Letters from Amanda: Leaving Haiti

I joined this incredible organization, Midwives for Haiti, for but a week but it will most likely touch me for years to come.

Hi family and friends —

We made it back to the Bay Area in one piece and I have returned to work. Whoa — it’s very different here…

Our drive from Hinche to the airport in Porte-Au-Prince took 3 ½ anxiety filled hours. The pink jeep definitely seems to be on her last legs. While Roland and Jonal did their best to keep us safe, we wound around mountainsides with no power steering and leaking oil. We stopped at least 4 times to fill up but she kept running all the way through the slums and post earthquake tent cities to the airport. As was the case on arrival, we were surrounded by porters and vendors all looking for dollars in their pockets. We passed through unscathed into the more peaceful internal airport setting. Having left my needles, sutures and IVs behind in Hinche, I made it through security with far more ease than during my arrival. When the most “dangerous” item in your bag is 4 oz of Haitian hot sauce, you know that your medical mission is coming to a close.

The 14 hours I spent in Miami almost seem unreal — with the exception of the AMAZING first hot shower of 9 days. To think that huge state-of-the-art medical centers are less than 2 hours away from the chronic disrepair of the Haitian medical system kept blowing my mind. Layer that sensation over the self-indulgent, superficial party scene (of which I have previously partaken and enjoyed:) in Miami and I felt woefully out of sorts. I sat on the floor of my sister-in-law’s guest room just wondering, where do I go from here?

Return home to D and the boys, however, was restorative. The abounding love and excitement of my first hugs from the boys, I cherished with renewed appreciation. I looked at them — healthy, handsome, fun, growing, intelligent — how blessed these boys are and how fortunate am I to have them. Of course, that triggered thoughts of the children in the boys’ and girls’ orphanages who delight in just bringing tootsie pops and Polaroids. Comparisons are not helpful, but I even more strongly believe that our investments of love and nurturing of our children will be sustaining gifts for the rest of their lives. I actually am a good Mama…

At work today for my first long Labor and Delivery shift, I worried about lack of empathy. Almost as if from a script, I immediately faced a patient with a premature baby and ruptured membranes refusing all intervention. In my gut, I wanted to shake her and shout, “You f’ing idiot — don’t you realize how fortunate you are to have antibiotics and pitocin to keep you and your baby from getting sepsis?!” Fortunately, my super ego has remained intact, and I said no such thing. Actually, I could feel that visceral reaction shift into a re-framing of her requests. She does have the safety net of 1st world medicine so she has every right to exercise this privilege. Every mother counts and every mother should have the safest and happiest birth possible.

I joined this incredible organization, Midwives for Haiti, for but a week but it will most likely touch me for years to come. I will undoubtedly join them again and keep the work near and dear to my heart. What a privilege it has been to strip down to my core self and to experience the presence of such a resilient and spirited people. I went to Haiti to help a population of medical women fine tune their skills and to re-set my personal gratitude meter. I have returned home with a re-calibrated worldview and a deepened appreciation for my many blessings, including all of you.

Thank you for keeping me in your thoughts and prayers during this journey.

Wishing you love,
Amanda