It is early morning of the 26th of June. A young mother of two feels the labour pains of her third child pressing against her abdomen at the early hour of 1 a.m. So as to not disturb her husband and her sleeping children, she quietly bears the pain until the first rays of sun begin to appear in the sky at 5 a.m. Finally it is time to rise to attend the nearby clinic for delivery. She wakes her husband to tell him that she is in labour and will be heading to the clinic. He will handle the responsibility of getting the other two young ones off to school this morning and then will join her there. She dresses quietly and calls for a piki-piki. She feels every bump of the muddy road underneath the weight of her swollen belly as the motorcycle speeds along. It is a short journey of five minutes and she is grateful to make it before the next contraction hits.
Once she has checked herself in, she is shown to the maternity ward, where there are four other expectant mothers occupying some of the six beds in the room. There are no curtains separating the women and they share the pain of each other’s labour over the next few hours. There are no husbands in sight. The women take turns pacing back and forth and stand out in the fresh breeze of the early morning as a distraction to pass the time. One of the women in frequent pain is checked by the doctor and moved into the delivery room. Her companions hear her screams of anguish next door and the taunting response of the doctor. They exchange worried glances in anticipation of their impending delivery and hope that they are able to handle the pain with more dignity and calmness.
The young mother waits for hours. Her husband arrives just past lunch time as her delivery pains increase. He remains waiting outside of the maternity ward as she bears the agony alone. At 3 p.m. she is informed by the doctor that it won’t be long now. She calls her friend from Canada to inform that she will be delivering soon, but there is no answer. It doesn’t matter. She is eager now to have the whole ordeal over with.
She walks herself into the delivery room when it becomes time and, with the coaching of the doctor and nurse, gives push after push. There are no drugs for deliveries in Kenya, but she endures the pain with the great strength of a mother. She barely makes a sound as she gives her final effort and feels the instant gratification as she hears her baby cry for the first time. It is a boy. She is overjoyed with the safe and healthy arrival. Once she has been cleared by the doctor, her husband joins her and the baby. He is pleased to have a son to carry on his name and is very proud of his wife. The baby has dark curly hair and light skin, such a contrast to his own dark complexion. As he gazes down at his son, he silently promises him the world. It is just past 5 p.m.
Both mother and baby stay in the clinic’s maternity ward over night. Two other young mothers sleep with their new babies snuggled in bed beside them. The young mother’s bundle is silent throughout the entire night, and she is thankful for the rest.
The next day is filled with many visitors. She finally got word to her friend from Canada, and gets a visit partway through the day filled with many oohs and ahhs over her new little one. Some photos are snapped and then it is time for immunizations, registration and to pay the fee. The young mother is told that the clinic has run out of the necessary immunizations so she will have to take her baby home unprotected until she gets the call that there are more available. She registers his name and pays the 1500/= KSH clinic fees. Her husband sits and waits for her as she sorts all this out and fills in the necessary paperwork. When she has finished, they both walk to the road and hail a piki-piki home with their new son.
Welcome to the world, Hayden Brounsville. You chose a great birthday.
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