’s sacrifices. My wife is the only Adventist in her family, and we have faced a lot of pressure from them over the years to do sacrifices.
“No, I really don’t think you need to do that,” I said with a big grin, making sure my body language was communicating that nothing was wrong. We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and he headed home again, assured that my wife was doing fine.
When I went back to the hospital to see her again, she still wasn’t having contractions, so I started calling around to friends in the church, asking them to pray for her. That night as I was talking with her I said, “Good night. The Pastor is praying for you. See you soon!”
“No rush,” said the midwife who was standing close by. “You can come back tomorrow morning.” I nodded, but inside I had a strange feeling that I would see my wife again much sooner.
At 3 a.m. my phone rang. It was the midwife. “Come immediately! It’s a matter of life and death!”
I jumped out of bed and knelt on the floor. “Lord, there is something wrong, and I can’t do anything about it. I am trusting You to be in control.”
When I was done praying, the midwife called again. “Hurry up! Why aren’t you already on your way? You have to get here now!”
“I’m coming!” I said. I was scared, wondering if I would see my wife alive again. I hadn’t gotten far before the midwife called again. “Are you coming? You need to come with a car. She needs to go to another hospital, and the ambulance isn’t here. This is an emergency. This birth is not going well. I’ve never seen a birth like this.”
Feeling my heart beating in my throat, I ran to the house of my neighbor who had a car. I knocked on his door, but nobody answered. I tried calling his phone, but no one picked up. It was as if I could hear an audible clock ticking somewhere. I ran to another house where I knew they had a car. I knocked, I called, but nothing. Finally I called my friend Gaston to take over the search for a car while I went to the hospital to be with my wife.
“The umbilical cord came out before the baby,” the midwife told me when I arrived. “If the baby moves and pinches the cord, he will die. We have to do what we can to save your wife and the baby.”
I told her I had someone looking for a car, and then I sat down and started praying again. “God, this is too much for me. I can’t handle this. I’m giving this whole situation over to You.”
A little bit later I was on the phone again talking to Gaston. “I’ve tried and tried,” he said, “but nobody’s answering the door or picking up their phones. But wait! I see a flashing light on the road from Natitingou. That could be the ambulance. Just a minute.” He hung up.
“God, I hope this is Your answer to my prayers,” I breathed.
To be continued.
