Illumine Her (32 page)

The wife looked at her with animosity, wondering how someone her age could tell her what to do. But the look didn’t deter Alana or make her back down or shrivel in intimidation.

“You have the power now to raise your son to become the kind of boy that will respect his mother, his aunties, grandmother, and teachers. When he’s an adolescent, he will be the teenager who’ll look out for the girls in his class, the girls in his village, his sisters, and his cousins. And after that, when he’s an adult? He will become the kind of man that will honor his girlfriend, his fiancé, and be a loving husband to his wife. When he looks back at his life, he will see you, the beginning of it all—his selfless mother. Through your struggle, tough love, and fiery discipline and guidance, he will be grateful for it all. Grateful to you and only you. His wife will be grateful to you, his children, your grandchildren. And it would have all started from here. Now. Through your power and choosing.”

Alana paused and looked at the little boy on her hip who was staring at her intently. She shifted her gaze to his mother and observed the change of emotions on her face. The lines of tension were gone, replaced by a look of contemplation, cold eyes filled with pain and affliction. They were the eyes of a woman whose path ahead of her would be the one less traveled, the one forced upon her without her choosing. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Alana noticed a flicker of defiance in the subtle tip of her chin, her lips thinning again, eyes determined. Yes, she was going to be a fierce mother. One who would throw all of her passion into raising her son to be the man she painted in front of her eyes. But something flashed in her eyes and it was gone, replaced by the same prideful look she saw earlier. Alana knew that look—the one where walls were built to avoid feeling the pain. After all, she had mastered it so well. Without a word, she sniffed, turned away, and strode to the cashier, child and Bongos in her arms. Alana stared at them. She didn’t know if this woman would take her words to heart, but if she did, Alana knew without a doubt that she would be able to achieve it all.

***

Alana parked the truck in the space reserved for staff, a lot poorly lit by the flickering lamps above, and made her way to the nurses’ station. Several nurses greeted her as she dropped her bag on a chair in the corner.

“Hey, Lana, where are you working tonight?”

Alana turned as she pulled out her hair tie and wrapped her thick waves into a high bun. “I’m going to be in delivery shadowing Litia.”

She was met with sympathetic looks. But as soon as it was there, they were gone. Litia was a renowned midwife—renowned for her professional expertise, but not so much for her bedside manners.

“Good luck with that,” said one.

“Let’s hope you don’t get put off with the way babies are delivered in this country by the time you get pregnant,” spoke another. “Because there is no epidural or drugs, just good old fashioned labor pains and a midwife that tells you to suck it up.”

Alana swallowed hard and exited the room. Chuckles followed her on the way out, and she brushed the comments aside. Making her way to the labor and delivery ward, she passed doctors and acknowledged nurses with a smile. She had been present once during a delivery in nursing school, but this was the first time she was going to take an active role in this hospital. Anticipation rolled around in her stomach as she approached a woman who was clearly in labor, supporting herself on a post outside the ward. Her head rested against her elbows as her husband rubbed her lower back. Alana smiled encouragingly at him as she passed and entered the wide doors. She walked to the main counter to make her presence known, and an older nurse looked up from behind a computer, large glasses that looked like they were from the seventies framing her face, dark hair that needed to be seriously waxed growing on the corners of her mouth.

“Are you Alana Vilo?” she asked tersely.

Alana shifted her eyes away from her mustache and nodded. “Yes, I’m here to assist Litia.”

“Good. She’s expecting you in room four,” she said, pointing down the long hallway.

Alana nodded again and made her way, passing several rooms divided by long curtains for privacy. She heard whispers and painful moans behind one and a woman’s anguished cry in another. Oh boy. She took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night.

When she reached room four, she slipped past the curtain and came to a halt. The room was small and clean, its white concrete walls engulfing her in intense heat where there was no fan or air conditioner to chase it away. The next thing she noticed was a young woman sitting on the iron-framed bed. Alana guessed she was seventeen or eighteen years old, not much younger than herself. Her T-shirt stretched and rode up and did little to cover her protruding stomach,
lavalava
wrapped carelessly around her waist. Her thick hair was messy and fell around her shoulders, sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. Her thin hands gripped the sides of the bed, and her knuckles were white from the force. Another woman much older than Alana stood to the side, eying her warily. There was no sign of Litia, and she took a deep breath and stepped closer.

“Hello, my name is Alana, and I will be assisting with your delivery tonight.”

“Aren’t you a little too young for this?” the older woman asked suspiciously.

The younger woman looked up, and Alana could see the lines of strain there, a clear indication that she was in agony. She didn’t say anything in return.

“Has anyone been in to check on you?” Alana picked up the chart that was attached to the end of the bed and browsed over the information. Name: Telila Kenese. Date of birth: 17 February 1993.

“No one has come to check her since we filled out that chart. Her water broke hours ago. We came in when the contractions became close and have been here for over forty minutes now,” the other woman said irritably.

Where was Litia?

Alana looked at her. “Who are you?” she asked politely.

“I’m her mother’s cousin, Marama. She has been staying with me since her parents kicked her out of their home when she got pregnant. I called her mother and informed her about what is happening—whether or not she comes is another matter.”

“And the father of the baby?”

“He’s not coming…” Telila spoke up quietly.

“Good!” Marama clipped. “Because if that boy shows his face around here, I will kick him where he won’t get another girl pregnant again!”

Ignoring her, Alana stepped in front of Telila and bent down so she was eye level with her. “Ok, Telila, I’m going to check to see how far along you’ve come, okay? I need you to lie back on the bed so I can examine you thoroughly.” Telila nodded and stretched out as Alana straightened and propped the pillow under her head. “That’s it, very good.”

Alana placed gloves over her hands and gently widened Telila’s legs. She’d never checked a woman’s cervix before and was instantly nervous.
You can do this
, she encouraged herself. She knew nurses were far and few in between, and now that she was here, she was determined to do all she could to help Telila. Plus she didn’t want to give any reason for Marama to doubt her credibility. Without a water-based lubricant in stock to make it comfortable for her patient, Alana slowly eased her fingers in. Telila hissed at the intrusion.

“I’m sorry, Telila. I know this is uncomfortable for you.” The coppery smell of blood and sweat rose to Alana’s nose, and she blocked it out of her head. Calling to mind her training, she suspected Telila was dilated to eight centimeters. Almost there.

Telila groaned loudly as a contraction ripped through her abdomen. Her stomach tightened in reaction, and Alana instantly withdrew her hand and took off the gloves.

“Don’t you make a sound, Telila,” Marama snapped. “You got yourself in this situation, and you’ve caused enough headaches to everyone around you; this pain will teach you a lesson.”

Was this woman seriously berating her patient at a time like this? Alana wanted to throttle her.

“Marama, I need you to come help Telila sit up. It’ll be more comfortable for her if she’s not lying down,” she ordered with as much patience as she could muster. Marama pursed her lips and came around to Telila’s side to lift her. “If you want, Telila, you can face the headboard of the bed and prop your hands up to support yourself,” Alana continued. Telila simply nodded and gripped their hands. “Let’s help move her around,” she said to Marama.

They shifted her until she was in a crouching position, resting her head on her elbows against the iron headboard of the bed. Alana rubbed her back in slow, firm motions while Marama wet a cloth and smoothed it over her forehead and the back of her neck.

“This child better not look like the father,” Marama grumbled quietly while she gently pulled Telila’s sweaty hair up to tie into a bun and took over the massage.

Some tough love she was displaying! Alana shook her head as she picked up the clipboard, checked the time on her watch, and jotted down the information.

“I’ll be back soon. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Marama; I’m going to go check for the midwife.”

Alana let out the heavy breath she was holding as soon as she stepped out into the refreshing air of the hallway. Where was Litia? She started for the front counter but stopped shortly when she heard frantic voices behind a curtain two rooms down. She hesitated before poking her head in. There in the center of the room lay a woman in active labor, Litia positioned at her legs, blood pooling on the floor. She snatched her head up when she stepped in.

“Can I help, Litia?” Alana asked.

“No. I have this covered,” she said tensely. “I need you to go handle the other girl. Be there for the beginning stages of labor, and I will come when this is over.”

Panic fluttered in Alana’s stomach, but she tamped it down and replied calmly. “But… I’ve never done this before.”

She swallowed and tried not to show that she was nervous. At that moment, the woman on the bed cried out and gripped her husband’s hand who in turn smoothed the hair out of her face and spoke softly in her ear. Her taut face reflected what Alana felt inside. Litia turned away from her with an exasperated look and gave her attention to the woman on the bed, giving instructions to push. Conversation over.

Screams followed her on the way out.

Alana returned to find Telila straining against the headboard, her teeth gritted, nails digging into the rumpled sheets, blood-soaked
lavalava
discarded, the scorching pain now beyond any care for modesty’s sake.

“I can’t… I need to push!” she shrieked. Marama slapped her hard across the face.

Alana’s anger flared like a volcano and she rushed forward. “Get out! You are not helping so you can go wait out in the hallway!” She pointed to the curtain. Her nervousness with having to deal with this birth solo had now found an outlet in this woman.

Marama lowered her eyes into slits. “How dare you—a
moemimi
—speak to me like that!”

Alana gave her a hard look. “I don’t care what you call me. I am the nurse here. You have lost all my respect and are a hindrance, not a support here, so get out!” she grated.

Her tolerance had snapped. Telila whimpered as another contraction tore through her abdomen. Marama cursed and threw down the towel she used to wipe Telila’s brow, giving Alana the coldest glare as she marched out of the room, whipping the curtain away to get past. Alana watched her go from the corner of her eye, and then looked down at Telila writhing in pain. She pressed a hand on her back and rubbed.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said comfortingly.

Hell no, it was not going to be okay
, she internally panicked. Shaking from her outburst, she helped turn her over to check her cervix again. A cold sweat broke on Alana’s forehead and she wiped it away with her shoulder sleeve.

“You’re now fully dilated. At the next contraction, I want you to start pushing, okay? You’re doing really well.”

Telila’s eyes held a hazy glaze, and she nodded slowly, her body already burned-out from enduring hours of contractions.