Alma (The Younger)

"I will be healed as I let Him teach me to heal."

I never thought in a million years I would ever be saying the following sentence:

I, Mallory Hurst, delivered twin baby boys at 11:25 am and 11:45 am on July 28, 2008 at Kawolo Hospital in Lugazi, Uganda Africa.



The next logical question is, "WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU DELIVERED TWINS, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN, YOU'VE NEVER EVEN SEEN A BIRTH TAKE PLACE, HAVE YOU EVEN EVER TAKEN ANATOMY?!" Well, no to the anatomy question and yes to my never witnessing an actual birth. The rest might need a few paragraphs.

I volunteered in the maternity ward at Kawolo Hospital that morning with the intent to bathe babies and sit with expecting mothers (at which point I assumed they would be wheeled away to a restricted area and I would continue on.) It seemed like a reasonable expectation. If I've learned anything in Africa it's that there is no such thing as a "reasonable expectation". It doesn't exist here.

I was sitting with a woman named Brenda, who was very pregnant and dilated to about an 8. I learned that she is originally from Pakistan, has three other girls ranging in age from 7 to 14, her husband works in Lugazi (which is why he wasn't there with her) and she is of the Protestant faith. I also learned, by timing her contractions and monitoring her baby's heartbeat.... that she has a very tight grip. After a while, I started to notice that her contractions were getting closer together and more intense. I called for a nurse, but upon receiving no response, I started to sweat a little. I knew they were coming. I continued to comfort her and breathe with her. She kept saying, "It is too much for me," and "Jesus, momma, Jesus, God." Can you blame her? She was lying on an old blue mattress pad on top of a rusty metal bed frame about to give birth without any medication or doctor present. Only a 22 year old white girl from Idaho who was about as medically useful as a potato....

At that point, Brenda was screaming and I got the sudden courage to lift up her slip and prepare for the worst. I blinked a few times to confirm that I was ACTUALLY seeing two little brownish blue feet coming out of a grown woman. I almost fainted. I started screaming for a nurse but no one came. The only mid-wife/doctor there, at the time, was conducting an emergency C-Section in the other room. All of the nurses were there assisting in that effort. I put a plastic apron on and gloves that came up to my elbows, just as the nurse walked in...laughing hysterically at me. If there were ever a more backwardly surreal moment in history...



She didn't understand why I was panicked. She had full faith in me. In Lugazi, and in other parts of Uganda, they believe that all white people are extremely well educated (in all areas), and rich. I was neither. She told me, in broken English, that I was going to deliver the baby. Wait..... wait. They were aware I did not know how to deliver a baby right? That I was not qualified! I was terrified, and trembling, and dizzy. But the baby was coming, with assistance or without. So, we grabbed the little guys foot and pulled the baby out of his mother.... she clamped the umbilical cord on two ends, cut it in the middle with a razor blade, and then slapped the baby into my arms as he started to cry. I wrapped him up and took him into the other room.

For some reason, at that moment, I was pretty calm. Awestruck really. And grateful it was over and everyone was alive! But Brenda wasn't done.

The next baby came without much warning, and in the same fashion: feet first. She was having twins!! I closed my eyes and offered up a silent prayer for strength and guidance. When I opened my eyes again, I caught a glimpse of Brenda's face; sweet, and pleading. I hardly knew what she was saying, but I knew she had great faith in me. In God through me. So I tugged on the baby's feet, he tugged on my heart strings, and we separated him from his mother. When he entered the world, he looked so peaceful. But there was no crying, he was limp and lifeless. Closed eyes, non responsive, and not breathing. My whole body started to shake and my heart became almost too heavy to carry. I ran him into the other room where the nurse handed me a suction cup and an air pump. And then just like that, she left.

My thoughts were cloudy... I was shaking uncontrollably... tears were rolling down my face... I could hardly breathe. And then, serenity came. His guardian angels calmed my heart and started working through me. I pumped air into his lungs 5 times, and then started to squeeze his little chest. All I kept repeating was, "Please, God, don't let him die. Please, let him live. Help me know what to do, stay with me." I repeated the resuscitation at least 10 or 15 times. I started to wonder how much time we had before this sweet little baby's life was over before it could start... and then........... he started to cry. That cry, was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. It penetrated the deepest chambers of my heart. I tied off his umbilical cord with a rubber band tube, wrapped him in a tattered blanket, and did my best to soothe him, my adrenaline surging. His presence, in those first few moments, could only be paralleled in my mind, to that of the Savior's.



Tears came rolling down my cheeks as I recognized the similitude. I had just held in my arms the life of a son of God...I watched him struggle for his first breath and heard the sound of his first cry. It was piercing. Magnificent, and still, so humble in existence. I knew my life and testimony would never be the same again. As I placed the babies into their mother's arms for the first time, I could feel the transformation take place. She thanked me in a reverential way, and handed me her younger son, speaking in Lugandan. "Gwe malayika wange".... "You are my angel". She wanted me to name him. And so I did...

Alma.The middle name of someone I love very dearly - and the first name of someone in the Book of Mormon who I admire deeply. All three being the youngest sons - all three needing saving in one way or another.

I still had pieces of the latex all over me from sweating so badly. I walked home alone that evening, my arms and hands still shaking. I probably very much resembled someone put into a deep trance. Anything else I did that night seemed meaningless. I still can't believe what happened. I can't believe it. It was so overwhelmingly... overwhelming. My mind was completely blank - thoughtless and empty - yet reflective.

I found myself staring blankly at the wall for hours that night, unable to sleep. In the next hut over, I could hear the cries of a child, and it awoke in me a profound revelation. Deeply and wholly spiritual. We are not alone. Within each of us, there is a power to call on angels from God. And they will assist us, they will surround us and protect us. They will forge with faith the path which God has designed for us, and for those we are called upon to serve. This morning, I was called upon to serve His child. And of myself, I was not enough. But through Him, through His son Jesus Christ, I could be made whole. I found myself relying on the breath of Heaven to hold me together. He lightened my darkness and poured over me His holiness. He calmed my spirit and guided my hands. He made it possible for His son to be saved.

Yet, having an eternal perspective... I was really the one being saved by it all.



And I wouldn't have changed it for the world....
Well except maybe to have a certified Doctor in the room. But I'm just sayin. :)