C'est la Vie

I've finally started my work at the health center and it has been going well. I talk to pregnant women and mothers of infants about proper nutrition for them and their children. I've learned about a lot of taboos that they have (for example its said that if pregnant women eat eggs they will have a miscarriage) and mothers often do what their told by the elders even if they know its wrong (when one mother’s month old baby was sick she was told by her mother in law that if she didn't give him water it would be her fault he died, so the mom gave him water, probably not clean, even though she new it wasn't the right thing to do). These sessions help me realize that behaviors are much harder to change than giving information and perhaps the moms won't be allowed to make drastic changes now, but I hope that when they become grandmothers they will be less likely to pass along false information concerning the health of their grandchildren. The sessions are translated by one of the apprentices for hardly any of the women who come speak French and sometimes not even the same language so the info has to be translated twice. Sometimes the apprentice takes over which inspires me that he could continue giving the sessions without me present- my ultimate goal.

The sessions also help me become familiar with more faces in the community and I get to see a lot of cute kids that come. Lately I see the same mothers at the market and noticed a higher level of interaction with them. And there are fewer questions as to why I'm here. But getting to know the women can have its toll.

Just this past Monday I had a pregnant mom come to listen to one of my talks. There were few that came that day and she understood French so I was able to have a conversation with her. She was 9 months pregnant with her third; however her previous children have died. So when she came back Wednesday and delivered a 6.5 lbs baby boy (large by Benin standards) she was thrilled. I saw her in the health center glowing and shortly after she took him home. Friday she came back to the health center, her son was pale, but she didn't let on that she was nervous. Later that day, my counterpart, the nurse at the health center, told me haphazardly that the newborn died.

3 pregnancies, 3 deliveries, 3 lives unlived.

I was lead to her house by one of the apprentices later that day to give my regards. I found her there, sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her face. You would think at a time like this my foreign status wouldn't matter, but no, I was still paid attention to when all the while I just wanted to comfort her. I couldn't understand what the others were saying but it sounded more like blame than support. Needing to get some air and hide my own emotions, I knelt down beside her and gave her a hug, the only gesture I know in times like these, and left. That day I cried in front of my college, something I don't think he knew how to handle.

It shouldn' t be that hard to introduce a new life into this world.