Reader's Digest has some of the most inspirational stories I've read.
A Little Miracle
It was March 3, 2001, and as a fourth-year medical student I had just started my obstetrics rotation in a rundown, sparsely equipped government hospital in Manila. My co-clerks and I referred to the hospital as a "baby factory." During a 24-hour period, it was not unusual for the staff to attend to the birth of 180 babies.
This particular day, which was also my 25th birthday, marked my first ever shift working in a delivery room. I felt ill-prepared for the coming onslaught of women giving birth. I felt inexperienced, and half the time I was praying that I wouldn't drop the slippery infant as he came out to the world.
I soon got the hang of things. During deliveries, I would encourage the mothers by saying "Push, Mummy, so we can see if your baby is a girl or a boy!" In this hospital, women often saw a doctor for the first time on the day they were about to give birth. Finding out the sex of the infant was usually enough motivation for them to push with all their might.
Around 10 p.m. - 15 hours into my shift - a patient was brought to my delivery table. She was in her late 20s, fair-skinned and with long straight hair. It was her second pregnancy, and she was weeping softly. The woman had come to the emergency room because she had not felt her baby kicking for several days. She had a brown foul-smelling discharge that reeked of death, and doctors could not detect a heartbeat using a Doppler ultrasound. The baby, she was told, was dead.
It was my job to deliver the stillborn infant. I wondered why this poor woman wasn't given a Caesarean to ease her suffering, but I assumed that, since this was a busy hospital, no operating theatres were available. Besides, the obstetric resident told me that it would an "easy delivery" because the baby was dead and the mother had given birth before. She said I should have the baby out in less than 30 minutes.
For the first time that night, I was silent. How could I convince this woman to push, just so she could deliver her dead child into the world?
After almost an hour, the resident returned and asked me why it was taking so long. I whispered that I could feel the infant's head, but the mother just wasn't pushing enough. I asked if I could speed up the delivery by doing an episiotomy, a small incision to enlarge the birth canal. She nodded her approval.
I quickly made the incision and felt the baby pop into my hands. He was a lovely little boy, weighing about three kilos. As was normal practice, I placed the infant on a sterile sheet I had draped over the mother's abdomen. She looked at her dead son, then turned her head away. I was quiet the whole time. There are simply no words to say to a woman who has just given birth to a dead infant.
As I started to suture the incision I had made, I heard a small cough. I looked up at the baby, who was still on the mother's belly. Then I heard the loveliest and loudest sound in my life. He was screaming his lungs out! All I could say was, "Mummy, your baby is alive!" over and over again. Her soft cries turned into convulsive happy tears. "Doctor, thank you for bringing my child to life," she said repeatedly.
It was the most memorable birthday I ever had. Nothing compares to that magical moment when I experienced the wonderful miracle of birth and learned first-hand that doctors are not gods. By all accounts, the infant should have been dead. It was then I realised that if I were to make a mistake as a doctor, this was the kind I would not mind making - to be proven wrong by a patient who turns out to be alive when I thought he was dead.
I never found out what happened to that woman and her baby after they were discharged. But I will never forget them. They made me believe that miracles do happen.
