My daughter: A Miracle of the peaceful and developed country
By Kur Wel Kur, Australia
March 10, 2015 (SSB) — On December 15, 2013, my daughter was two weeks out of the hospital…
Four months down in her pregnancy, the mother of my daughters, Aluong Alier, visited her doctor for her normal antenatal check-ups at 11.00 a.m., on September 20, 2013, after the nurse took the samples of her blood and urine the week before. The doctor stared into her face, a face, which was a bit swollen.
The doctor asked her, “Do you experience some pain below the ribs? “
“Sometimes especially at night” she answered.
“Ms Kur (her family name not mine), the tests showed signs of pre-eclampsia, a fatal condition of abnormal pregnancy, which is characterised by high blood pressure, protein in the urine and swelling of hands, feet and face!”
“I know in your records that you had it during your first pregnancy, but it came late (after 7 months) and not serious then, but this time, it came early and in a full turn”.
“So what will happen?” She asked.
“You will stay in the hospital so the nurses can look after you” He prompted.
Aluong objected and asked the doctor so she could go home for a day. The doctor reluctantly allowed her and cautioned her to come back!
The phone call and the hospitalisation
She called to the hospital on the 20 of September, 2013, for an appointment because she was complaining of abdominal pain and some pain below the ribs, which kept her awake all night and her feet fattened (swollen) badly.
The doctors and nurses at Maternity department in Lyell McEwen (a small hospital with a few doctors and nurses) transferred her to Adelaide women and children’s hospital, the oldest and bigger hospital because Lyell McEwen is not suitable for foetuses under six months. In Adelaide women and children’s hospital, the RNs monitored the blood pressure and the baby’ s breathing
Our visits: My elder daughter and I
We used to visit her mum at women and children’ s hospital three times a week. My daughter hated every minute she spent leaving her mum; she would glue herself to her mum’s hospital bed, which she let go, after strings of promises.
” I am taking you to the park for a walk; or we are going to buy lollipops at the vending machine”, I would entice her. What killed me sometimes was her mum crying when she saw our daughter not willing to leave!
Aluong, One month later in the hospital.
RN (a registered nurse), explained to us, “As you may have heard from your GP, the effects of pre-eclampsia are: The blood-flow to the placenta becomes sluggish. As a result, the oxygen and nutrients are restricted so the baby could starve to death or become underweight”.
“For these reasons, your baby will be delivered prematurely”.
“If we can’t act now, Pre-eclamsia will cause abruptio placentae, a condition in which, the placenta separates from uterine wall”. She advised us.
The theatre, the cesarean birth and the fear
The RN transferred Aluong to the theatre for cesarean birth.
In a theatre, which was full of different and complicated machines. Some of the machines were hissing, some were beeping and some were making indescribable sounds. A surgeon in his late sixties with his team of assistants, the Anesthesiologist, the neonatal carers and I, assembled in the theatre. The nurse told me to sit on a chair in front of Aluong.
” You can talk to her or hold her hand,” the nurse told me.
However, I sat there like a lifeless and deactivated robot. The fear crumbled the inside of me; the fear of the valley of death. She would smile to cheer me up instead of me supporting her psychologically, but my sadness, bitterness and fear disarmed me of my consciousness.
As the surgeon was doing what he does best, he was also chatting with his assistants, which assured me of my daughter and her mother’s safety. I surfed the world in million of thoughts but I would drift back to listen to the surgeons’ conversations.
The surgeon finished the cesarean and my daughter was delivered with the weight of 930 grams at 3:15 on 2.10.2013! She was tiny to the point that I couldn’t help looking away in disappointment.
She twisted her dot mouth to let out the anger; the anger of the unknown, noisy and unfair world. She cried as the team of neonatologists wrapped her with baby towels and plugged the oxygen tube on her mouth and nose.
Visitors: Awan spent a month and half in an incubator and in the intensive care ward.
Visitors: my nieces, Yaro Garang de Mathiang and Ayak Lith Wel.
They Visited Awan. Awan’ s size and weight shocked them. My nieces, especially Yaro Garang talked to me about how Awan, being so tiny, that she wouldn’t handle it (the psychological pressure) if she were the mother!
I would force some words out to keep the conversation going, and pretended that the situation was normal but I was flooding my soul with rivers of tears. Psychologically, I was in pieces.
Awan spent a month in an incubator and in the intensive care ward.
My daughter remained in hospital and doctors discharged her mother on October 8, 2013. In developed countries like Australia, kids of her weights and ages receive special services.
My daughter had three specialised nurses that took turns in looking after her every 8 hours. The nurse on duty recorded her sleeping and waking times, feedings, medications and supplements.
The doctor discharged Awan on 22.11.2013.
Why peace matters!
I know deep in my heart that the story of my daughter shouldn’t concern you, but I am aiming for your empathy; especially you, those in the western countries, countries in which, you’re enjoying hundreds of years of peace and exponential growth in development in every corner of your life; be it health, wealth (economy), education, security (military might) or spiritual (freedom of religion).
Your support boosts the war morale. I wrote my daughter’s story for you because, if you want a game dead, then don’t kill the coach, discourage the fans/spectators. Or you love the business dead, then don’t kill the business owner, demoralise the customers. The same principle applies to the war.
Assume, my daughter was delivered in Bentiu’s, Malakal’s or Bor’s hospital, then her follow-ups treatments hadn’t been possible, treatments, which were essential to her normal growth and life.
Do I have to tell you what happened to those hospitals and patients in them?
I hope you pretty know…
Please increase your empathy for the victims of South Sudan’s war. I took courage to write this story in this tone not because I am a coward or neutral, but because my child is alive today because of the peace and development in this country (Australia). Please if you reside in a peaceful and developed country or any of your family members has received a miracle of a peaceful and developed country, please don’t support the war.
Please support the peace because war is an enemy of peace and unity; unity allows us to do the followings:
In Peace and Unity, we build. In Peace and Unity, we cultivate. In Peace and Unity, our children go to school. In Peace and Unity, we travel (tour). In Peace and Unity, we run legitimate businesses.
Be ambassadors of Peace and Unity, you in the Western countries!
The opinion expressed here is solely the view of the writer. The veracity of any claim made are the responsibility of the author, not PaanLuel Wël: South Sudanese Bloggers (SSB) website. If you want to submit an opinion article or news analysis, please email it to paanluel2011@gmail.com. SSB do reserve the right to edit material before publication. Please include your full name, email address and the country you are writing from.
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