Miracle Babies

One of the ladies of the skills training program, one of my best friends, Margret, has been pregnant with twins for quite some time now. She didn’t tell many people. Most everyone believed there was just one baby in there. Margret didn’t keep it to herself for fun, but because she knew how high of a risk it was to deliver twins here.

I drove Margret to an appointment at a major local hospital last Friday to make sure everything was okay and to make a plan as she was already past-due with her twins. The doctor didn’t do any tests other than take her weight and blood pressure, and sent her on her way to wait it out a bit longer. The doctor did, however, inform her that the babies weren’t in position to deliver, but gave no alternative other than to come back next week.

Fast forward to this Friday. Again, at 6:30am, I picked up Margret and Elina to go to her appointment. She was one day away from being 10 months pregnant with these babies (talk about STRONG!). I have hospital heebee-jeebees* so I waited elsewhere until I received the call to pick them up. Margret’s appointment took longer than usual, a possibly great sign that the doctors were also feeling the urgency of the situation. Margret walked toward the car, with defeat and discouragement across her face. She sat down with her appointment papers and reports, with the word “URGENT” written across the top and looked up at me to say, “I’m sad.”

Margret then told us that the student doctors examined her to find that the babies still weren’t in position, and wouldn’t be able to move to become ready. They ordered an emergency ultrasound and a c-section that would take place on Tuesday, because they were too busy this weekend. A woman 10 months pregnant with twins and complications, and they were too busy. They also gave Margret a “heads up” that since she had to wait a few more days, it was highly likely that she would lose at least one baby, but they couldn’t take her earlier. So of course this made Margret sad. Discouraged. Scared.

It was time to make a decision. Proceed with trusting these doctors to wait until Tuesday, or listen to the voice of God that was cautioning us to take her elsewhere. This hospital has been known for some pretty terrible treatment of the poor. Women I know personally have suffered greatly here, and have even lost children here. (If you want to know these stories, feel free to shoot me an email, but I warn you they are incredibly difficult and shocking).  If such horrific things have happened with normal pregnancies, what would happen with Marget’s twin complications? In a split second, we stepped out in faith for Margret to take another path for the sake of her life and the lives of 2 future world changers.

And we drove to another hospital, a respected hospital with excellent care, but one completely unaffordable to the majority of the Zambian population. Margret was rushed in for her emergency ultrasound for her to discover even greater complications that were threatening the life of her babies, complications undetected by the previous hospital.

Margret’s doctor at this new hospital ordered a c-section for that day. It couldn’t wait. And she shouldn’t have been told to go on this long in her pregnancy. The babies had grown to be so big that they were squishing each other, and indeed their lives were at risk every day that passed. We were reassured that right now the babies were healthy, that Margret was also healthy, but time was of utmost importance.

With God’s great provision, Margret was able to move forward with her paperwork, was admitted to rest for the afternoon while Elina and I rushed around town to get her bag, diapers, bottles, formula, all the essentials. Margret’s husband stayed back to gather his community to pray, as it’s not always culturally expected for the husband to be present for the birth of the babies.

Before we left, Margret’s hands were shaking. The normally chatty, incredibly positive, smile-wearing Margret was in a different form. She asked for the surgery to be delayed, she prayed that she would go into labor, anything but surgery that day. It all happened so fast, and when I returned to check on her (after fighting the fiercest storm I’ve ever seen in Zambia, might I add), she had changed. Nerves still were there but peace was greater. Margret said to me, “I’m not afraid anymore. God has given me peace.” In the time we were gone running errands, Margret kneeled before the feet of Jesus with all of her fears, all of her worry, and found His comfort. She looked at me with vulnerability and honesty in her eyes and said, “I didn’t know what I was going to do,” as she went to the hospital with less than $1 in her wallet. She wasn’t prepared financially to deliver that day, and surely not to afford a surgery. Before all was figured out, she felt helpless, afraid, trapped in the seemingly impossible situation. But God. But God provided richly to give His prized daughter some great care. And after that moment of seriousness, we giggled over her fashionable hospital gown, watched some tv, and ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the adorable baby clothes that my fashion merchandising self had the pleasure of arranging into the bassinets.

And before we knew it, we watched as Margret was rolled down the hallway for a c-section to be performed by a doctor who greatly cared about her and the lives of the babies. Me, Elina, and her mother, Emeli. Wyatt met us there with more needed supplies, and we all sat down for a quick dinner to make the hour-and-a-half surgery time pass by quicker, as it was also our first real meal of the day in the midst of the busyness. We tried to force down some meat pies while our nerves ran wild and so many scenarios played out in each of our minds. Then we sat. For what seemed like an eternity. One of the nurses passed by and casually said, “Oh, the babies have already come out and they’ve been waiting in the room. You can go see them.”

WHAT?!! We literally cheered out loud, clapped, and ran to the room where they were. “The babies.” Those words kept echoing in my mind. Two babies. Alive. Healthy. And mama, out of surgery, and healthy. No complications, nothing. Everyone was completely healthy and we were completely ecstatic.

Just that morning Margret told us with tears in her eyes that she would most likely lose one baby, one of the babies she’s carried for 10 months now, she’s prayed over, she’s picked out clothes for. And now, we were looking at BOTH babies, identical twin girls with heads full of hair and the most beautiful faces, breathing fine, crying well.

Praise God. Praise God who is still in the business of performing miracles, and allowed us to witness one heck of one on Friday evening around 7pm.

The operating doctor who ordered the surgery did so knowing she would be needed until 5am through the night, a full 24 hours after she arrived at work. But she was committed to providing excellent healthcare for her patients, something I realized is quite a precious commodity around here. She didn’t judge a case based on socioeconomic status. She viewed the case through the lenses of humanity, with everyone worth quality treatment. And those babies and Margret sure have been given the star treatment.

Margret wasn’t able to see the babies until we went back to visit yesterday morning. Her husband came along with her sister to relieve her mom of night duty. Wyatt went over to Margret’s husband to find him rocking one of the babies in a corner of the room with tears in his eyes, repeating the words “Praise God, Praise God” as he, too, knew of the miracle that happened on February 28. Margret cuddled each of her babies and said they are to be called the Chikondi Babies until they’re named. How stinkin' cute is that?!

As we entered the shared room with 2 beds (quite common) that morning, we noticed that another woman had arrived since Margret was given her bed. The woman greeted us when we came in, but there was no bassinet at her bedside. Margret’s husband, handed off his own newborn baby to Margret’s sister to talk with the other woman. She had just miscarried 7 months into her pregnancy, and she was heartbroken. In that moment, Margret’s husband just stood by her to comfort her, praying over her, being there with her. When it seems he would’ve been justified to only pay attention to his wife and babies, Margret’s husband stepped out to share Jesus with this woman.

And that’s what makes me so incredibly grateful for this family. The Phiri family is a family of sacrificial encouragers, faithful friends, and truly the hands and feet of Jesus. These two little girls are surely a blessing to us all, serving as a testimony of the grace and miracles of God, but I think they’ll find that they are the blessed ones to be raised up in a home that truly loves and fears God in all they do.

This weekend has been tiring, challenging, emotional, and a million more emotions/adjectives (and I can't even imagine how Margret feels!). But above all it has been a joy. God has made life from a prognosis of death. He has brought two beautiful girls into this world. He has encouraged and uplifted the soul of a discouraged and scared mama. And He has let Wyatt and I be a part of it all, taking family members to and from the hospital, picking out the world’s cutest newborn baby dresses, and cuddling two incredible miracles. We don’t deserve it for a minute, but are so very grateful that God has let us be a part of our friends’ lives here in Zambia, to share in more than a skills training program- to share in life and the blessing of community.

And I wouldn't dare wrap this up without some photos of the world’s cutest “Chikondi Babies”

Nervously waiting for these to be filled up with 2 Phiri babes on Friday afternoon from what was just supposed to be another check-up in the morning. One exciting day!

Me, Elina, and Emeli (Margret's mother) waiting & waiting...

The Phiri's Chikondi Babies! 2 identical twin girls

Margret wanted to pretend she was sleeping for this one. But she is still one beautiful mama!

Candid from Wyatt. I am one proud Auntie and obsessed with these little miracle nuggets!

Margret's incredibly sweet sister who has been caring for the babies during the daytime while Margret recovers. 

Tell me these aren't the cutest babies you've ever seen!!

Love,

Amy (& Wyatt)

*(P.S. about those hospital heebee-jeebees… For those of y’all who know me really well, you know about my intense anxiety in medical practices that started around the time I passed out when my middle school decided it would be a good idea to give shots in the counselors office. Yea, not so great. There began this crazy fear/anxiety any time I enter or come near a medical building. I even passed out at the eye doctor, the EYE DOCTOR, for them doing nothing but looking at my eyes. Embarrassing? Yes. But all secrets are out. So when I took Margret to the other hospital, I knew I couldn’t just sit in the car when much of the information was being relayed through me to Margret to understand all the procedures involved and the urgency of the matter. I walked through those doors and prayed “God give me some supernatural strength and please don’t let me pass out.” This sounds lame, probably, but ask anyone who has escorted me to a doctor’s office- the fear is real. And in a day full of miracles, God did another. Surrounded by the smells of rubbing alcohol (a great trigger) and lab coats, and scary equipment and sick people, I was fine. Better than that, I felt great. I felt liberated from my fear, like another miracle happened that day. I have strolled in and out of the hospital many times since, walking to Margret’s room to find her stabbed with a million lines, but I haven’t felt a tinge of that fear. Who knows if it’s just for this weekend or if the liberation is here to stay, but for now I am so incredibly grateful that I could be present for my dear friend’s big day. That I would be able to rock her babies while she recovers, and that I could stay strong enough to even bring others back and forth, after I haven’t been anxiety-free in medical situations in over 10 years. This could be a blog post all of its own but I’ll leave it here with a big ole Praise Jesus. …And hope you can still look at me the same knowing I usually get light-headed when anyone even starts mentioning needles and gross things like that. Just kidding about the last part, kinda. But for real, praise Jesus.)