Titles in my region and culture of India are very important. No one, except for children, are referred to by their first names only. People in everyday speech are always referred to as Ana (brother) or Aka (sister). In places of authority, doctors or government officials, one is called Master, Sir, Madam (sometimes because I am a foreign woman I am referred to by this title as well. ) Auntie and Uncle are used as terms of endearment for people who are respected. I didn't realize how much is lost when formalities like these are lost, as they have been in the West.
I came here with the self imposed title of "nurse" on my "Hello, My Name is" badge. Gradually I felt like I grew into the title of Aka. It is a role I am very familiar with. The big sister. I can be the fun one and the bossy one (no comments from the peanut gallery Jenna Lynn...) but still with no real responsibility for the kids. Then this past week some of the little boys started calling me Amma, mother.
At first I was taken aback. I am NOT a mother. Then I realized that the title of mother has a totally different meaning for me then it does for theses children. To them Amma is what you call a woman caregiver, who throughout your life come and go. To me the word holds so much more depth. It conveys love, nutriting, family, late night stomach flus and long boring swim meets. No, in my eyes, I am not an Amma, (yet) but the more I looked at the past two weeks through the lenses of that title I see "mama" is a title that God has me growing into for this season.
Some mornings I get up early and walk down the street to the school girls (and a few boys) home. In the beginning I would just sit and watch while playing the role of human jungle gym. The past few times I have found myself running around finding school uniforms, doing hair, feeding breakfast, and making sure everyone has a lunch and shoes (on the correct feet!) before rushing everyone out the door to the waiting van (you think school mornings are crazy at your house? Try it with 15 kids...). This week as they drove away screaming "Bye Aka!" and blowing kisses out the window I found myself thinking of how much I have come to love my kids.
We are in the process of moving nearly all our children to brand new (as in still smelling like fresh paint) homes. Instead of having large homes (our biggest had 70+ children), these homes have approximately 8 children per home. This family style environment has been a dream of Sarah's since day one of SCH and it has been awesome to be a part of the dream becoming reality. It has been a very hectic week to say the least. But as I sat packing boxes, with one hand because the other arm held a very fussy 6 month old, I became so excited to see these kids flourish into their own people, in these new homes.
But as I look back over the past two weeks there is one thing that stands out to me more then anyother in my becoming of an amma. While I live in the "city" of Ongole it is a very rural one (for you Indiana people think Kokomo with about 2,000 more people). We have hospitals and doctors but in order for our children to receive the best medical care we take them to the big modern city of Hyderabad, which is about 8 hours away. When I first applied to come to SCH these trips were something that I said that I really want to be a part of and two weeks ago I got to do just that. Two of our children, Nolan and Lydia, have Cerebral Palsy (CP) and have been having difficulty swallowing. Because of this they have not been getting the nutrition they need, Sarah decided to have Mickey tubes (g-tubes, feeding tubes) placed for both of them. The day before we left David, one of our older CP boys, broke his femur and the decision was made to take him to the orthopaedic surgeon in Hyderabad. I was under the very good tutorship of one of the SCH Indian nurses and expected to just sit back and watch her work, while I waited (there is A LOT of waiting involved in Indian hospitals) with the kids. Quickly, the plan changed. I found myself taking the active role. I first noticed it when we were talking to the ortho doctor, who immediately explained his plans for David in English completely skipping a Telugu explanation for the SCH nurse benefit. Now if I had been a good Indian nurse I would have head bobbled and said "Thank you, sir". But a sense of advocacy came over me. I had questions about my ana and I wanted answers. He was a bit surprised, mainly because I used orthopaedic medical terms, but said he was impressed with my "knowledge". It became apparent to me then that nursing has become much more personal for me, now I am nursing my family.
That feeling kept growing in me as the week continued. I talked to the doctors, paid the bills and sat in endless waiting rooms with squirmy children. I filled out all the admission paperwork under the title of guardian, (even though I desperately wanted somebody to fill it out as "mother"). It was the surgical consent paperwork that made me take a step back. It was the same sheet I have had families fill out countless times. But now the shoe was on the other foot. Something bad could happen to my children? What!? I finally have an understanding the fear that patients feel at these clauses and why some won't sign them. I knew that these surgeries were life saving, life giving, and necessary for these kids but it was still scary. I walked into pre-op with David said a quiet prayer, for him, his doctors, and for myself and watched as they wheeled him away. Later that night I went back and found him being his goofy happy self with a cast from toes to thigh. If not for that cast you would never have known anything was wrong (He is recovering so well. We will go back in August for a check up and cast removal.)
The next day I sat in a wheelchair holding Lydia, while my housemate sat in another wheelchair holding Nolan, and we were wheeled from the paediatric ward to the operating theatre. Out of all of the children with us Lydia was the weakest. At seven years old she weighed about 20 pounds, couldn't talk or sit up. But she had an infectious smile and laugh that continued through lab tests and IV starts. As I sat in pre-op holding her I thought of how this surgery would change her life. When we came home to Ongole we would mix up high protein nutritious meals to make her beautifully chubby. I said a quick silent prayer over her and her doctors as they took her from my arms to the OT. Then I left to go back to my room to rest and have lunch. Lydia had a rough time recovering immediately post-op , which isn't something that surprised me considering her condition, but five days later she was discharged to the care of the SCH nurse (I had already come back to Ongole to help with the move). She was out of the hospital 8 hours when the nurse noted she was bloated and clammy. She took her to the emergency room and Lydia was readmitted. At 5am I woke up to a phone call from Lydia's housemother frantically telling me that Lydia had passed away. It felt like all the air was knocked out of me. As I talked to the doctor I found that Lydia had in fact coded and had been revived and intubated. Silent tears started streaming down my face. The doctor said that she was responding to treatments and her vitals were improving. While I believe in a God who heals miraculously my nursing brain kept nagging that the facts were stacked against Lydia. She battled in between two worlds but in the end her Daddy called her home.
I have had many patients die but this time was so different. She was a child who I had seen full of life. Who just one week prior had been playing with my curly blond hair giggling to herself. I was not Lydia's house mother and I didn't know her nearly as long as Sarah but I was attached to her in a very different way then I had every been with my patients back home.
I struggled, and their are moments when I still struggle, with Lydia's home going. But when I look at the faces of these children here I am renewed. God has called me as a nurse to serve, to love and to advocate for His special children. He has given me a new title to help me complete this role well and it is now full of meaning; Amma.
~Pray for Cassie, Lydia's house mother, Sarah, and Lydia's nurse as they grieve her passing.
~Pray for Nolan who is healing very well and will come home this week. Pray also for Alesa who had emergency brain surgery for a failed shunt.
~Pray for us as we continue to move the children into new homes. Pray for smooth transitions.
~Pray against the works of the Evil One. He has been powerfully at work this week against the SCH family.
~Praises that I was able to get a computer until I can get my other one fixed. (The language settings on the computer are Indian English which is British English spelling...)
If you know anything about medical care, you know it is expensive. SCH is funded entirely on donations. You can help us give the care our children need by clicking here
http://www.schindia.com/Special-Projects/urgent-surgery-fund/ 
