Women not worth celebrating: Death in uniform

March 7 is a special day to me because it’s my mother’s birthday. It’s my all-good-mood day because I believe I owe it to my mum to keep thoughts of her above anything else that might attempt to upset me. I usually spend the day recollecting memories that have stayed with me over the years; ones that bring tears to my eyes every time.

But this year was different. It was supposed to be extra special. I was expecting a double portion of joy with my friend due to deliver that day. I even wore a blue top to welcome the male bundle of joy into the world. The call was long overdue and when it came through in the afternoon, I was ready to scream with joy.

However, that wasn’t the case. The baby didn’t make it. How, what happened? The gestation process had been steady void of complications and my friend had texted me the day before that her water had broken. What could have possibly gone wrong?

My heart broke. My mind went blank. I felt numb. No, this couldn’t be. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to end. It was the worst feeling ever. Then when she called, I could sense her bleeding heart through her weeping voice.

‘They killed my baby,’ were her words; ones I wouldn’t wish for my worst enemy to say. What happened?

Nurses happened. We all know that due to the employment climate, we all don’t get the opportunity to work where our hearts desire so we end up with alternative jobs just to get by. Unfortunately in Ghana, nursing happens to be one of the recipient courses for frustrated youth who don’t gain admission into the university.

And who suffers for this? Everyone who ever happens to step into the hospital. Every patient is at their mercy. Nursing isn’t like a boring job behind the desk that you find yourself stuck at because your desired job has no vacancy. Nursing is supposed to be a calling; a ministry even. You need a heart ready to serve to see a pregnant mother through this significant moment.

But Ghana has to deal with heartless, disgruntled and evil women who have found their way into wearing the green and white uniforms and recklessly send delivering mothers and their newborn babies to their early graves.

My friend in her labor pangs had to go on her knees and plead to the midwife-in-charge to have a look at her as she believed her baby was ready to come out. All she did in lie in bed and send her back to her room saying she wasn’t ready yet. She had to go to the labor ward by herself only to be turned back.

For hours, she had to endure this pain of being asked not to push out the baby. After the heartbeat of the baby could not be heard, now they were ready to let her push. They watched her push out a baby strangled to death by the umbilical cord that had given him life for 40 weeks.

Yesterday was International Women’s Day and for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like celebrating it. Not because I don’t think women are worth celebrating, but because there are many of those who are definitely not worth it. Those who cloak themselves as helpers of life-giving but are in fact, agents of death who wreak havoc in families by rendering men widowers and fatherless and women motherless.

My friend always had her misgivings at delivering at the 37 Military Hospital in Accra. It’s terrible that her dreaded fears came true.

One of the most anticipated days in the year turned to be bittersweet. I had my mum’s day to celebrate and my friend’s loss to grieve. At least my friend’s life was spared; two other mothers didn’t make it along with their unborn children. And guess what, their shift ended and they went home like it was nothing. Five lives perish in one night and the nurses have no fear of having to account to anyone.

My mother wanted to be a nurse decades ago. With her big and kind heart, I know she would have been amazing at it. But I guess, it wasn’t meant to be. And those who have no business in the labor wards are ushered in to help women in their most vulnerable states, only to leave them traumatized at best and lifeless at worst.

I know God will surely restore what my friend lost but my heart bleeds for the young mother who would be admitted today and other days to come. Will she and her baby make it? Or would she sent home with milk-heavy breasts and no baby to suck them?

May God have mercy on us all.

© Josephine Amoako 2019