When I was in middle school (and began the transition from girl to woman), I started to hear about the Proverbs 31 Woman. The topic was popular in youth group sermons, small group discussions, and Christian conferences throughout high school and college. For anyone who hasn’t read that passage in the Bible recently, Proverbs 31 describes a true biblical woman. Obedient, faithful, “clothed with strength and dignity”, hard working and filled with grace. It has always been taught to me as the type of woman I should strive to be.

I have known many great women in my life that fit the description of Proverbs 31, but by far some of the best examples I’ve found are the women of Tanzania. They have strength in body and spirit like no other woman I’ve seen. They are confident and caring, affectionate and incredibly bold. They have warm hearts protected by very thick skin. So much is placed on their shoulders – figuratively and literally – and they are never caught complaining that it is too big of a load. They do their work in silent obedience. They are incredible and beautiful.

This week, I’ve gotten to see Tanzanian women in a very different and raw setting. I started working in the Maternity ward on Monday, and every day has been a crazy adventure. If you’ve started to picture these women in single rooms with nurses and midwives by their side as they go through the grueling process of labor and birth, stop thinking now. These conditions are nothing like the privilege we’re given in the U.S. I walked in on Monday morning to find 8 hospital beds in one room, 7 of which were already full with women in various stages of labor. Each bed had one curtain for “privacy” (which are rarely used), and the mothers had a small space where they could store their belongings. Since the hospital is so low on supplies, the mothers are in charge of bringing what they want to be used during the delivery. Most of the time they bring their own kangas (blankets) to wrap the baby in and cotton to catch and clean blood and amniotic fluid. Some of them will also bring cord clamps if they can afford it; if not, the end of a glove is used to tie the cord instead. The women are given no pain meds, no alternative relief measures to help them during labor, and barely any company while they endure the excruciating experience of bringing a child into this world. In their culture, showing any signs of pain is frowned upon and criticized. Most of the women lie in their beds in silence, letting occasional moans escape while they transition through labor. The most noise I’ve heard them make is only when they’re pushing or when they are given an episiotomy without anesthetic, and even then it is nothing compared to the screams and groans that are allowed and even expected of women giving birth in the States.

Even trying to explain it doesn’t seem to give these women enough credit for what they go through to give birth. The best thing I had to compare it to was watching my sister, Emily, give birth to her daughter Talitha. It was incredible and beautiful and one of the best days I’ve had the opportunity to experience. But I can’t imagine getting through that day without a spacious and private hospital room, her husband Riley providing so much love and support, and eventually an epidural to give her that last bit of rest and strength to deliver. These women don’t have any of those things when they give birth, and yet still they maintain their strength and dignity.

After I dealt with the initial shock and awe that hit me on my first day in Maternity, God opened my eyes more to the beauty that is present in that room. Despite the isolation and pain, God is there and through His strength so many new and healthy lives have been brought into this world. This week we watched at least 15-20 births in our morning shifts; according to the record book, almost 100 have been born since Monday. Yesterday and today I got to experience being the one to deliver the baby from start to finish, from the first sighting of the head to the beautiful moment when the baby is pulled out and the mother sighs in relief as she finally gets to hold her child. Not every birth has been easy, though. This morning I had to watch as a woman got an episiotomy without any pain relief and cried out for forgiveness because she thought her suffering was punishment. No amount of comfort or gentle words could shake her from the cultural roots embedded in her.

The worst moment we’ve had this week was the delivery of a stillborn today. We watched as the woman sat in tears with her baby on the bed across from her, processing the news that she had just been given this morning when she came in with contractions. We sat on the bed beside her, offering hugs and hands and words of sympathy, as we watched the other nurses and midwives work around her because it is not culturally common for them to sit and comfort a grieving mother when there are other things to do and other mothers to assist. We all held back tears as she said goodbye to her child and were filled with bitterness when we had to leave her in the postnatal ward, surrounded by mothers with healthy babies. For these situations I don’t have a good answer or an easy explanation. The most I could do was hope and pray that God was with her and He would heal her.

This week has only continued to show me how much a Tanzanian woman embodies the description we’re given in Proverbs 31. I hope that one day I can have even a fraction of the strength that I see in these women. What they go through, even just in childbirth, is deserving of the utmost respect that they often don’t receive here. I wish that I could introduce all of you to these women, but until you come and meet them yourselves I hope that this post gives you an idea of what they’re like.

 

– Allie