"Mom, she isn’t breathing," – an update

This blog was originally posted on Thursday, January 10th.  Here is an update with the original blog below.

Morris' fever broke last night for the first time in 7 days, but all blood work shows a very very sick little boy.  Our Doctor says, "Morris is a very sick little boy, with no obvious cause, apart from the very
severe cerebral palsy. Probably brain damage contributing to all his systemic incapabilities".

Isabelle is without fever this morning, but still a very sickly baby, struggling for life.  We have 12 babies in isolation with fever and diarrhea, but most are on the road to recovery. Still 3 more children with fever due to ear infections and teething.  All sickness is at the El Roi baby home - we are thankful that all other homes have not been affected or infected. 

Our volunteers gathered with our Aunties and babies on Friday morning for a time of prayer, and it was wonderful.  I admit, I opened my eyes a few times to watch 27 little faces looking around at us from their highchair tables. They were quiet as church-mice for the 15 minutes of prayer, just looking around at the adults holding hands and crying out to El Rofi, the God who heals.  The Holy Spirit was palpable. 

Thank you all for your prayers, words of encouragement and financial gifts to help with Morris' mounting hospital bills. 

Original blog posted Thursday: 

On Monday morning at 7:10AM I was called about one of our babies who had been running a small fever through the night and the Supervisor wanted me to ask the nurse if they could start her on an antibiotic.  I contacted our nurse and we were in the process of sending a photo of the baby’s chart so that the nurse could see what the baby had recently been taking.  At 7:40AM I was called again, this time I was told that the baby had stopped breathing.

I jumped in Ian’s car (which handles our terrible roads better than mine) and met Margie at the baby home less than a minute later.  She jumped in the front seat with two Aunties in the back seat holding a lifeless baby.  The baby’s name was Pearl.

We all prayed over the child, crying out to the Lord over and over again to heal her in His mighty name. We prayed, and cried and one of them did CPR while I drove at a break-neck speed to the hospital in town, only to have her pronounced dead at 8:30AM.

What??  She was alive less than an hour before? 

Pearl was a sickly baby, struggling with fever and diarrhea from time to time and then every now and then she would puff up. We had her tested for every possibility from allergies, to renal problems. All tests came back negative.  And then she died.

The next morning, at around the same time of day, Margie called me and said that Morris was not doing well and needed to go to the hospital.

Morris as he was being admitted

Morris is a 2.5-year-old boy who has never sat, never walked and doesn’t hold his head up due to severe Cerebral Palsy.  He was born at 28 weeks and lived the first five months of his life in a rural clinic (left there by his 14-year-old mother who promised to return for him). Since he came to us we have struggled treating his fevers, pneumonia, choking and seizures. He is the happiest little boy, except when he is sick, and then he cries all the time.  We have had many “close calls” with this little guy, but in December we rushed him to the private hospital in town where he was admitted for two weeks. He returned home on December 28^th and eight days later, the day after we lost baby Pearl, we were rushing him back to the emergency room.

After Morris was admitted and they started suctioning mucus, it was time for me to leave (I don’t do mucus well).  We always have an Auntie stay at the hospital with our children 24/7 and so he was in good hands and I went off to run another errand – buy a coffin for Pearl.

I am not unfamiliar to the DUPS Funeral Home, and sadly knew where to go to register the baby’s death, where to choose the coffin (size #2), and what dark window to slide my money under to make payment.  I forgot to drop off her burial clothes, so I could only think of little Pearl lying wrapped in a hospital sheet until Margie took the clothes the next day.

Early this morning Denis picked up two of our baby home Supervisors (the ones who held Pearl as she died in their arms) and together they would go and get the tiny coffin and bring sweet Pearl home to be laid to rest in the Project Canaan Cemetery.

We notified Social Welfare and they came to the funeral with some very distant family members who were notified of the death.  It is common for Swazi’s to travel a great distance for a funeral, even if the relation is distant. It is also common for the family to want to see the baby in the coffin (which takes me by surprise every time) so Cynthia and I were asked to open the coffin for the family to see Pearl. 

They don’t embalm bodies here, so unscrewed the lid of the coffin to reveal sweet Pearl laying there peacefully, covered in condensation from being removed from the cold refrigerator and being brought out in to the deep heat of a Swazi summer day.  The lid was screwed back on, songs were sung, scripture read, and then the coffin was carried to the grave site that had been dug by hand minutes before the service began. 

As in Swazi tradition, a grass mat is placed down in the hole, two people jump down in to the hole and the coffin is passed down.  It is covered with a blanket and then men take turns shoveling dirt on to the coffin.  Every couple of feet of dirt, one of the men jump in to the hole in bare feet to stomp down the dirt so that it is well packed.  As the grave gets filled with dirt, the women collect rocks from the bush to surround the top of the grave and hold the piled-up dirt. 

Graveside

Shoveling dirt to cover the coffin.

Stomping the dirt to pack it down.

Our Aunties gathering rocks

When this was finished, we placed the flowers on the top of the grave, and a rock cross made on Project Canaan at the head of the grave.  Kind words were spoken, a prayer said, and it was finished.

Morris’ fever continues, his seizures are increasing in frequency and we continue to pray for health and healing, in this life.

I am not writing this blog today (rather than Saturday) for sympathy, but writing is how I process things. I just don’t know what else to do today. I don’t want to go and design beaded décor at Khutsala. I don’t want to go have fun with the big kids. I don’t want to drive to town again.  I am tired of crying. So, I thought I would write, and make sure Pearl is not forgotten, and that Morris is being prayed for.

I do appreciate your prayers and words of encouragement, and I also think it’s important to try to explain just some of what happens here on a daily basis.  There is so much that I can’t share publicly out of respect for my Swazi sisters and brothers, and because you simply wouldn’t believe most of it. Life is real, and it’s hard. Death is real, and it’s ugly. And we deal with both daily.  

Matthew 11:28-30 says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Thank you all for your love and support and your prayers for all of His children who are suffering around the world.  We are not discouraged, just sad.   We are not giving up or running away, we are just taking a time to mourn, and we know that there will be joy in the morning.

Live from my yellow chair in eSwatini … it is Thursday afternoon.

Janine

A rapist was caught this week and then terrible tragedy struck.

This week was hard.  No, this week was the hardest week we have had since we moved here.

Monday was a big day.  I was driving to town and randomly picked up a woman who was looking for a ride. She asked that I drop her off at a bus stop that was 10 miles from Project Canaan.  As we pulled up to the stop she asked me to keep driving.  As I continued on she quickly explained that the man who was standing in the bus stop had raped her that very morning.  She was on her way to report it to the police.

I pulled the car over and stopped to call a Police Officer who works at our local station.  I explained the situation to her and asked if they could quickly send a car to pick up the man. She explained that there were no police cars at the station at that moment, so I told her I was on my way to the station and would be there in less than five minutes.

When I pulled up to the police station the lady ran inside and two officers jumped in the back of my truck while loading their handguns and semi-automatic weapons. Before their doors were closed I was peeling out of the police station and flying down the two-mile long dirt road to where the rapist had been last seen. When we got to the bus stop, he was still there!  The police jumped out, arrested him, put him in the backseat of my truck and we drove back to the police station.  

We have since learned that he is a serial rapist and had violently raped women all over Swaziland and robbed them when he was finished. Only God knows why, but when he got to the police station he confessed to raping the woman whom I had picked up and then went on to tell them of many more whom he had raped and robbed. He will be in prison for a long time.

Then tragedy struck.

Wednesday Ian arrived home from the US and it was so great to have him back.  Only a couple of hours after his return I got a frantic call from Helen saying, “Mom, there was an accident with our transport truck.  One of our Aunties is dead.  Go quickly to the front gate please!”   Ian jumped in his truck and quickly picked up Kenny (our EMT), and I jumped on an ATV and flew down the mountain to the front gate. Once we got there we were told that the accident was a few miles down the road and so we headed to Gebeni.

We arrived at the scene to find that the truck was not able to make it up a steep part of a hill and when the driver tried to put it in first gear the truck started to slide backwards.  The people on the truck started to panic and one of our Aunties/Caregivers pushed her way from the front of the truck to the back and jumped off.  People were telling her not to jump and even tried to grab her and keep her on the truck, but for some reason she broke through and jumped, landing on her face.  The truck was already sliding backwards in the newly graded loose gravel and ran over her, killing her instantly.  

  

The next four hours were awful as we transported three people to the hospital (two requiring CPR en route – SO thankful that Ken and Anthony were there).  The police eventually arrived and paramedics came after we had taken three vehicles to the hospital.  By 10:30PM the last of the people had left and Denis and his team started to repair the five (brand new) tires that had gone flat because the truck ran over a thorn bush when it slid in to the shoulder of the road.  I headed home on my ATV and had heartbreaking responsibility of stopping at the Children’s Campus to tell all of our Aunties and Uncles about the terrible news.  Ian and Ken arrived home shortly thereafter from the hospital.  All three patients were discharged that night and Anthony took them home in the early morning hours.

The next two days were filled with conversations with witnesses, police, lawyers, government agencies and, of course, a visit to the family to share our deepest condolences.  As we were leaving the homestead of the Auntie who had died, the woman who had been raped on Monday was standing in front of me.  She was the Aunt to the deceased girl.  We hugged, and one of the family members pulled me aside and told me that Monday was actually the second time the woman had been raped. The first time it happened it was in front of her four children. 

The tears, the shock and the disbelief have not yet ended as we work through the realities of a senseless loss, but also as we see the miraculous mosaic of God’s timing and His handiwork.  

On Friday the driver of the truck was released from jail and we picked him up and brought him back to Project Canaan.  When we got to our house we discovered that a large fire had been deliberately started near our home and was burning out of control.  The winds were picking up quickly and suddenly furniture was blowing off our patio and trees branches were breaking.  The fire spread rapidly and was heading across the mountains and down to the farm.  

Suddenly (I mean within minutes of the wind picking up) the clouds opened up and the rain started to pour – the first rain we have had in many months of extreme drought. Then the hail started to fall and an epic hailstorm ensued, and after a massive 20-minute storm, the fires were out and only the smoke on the mountain remained. 

In addition to all of this, our baby Princess had to be rushed to the emergency room on Wednesday and Sipho was in respiratory distress and was rushed to the hospital on Thursday. On Friday Baby River had his final colostomy reversal and Isaiah had surgery on a hernia.  Both surgeries were successful and we hope to have all four babies out of the hospital early next week.

I saw the hand of God over and over again this week.  He is our strength and He is our shield.  I give thanks for the rain, I give thanks for His mercy and I give thanks that Ian was home this week.  Please pray for us all and for the family of our beloved sister and daughter.  She leaves behind a husband and 5-year old son.

We hope to have a very quiet and peaceful weekend.

Live from Swaziland … I am tired.

Janine