Loving Lusaka: The Pregnant Women, Part II

The pregnant women are no longer laying on a grass mat, on the dirt, surrounded by cows and chickens. I know this, because I saw the new beds and the new building and the new light in their eyes.

The windows are no longer shattered, the nurse’s home no longer vacant, the roof no longer full of holes. I know this, because I looked through the windows, into a home, full of life and hope.

The cleaner is no longer on her own, to offer basic first aid, to administer medication from a closet, using a large book to determine what drugs to provide. I know this, because I met the nurse, the community health worker, and saw the joy in the cleaner’s eyes, no longer burdened with trying to do it all on her own.

And the pregnant women. They are no longer worried about long, long walks to the clinic, while in labor. Because a home is being built for them, to stay there in their last month, so that when the labor pains start, they are right where they need to be.

The cleaner told me about a woman, a few months ago; she had tried to get to the clinic, but ended up delivering on the way. She was hemorrhaging, bleeding way too much, on the side of the dirt road, far from the clinic. But her fellow travelers made a stretcher with a chitenge and some sticks, and carried her to this clinic. Both she and the baby were saved. Both of them lived.

With this new home, however, the hope is that no more babies and mothers will lie bleeding in the dirt. They will find peace and welcome as they anticipate the birth of their children.

Rural Zambia has one of the worst maternal death rates in the world. But there is so much reason for hope. When I visited the clinic this time, a year after my last visit, I could not believe the change. There was so much hope, so much joy, so much progress, so much life.

The Church of Central Africa Presbyterian, Synod of Zambia, has built this clinic in faith and hope that lives will be saved. They have sustained the clinic, supported the clinic, created new structures so that it can thrive. We do this because of Jesus, the great healer, who wants health and wholeness for all of us. As I see these women, as I experience their smiles, I know that Jesus is smiling, too.

I am so grateful to work for an organization that touches people with the healing love of God. And although there is still so much work to be done, every single mother matters, every single baby matters, every single family matters.

Last year, when I wrote a blog post about my visit to the clinic, it reflected my sorrow and concern over the challenges faced by pregnant women in rural Zambia. It is true that the sorrow and concern are not gone; I still pray for them and ask you to pray, too. But seeing such amazing change in just one year helps me to believe that things are moving in the right direction. It brings me great joy to know that as women bring new life into the world, there are many who care deeply about protecting their lives, as well.

I visited the clinic a few days before Christmas; thinking about another pregnant woman, who traveled far and just needed a place to rest. Another pregnant woman, who ended up in a barn full of animals, who must have worried about delivering a child, who was also poor, also afraid. No bed for her, no space for her, and yet the child came. That child, God-with-us, the light of the world.

As the pregnant women come to the clinic, as they look for a place to rest, as they hope for a bed and a person who will help them, it brings me great joy to know that there will be room at the inn. There will be room at the clinic. There will be a safe place for them to rest and wait and prepare. And when they deliver that child, they will see and know the love of God, in this clinic, a visible sign of God’s great care and compassion.

I think of the long journey, the aching feet, the weary eyes, the extra weight of a child, and I know, at the end of that journey, there will be a bed for the pregnant women. There will be a light for the pregnant women. There will be love for the pregnant women. Because of the light, because of the love, because of the hope that was born in a barn. Because there was no room for him, he has made room for all of us, especially the poor, pregnant women. Like his mother.

The borehole serves the whole community, providing water for the village and the clinic

The kids gave Johnny the chance to pump some water into their buckets

Vaccines are stored in this solar-powered refrigerator; Amayi Nyrenda puts them in small coolers and takes them by bicycle to nearby villages in order to administer the vaccines.