Skip to main content

So many thoughts… COVID + Uganda

So many thoughts… COVID + Uganda + Birthdays

Well, how do you begin to process, describe, explain, reason with a pandemic affecting the entire world and do so from the corner of the world that feels like it cannot take one more inch of suffering. 
Uganda: we have a total of 52 cases of COVID - all in Kampala an 8 hour drive away, all from international travelers or their direct contacts. We are currently ending week 3 of stay home restrictions (not technically as strict as lock down status). Restrictions including no driving without a permit (healthcare workers and government permitted), no driving a boda after 2pm and absolutely no passengers on your boda, a curfew starting at 7pm and ending at sunrise, no church or public gatherings (of course), and all of this coming from the president’s news addresses every couple nights where he says words and they become law/fact/interpreted and enforced differently by each and everyone. And not to mention our president actually made a video of himself working out inside to remind Ugandans they don’t need to go outside to exercise… (I literally don’t know any Ugandans who want to exercise). 
Ike doing a boda run to town for produce for half of the team - I call it his shopping cart. 

I entered the hospital this morning to hear the report that 4 children died yesterday and that the head count on the ward is 35 patients. Our very very fragile malnourished child was still in her bed alive with her mom and grand nearby when I entered the ward. My two premie 1.1 and 1.4 kg babies (twins, but for both the other twin died a week ago) were still there. But Four of out 39. 10%. Granted all four of those children showed up yesterday in bad condition and were likely passed the point of improvement. And likely delayed coming to the hospital because of covid fear. But regardless that is four lives. Four mothers mourning. Four families debating what is allowed and what is not for a burial of a child under coronavirus restrictions. 

 The 1.1 kg premie

It is easy for me to get in a victim rut - thinking oh this place is terrible and suffering is terrible and just sit in complete despair or instead sometimes I just want to get out because the suffering is just simply too much. I am sure this is a reality for many of you right now reading this from home. Sitting in a pity of thoughts about how this wasn’t supposed to be like this, cancelled trips and weddings and graduations - all the chaos of covid-19 and its wave of repercussions as it rolls out into the world. 

We talked as a team about suffering while reading this book yesterday from Eric McLaughlin. We talked of how it often feels like sitting in darkness, asking why is this happening now and why to me? Similar to Job - when our world crumbles, we ask God why? And sometimes he doesn’t give an answer. In Job’s case God tells of his magnitude with a simple reminder that He is the father of creation and Job is absolutely not. And this is enough for Job. It’s not an answer to the why. It’s an answer to all of the… Where are you God? Are you near? Are you listening? And that answer is I am present and here and amongst the suffering. And that leads us to his promises, to the truth in his word. It leads to the power of the Easter story. To a loving father that sent his son and a son who experienced deep pain and suffering on the cross on our behalf.

The chapter begins with this quote from Nicolas Wolterstorff “The one who does not see God’s suffering does not see his love. God is suffering love. So suffering is down at the center of things, deep down where the meaning is. Suffering is the meaning of our world. For love is the meaning. And Love suffers. The tears of God are the meaning of history.” 

So we continue here. We sit in the suffering. We hear the painful numbers of the dead. from the world’s covid cases. from the pediatric ward. from our friends and family. Yet we sit in it knowing that God has sat in that place too. That literally sounded like I am talking about sitting on a dog pile at the park but you know what - sometimes suffering feels that way. But he is near, he is present, he hears every cry and lament. 

So while the world is in this weird physically isolated but socially more connected than ever as we bond over the pain of a pandemic, I will leave you with another gem from our team meeting, a quote that Scott loves from Frederick Buechner. 

“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” 

And now for a bunch of birthday photos - Hadley (below, right) the 7th, me 8th, and Lindsey 10th. 





Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Day 1 - July 12th

    I have desired to write about Jack and our child rearing experiences in general for a while and I frequently push it off and it just simply isn't a "right now" priority. Starting today, on what would have been Jack's 2nd Birthday, I am going to write daily (or try to) for the next 35 days in remembrance of the 35 days he lived on this earth. It will likely be unedited, imperfect, and intentionally raw - partially for the sake of time (I work, do school and we have a toddler in foster care ok?!) and partially because that is the theme of our story, imperfection (made perfect through Christ).  Today, I want to talk about birth. More specifically, medically complex birth. I get asked often if I had to have a mandatory c-section - thankfully no I did not. But I also did not expect to go into labor at 35 weeks and 5 days either and I am certain that is the worse option here. We came home from a week at the lake with Ike's family and as we are getting into bed Ike s
Post a Comment
Read more

Day 2 - The NICU

 The NICU is a place you are extremely grateful for but you also dread its existence. You are so thankful that your fragile baby has around the clock expert care but you also hate that your baby has to be there without you. And then when you are there you feel awkward - you’re the mother but his caretaker is the nurse - you have to ask permission or for help to hold the baby (so many lines/drains so it’s not easy to pick them up). It’s also just heartbreaking to see the other babies that have been there for weeks or even months. Jack’s isolette/crib/bed was next to a baby born at 24 weeks (on April 8 actually) and it was July 12… he was still tiny with a young mom who we witnessed have hard conversations about her capacity to care for such a tiny fragile baby. The baby on the other side was born via c section because his organs were on the outside of his belly (omphalocele) and he cried and cried and cried. (We actually had a mom bring a baby with this same diagnosis to our house in Ug
Post a Comment
Read more

Day 6 - ECMO

After all that surgery talk, this seems like an appropriate time to talk about ECMO.  ECMO stands for extracorporal membrane oxygenation - basically an exterior heart and lungs. Only a few hospitals in Virginia have trained teams and adequate machines to run ECMO. We learned a lot about it because there had to be someone in Jacks room 24 hours a day to monitor/run the machine. Like for bathroom breaks or lunch breaks - they had another trained ECMO person come and sit in the room while they took a break. We met almost every ECMO worker (a few didn’t do peds) and we talked with them a ton. They were present for many hard conversations with doctors, surgeons, nurses, chaplains, etc. They did things like get us lunch when the free lunch carts rolled by, bring us honey from home, update us on medical rounds that we missed. They felt like a second family. We wrote down almost all the nurses and ECMO techs Jack had - we wrote down 15 names for ECMO and I know we missed a few (like the night
Post a Comment
Read more