By now, many family members are crowding the doors, becoming more desperate as time moves on. I try to ease their concern by saying “teru doctor” (good doctor) but they look past me. Crying turns to sobbing, as each family member finds a stoop to sit upon outside of the operating room that is maneuvered without running water.
By the time I have changed into scrubs, I see that the nurse anesthetist is already preparing Degie for her spinal block. I rush into the room, find a position that is far from the sterile field, and set up my camera. Within literally minutes, Dr. Philippa exclaims with excitement, “And…..WE HAVE A BABY!”. The room is filled with the glorious sound of the cries of a newborn baby.
Though extremely weak, Degie is now alert, and begins fervently looking about the room, her eyes tracking every move of where her baby is. I ask a midwife to bring the baby over to her so she can see it. He does so, and she stares deeply at the infant. I take a few photos of the baby, and exit the room. I can’t take my scrubs off fast enough to make my way outside. I show the family the photo of their newest addition and say ” konjo baby” (beautiful baby). The sisters and brothers press against each other to get a peek at the photo. The grandfather shouts for joy.
Degie’s parents are both dead, but she has a wide circle of support with her many brothers and sisters and grandparents. One young man looks particularly shy, and stands apart from the group. I move away from the crowd and show him the back of the camera. A slight smile starts at the corners of his mouth, and he looks intently into my eyes.
“Degie husband”, someone whispers. I turn to try to say something to him, but he has moved away. He now stands in front of the doorway, trying to get a glimpse of his wife.
