The Birth of Naia

Just a little disclaimer: this will be a long post. This is my way of processing and raising awareness for the plight of the people here. What can you do? Pray. Pray for change. Pray for the love of Jesus to break through and win their hearts. 

To begin this story, I need to start at the beginning.  We moved to Suleymania, Iraq about 2 years ago. We were in a small town for 5 years and then we moved to this big city. It was a tough move. We left all of our friends and established relationships. We left home and started all over again. It was really great too. We had fellowship with other foreigners for the first time. We had better access to super markets and business for Tim's work. It was the right thing. About a week before we moved into our new house, a Syrian-Kurdish refugee family moved into the flat next door to us. Our house is brand new and big. They moved into the old, run-down apartment upstairs. Their story was a common story as stories go here, but nonetheless heart-wrenching. They were moving because ISIS had destroyed life as they knew it. They couldn't find work and they had to find a way to provide for their family. There were two couples. Khadija and Rafi with their two daughters, Shana and Naiaz. Rafi's brother Mohammad and Sozan, his wife.  They packed back-packs and took a taxi to the border. Then in the cover of night, they spent 2 hours running and hiding and escaping across the border. They now live in this city and get odd jobs painting and doing wall plaster for homes. It's not great work. It doesn't pay much, but somehow they are making it. 

We struck up an odd friendship.  We are both foreigners in a foreign land. Unfortunately, they do not speak the same dialect of Kurdish as I do. So, communication hasn't been easy, but somehow God has given me an ability to read between the lines. Lots of things get lost in the shuffle, but between the words that do cross over in the language, hand motions, and Google translate, we can understand each other. 

We started with just normal visits and helping them out little by little. Both of the brothers are quite artistic and so are the wives. They can paint. The women can do lots of handicrafts. They are different from the Kurds we know here. We were intrigued by this creative streak and have sought ways to help them use it to provide for themselves.

Trying to share the love of Jesus with them at every turn. They have been open to us and to our message of love. They have allowed us to pray for them.

Recently, Mohammad and Sozan's 1 year old son spilled hot tea on his leg and suffered from 2nd degree burns. We went over and prayed healing for him in the name of Jesus. They received the prayer joyfully. They told us they believed Jesus could heal. He wasn't healed instantly, but he was healed quickly. Within 10 days all the skin was whole again. They were thrilled and were telling all their friends that the prayers to Jesus healed their son. 

Meanwhile, Sozan was due to deliver their second child any day. Her mother was able to obtain a 2 week visa to come out for the birth. Unfortunately, the baby decided not to come during that time. Before the her mom left, she asked me to take care of Sozan. I gladly volunteered by services. 

On March 8th, at 8 pm, they came over our upstairs dividing wall. It's only a half wall that we share and we use it as a quick and easy secret passage to each other's homes. It has become a sweet little place to forge intimacy in each other's lives. I hopped over the wall and found Sozan in active labor. Contractions were coming every 2 1/2 minutes. Mohammad asked me to pray just like I prayed for their son. Of course I already was! After an hour, we decided it was time to go to the hospital.

I drove Mohammad, Sozan, their son and Khadija to the hospital.

When we got there, the guard would not let us park at the hospital. I tried to argue with him that I was a woman and didn't want to park alone on a dark street and have to walk back. He wouldn't listen to me. I was so frustrated and must have made a bit of a scene, because when I pulled out of the parking lot, another man was waiting for me and directed me to a spot on the very crowded street that was under a light and just right. It was a very narrow parallel park and I couldn't manage it. The man offered to park for me. He was able to slip the car into this narrow space with a centimeter of space left next to the light pole. I was so thankful for his kindness.

I walked back to the hospital to find Mohammad in the waiting room. Men are not allowed in the maternity ward. They must wait in another building. Khadija was trying to navigate the language and get all the paper work filled out. Sozan was rocking with contractions outside. We held hands and danced in the street every 2 minutes. 

We finally acquired the file and were able to go to the labor and delivery building. The guard would only allow one of us to go with her. Khadija went with her. I felt so helpless. I went back to Mohammad and he insisted I switch places with Khadija. Khadija was terrified and was very willing to do just that. 

I walked back and we swapped out. I found Sozan in a room with 4 other women all in varying stages of labor. There were no medical personal present. I had no idea what to do. I had attended a few other births before, but never been the main helper. After sitting there for 20 minutes, I realized I had to be pro-active and find the doctor and get her checked. 

I found someone in scrubs and asked her to come back. She looked at me strangely and asked where I was from. I explained I was from America and I was there with my Syrian neighbor to help her have her baby. She was completely blown away. She was among the first to say, "I wish you were my neighbor. Why would you do this for her?" 

The doctor shared with me some of her story. She explained that because the government had not paid it's workers in 6 months, they were working with a skeleton crew and only the emergency room was open. There were only 4 female doctors working and at least a dozen women total laboring.  Each woman had another woman with her to assist her. There were maybe a half a dozen nurses and 3 or 4 cleaning ladies. She told me how the head doctor had to beg for supplies for the hospital since they had no money to get them. The effect of all this was very demoralizing. There was no incentive to work well. The care was minimal at best. There was a spirit of fear that hung over the place. It was dark, run-down and dirty. 

The doctor checked Sozan while having a conversation with me, seemingly unaware of the pain Sozan was in and the roughness of her own hands. I speak the language fairly well, but Sozan only  knew a few words, so I was her link to communicate. That was a lot of pressure. We found out Sozan was 6 cm dilated. That was good news. They decided to take her to have her membranes stripped. The beds were spread with trash bags and their was a big trash can at the base of the birthing tables. They had her climb up on top of the bed and pull her dress up. It was very humiliating. They used a giant tool, looked like episiotomy scissors to strip the membranes. It was very painful. Then the nurse just walked out of the room and left her with the waters pouring out into the trash can below. She began to shake and tell me she was freezing. There was no sheet or blanket or anything. I took off my sweater and wrapped it around her shoulders. We struggled through two contractions this way. 

At this point, she wanted to get up. I went in search of a doctor. There was no one. So we just got up and started walking the halls. She left a bit of trail behind her, but there were other trails on the floor. 

The doctors and nurses were rough. I saw no personal care or interaction between patient and doctor. It was a job to be done. It was a dirty job. It was a loud and annoying job from the doctor's perspective. The only things they said to their patients were, "Stop screaming, it's sinful." Or fear tactics to get them to hurry up like, "Hurry up and push this baby out, if it dies it will be all your fault." 

 At this point, she went into hard labor. She would grip my hand and beg me to pray for her. I was singing, praying, and doing anything that came to mind. She was terrified and saying she no longer wanted to have this baby. By 11 pm, she was in hard labor so I found the doctor again. She agreed and we found another trash bag bed for her to climb up on. They checked her and she was ready to push. Lots of rough checking and stretching and pulling. By this time, Sozan was screaming in pain. They told her to get up on her knees that the baby was stuck. No one offered to help. So between contractions we got her up on her knees and the baby started crowning at 11:40 pm. They had her back on her back and the doctor stretched and pulled, then took out the scissors and cut her open with no anesthetic. Without even telling her what was happening. The head came out and then the doctor squatted down and yanked the baby out. They immediately cut the cord and put the very blue baby on a table.

 She was wiped off and then just left here. She was crying, but so blue. At this point, I was worried. I left Sozan and went to care for the baby. You have to bring your own diapers and cloths and clothes. So I dug through the bag and began to clean her and dress her and rub her to get oxygen flowing in her little body. The doctor came over and said to me, "Why is she blue?" That really threw me, I was way over my head.

 They flicked a switch and handed me this orange tube that was dirty and jagged and told me to give her oxygen. I was praying and rubbing and putting the tube in her nose, but she was still so blue. Finally someone told me to take her to the pediatrician. I walked her down the hall and around the corner to an empty window. I waited and called, but no one came. I saw a doorbell, so I pushed it and roused a sleepy nurse. She came and asked what I wanted. I thought it would be obvious that I am holding a blue baby! She had me fill out paperwork and then shuffled off with the baby. The nurses there were so perplexed by me. Why would an American help this Syrian? They all had questions. They wouldn't let me in or tell me what was going on. I could hear Sozan screaming down the hall as she was sewn up. I got back and the cleaning ladies who were probably 50-60 years old and wearing yellow, rubber gloves were scrubbing her legs off and telling her to get dressed and get off the table so they could clean it up. The clean up process took about 3 minutes. They dumped off the old bags into the trash can, put new ones down and used a wet, dirty dust mop to wipe off the floor. They also had questions about why I was there. When I left they were done, but there were still big drops of blood under the table and on the steps. They put her in a wheelchair and told us to go home. We had to wait 30 minutes for them to release the baby. They released a still blue baby and told us to go. 

I went to get Khadija and Mohammad. They wheeled her out and I ran to get the car. The guard at the gate stopped me as I was driving back in to tell me, "The women here have no honor. We consider it sinful. But you have honor. Why would you help her?" I told him it was my honor to help her and love her. He was baffled.

What an opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I was so thankful. We were home by 1:30 am. 

 The next day, Naia, which means flute was looking much better, but still a little blue. Sozan was what I could only describe as shell-shocked. She was in a lot of pain and I think the whole experience must have been a blur to her. All she knew was that I was with her the whole time. She held my hand and told me that whenever I prayed she felt peace. 

This is at 3 days old and Naia is looking pink and healthy. Sozan has color back to her face and she is falling in love with her baby. I am forever bonded to this family.  Our hearts are united like never before. I was able to give them the gift of my presence and my peace that I have through Jesus alone. I get to be in their lives as long as we live next to each other here.  I am praying that the love of Jesus wins their hearts forever!  May he open their minds to understand that this love is for them too.