In 2014, I was finishing my Master’s degree to be a Nurse Practitioner and had the opportunity to complete a portion of my residency in Tanzania.  At this point in my life, I had never traveled to the continent of Africa. As I began my first trip to Tanzania I felt excited, nervous, and eager to meet mothers and children and work with them in their local environment. 

You see, all of my prior nursing experience at this point had been with women.  I served as a bedside nurse for women with cancer, women with high risk pregnancies, and an array of women’s health issues.  I knew when serving these women, I was called to work with women going forward.

I was also growing to learn that children are the most cherished and valued extension of a mother.  I found great joy, and purpose working with them as I helped their mothers navigate their health care needs. 

When I arrived in Tanzania I was pretty naïve to what I would encounter.  I was curious, excited, and thankful for the opportunity. I started my journey working in a clinic seeing children and being a part of births.  I was most excited about seeing and being part of deliveries.  I witnessed several beautiful births of healthy babies to strong mothers.  I watched sacred moments when babies first met the world, were wrapped in vibrant cloth, and handed to their mothers to be held for the very first time. It was a privilege to witness these beautifully raw and intimate moments.  I was learning so much.  

One day at the clinic there was a delivery that went terribly wrong.  A baby was born who was having difficulty breathing at birth.  The mother was hemorrhaging and needed to be immediately cared for so I was handed the baby.  As I held this baby in my arms I searched quickly and thoroughly for resuscitation supplies.  I found a small table with a hand-written sign labeled “resuscitation.”  Instantly I was hopeful but this quickly dissipated as the table was only occupied by a heap of fabric on top of it.  I continued looking, but found nothing.  I felt desperation as I looked throughout the delivery room for supplies knowing time was of the essence. There were no supplies anywhere. 

I did my best to stimulate the baby by rubbing their back but didn’t know what else to do.  The midwife told me to set the baby to the side and focus on the mother.  Over time, I’ve come to learn that the priority is often put on the mother in these settings because she’s the life-blood of the family that everyone depends on.  After working with the midwives to help stop the mother’s bleeding, she had been stabilized enough to stumble out of the clinic holding her blue and lifeless baby.  I can still picture her staggering out of that door while I stood rooted in place feeling hopeless and inadequate. 

Quickly after, the doctor I was working with calmly came up and told me there were many patients waiting and it was time to see them.  I watched as the clinic staff around me proceeded with their next patients as if what we had all just experienced was just part of a typical Tuesday morning. 

I was shaken.  And with so many questions.