An intriguing child delivery in my PHC

Dr Keisang M Maring *

It's only human to want, in life, what guarantees us a great return. Sometimes we are consigned in a situation where everything we do appears unrewarding and we feel like dropping everything down. Amidst such dispiriting state, uplifting and amusing events come our way that boost us up.

The isolated location of the PHC Machi in the wilds, built on the summit of a hill, away from the villages, with no electricity and water facility, and poor attendance of patients—all these unbecoming settings make me and the rest of the staff feel dampened and indolent.

The delivery of a male child, first of its kind ever in the history of the PHC, on 30th July 2012, not only marked a new phase in the development of the health centre but also is a paradigm—of a change for the better—to be encouraged; and it has really raised our spirits, breaking the silence of the PHC.

On that eventful day, we reached the health centre at midday. As we stepped into it, I saw patients numbering about thirty. I absently swept my gaze across the faces as I walked through the hallway.

Opposite to the room I occupied was another room. When I came to my fourth patient in the course of OPD service, I saw a rowdy group of men and women scurried into the opposite room carrying a woman, followed by two women with blankets and a pillow. The room was thronged with people later on. In hurry they walked in and out.

"What's going on over there?" I asked the staff nurse.

She replied, "A pregnant woman in labor."

How? The woman made neither shout nor cry. Never before did we have such medical emergency.

One of my work colleagues along with three nurses attended her while I carried on my job. By 3 pm the cry of the newly born baby rippled through the air.

For all concerned, it was a tender wave of affection. What made me curious was the silence the woman maintained throughout the delivery. "This is out of the usual run of things," I thought.

"Sure her body might have been smarting from the labor pangs. But what stifled her? Shyness? Or is she extraordinarily gifted with strength?"

As I was preparing delivery and discharge notes, the father of the baby came and stood in front of me; nodding heavily, he would smile each time I put a query and disappeared.

At my call, another man with two women—one young and the other old-came and said to me, "I am the younger brother of the baby's father." Then the older woman, pointing to the younger one, introduced, "She's the sister-in-law of the baby's father and I am the grandmother of the baby."

A big sense of ownership was built towards the child. They named the baby on the spot. The grandmother continued, "The child's name will be Moshangthil."

I asked her teasingly, "What? Say again." "His name will be Moshangthil," she reaffirmed rather slowly, bending little forward.

"He's the first son and born here in Shangthil hence the name."

At every call, anyone of them would quickly appear before me like a jack-in-the-box. The eagerness to go home took possession of them which made me feel the need to hasten my writing.

"You've seen the baby?" our MO i/c asked me gleefully. "Not yet," I replied.

Then, he insisted, "Go! Go and see!"

On the bed, the baby was wrapped around with ragged clothes, half of the head exposed, and hair sparsely grown; he grimaced often shutting his eyes tautly.

We did appreciate the woman who came all the way from her village surmounting all the inconveniences and chose the PHC for her refuge.

After explaining every advice and instructions we sent them home. We stayed up the whole afternoon till 5 pm that day and walked home.

The birth of the baby was celebrated, I was told, with a grand dinner party in their village.