Standing In My Gap
We went on our second hospital tour yesterday. During our first hospital tour, we sipped fruit-infused water, and Lifa ate fresh cookies from the hospital chef. I pregnant-cried over the intimacy of care, and Chris dreamt of bringing his parents there to see the baby. Lifa put all his attention into his coloring project, desperately trying not to hear body part words.
All three of us found comfort when we were taken into the labor and delivery rooms. Lifa (who’s visited some very scary hospitals with me in the past) said, “This doesn’t smell like what I thought it would. It looks like a hotel. I’m jealous you and Dad get to stay here!” (I quickly reminded him that I’d be pushing an entire human out of a very small part of my body while his grandparents were spoiling him. Jealousy immediately subsided.)
The labor and delivery rooms were the loveliest rooms you’ve ever seen. They each had a gorgeous tub for water births. Instead of a hospital bed, there was a fluffy, queen-sized bed so new dads could stay with their families. There was a mini fridge for snacks, a recliner in the corner for visiting grandpas, and a chandelier hanging above the ceiling instead of fluorescent lighting. It was a state-of-the-art birthing center, like no other in South Africa. Our South African medical insurance would pay for our delivery in full there because of the center had already become the leader in the nation for natural births and outstanding medical care. It was borderline ridiculous and wonderfully comforting at the same time.
Do you see what I mean!?! Image from https://www.originmaternityhospitals.com/
The hospital was designed for protecting a family’s intimacy – a prayer I had prayed specifically for this birth. I thought daily of bringing this miracle I carry into the world to meet his daddy and brother there. The hospital called a few months later to say they were closing their doors indefinitely, and I would have to find a new place to give birth. South Africa’s economy could not sustain the model. I was devastated for the midwives and medical staff whose hearts and souls were invested in their work. I went home that day and cried big, ugly tears for myself because the one thing we had a secure plan for, amongst all the things, had just fallen through. The crash-bang-boom of the birth center temporarily took my sense of security with it. There are plenty of good hospitals, and we have the very greatest OBGYN. This was not a crisis. But it sure did feel like one.
Our new hospital - an outstanding medical facility!
The good news is that our doctor moved to a hospital that is only two minutes from our house. It’s an established hospital in Cape Town, already known as “the best place to give birth” amongst the locals. We are in great shape!
My first visit to the hospital was alone. Chris stayed home because Lifa was in bed while I went in for a CTG to check on baby’s movement- all was fine! And there is still a recliner!
We showed up two weekends in a row for the hospital tour there due to staff giving us wrong information. Children weren’t allowed, and Chris and I almost got turned away the second time for another misunderstanding. Our tour guide was absolutely lovely, and more than willing to patiently answer all questions. My mind whirred as we walked my much larger baby bump through the hallways we would come back to soon. Instead of envisioning the beautiful intimacy of birth, I tried not to get disheartened by how hospital-y this hospital was. I tried not to imagine saying goodbye to Chris and sharing a room with another new mom and baby in the event that the two private rooms had already been filled.
To be clear: This is a GREAT hospital. Very much like a hospital where I might have delivered in America. There’s not a single thing to complain about, and I can’t wait for the day we meet our baby boy inside those walls. But, yesterday, being in a very hospital-feeling hospital made me want to cry for my mom and hug my NaNa. If you have to be in a hospital, your cousins should be able to come visit you there. It’s an institution that makes you need the institution you were formed in: your family.
The obligatory weekly baby bump photo I take in my closet to send the moms and sister. 31 weeks today!
I came home and had another good cry. Not because I won’t give birth under a chandelier but because the gap between Africa and America suddenly felt extra-extra-large. It’s a gap our parents feel more every day, especially since announcing our pregnancy.
As my belly grows, my yearning for all the family grows. I want to show my sister my belly button and plan the nursery in person instead of video. I want to hear my mom squeal when she feels the little wild child dance in my womb and swap baby stories with my cousins. The gap between us seems to grow larger as I do. As we start the single-digit weekly countdown (NINE WEEKS!!!), I can’t go a day without daydreaming of my family welcoming our son into the world face-to-face instead of screen-to-screen.
On a day not far from today - maybe even tomorrow, I will be able to shout out with gratitude that my God is currently giving me the ability to stand in the depths of a deep, dark gap that cries out for family.
We are foreigners who’ve made a home in a city of 4 million people. News, statistics and our daily encounters have showed us that the majority of those 4 million live in that gap, whether they have family here or not. We were all made for Family – the capital letter, Forever Family. There is a chandelier, personal chef, grandpa-recliner day coming where the safety, sanctity of the entire Forever Family is protected. That day will have no more crash-boom-bangs, no more tears, no more sorrow, and the gap will be forever filled.
Until that day, we have the privilege of climbing down into the deepest parts of the gap with others whose hearts cry for a Family. We get to tell them about the Man who stretched his arms wide on the cross to bridge the gap, and tell them the day is coming. We get to invite them to Love Jesus Church, to be a part of a family that loves them and lives for the Forever Family that’s coming.
So, today I might still be having a hormonal pregnancy pity party… You should all pray for my husband… But there will be a tomorrow where I throw those longings into the fire of my heart and use them as fuel for what I’m made for. My gap is joy-lined because I know what’s ahead. I’m so ready to spend a lifetime taking my joy into the gaps with others and introducing them to the gap-bridger named Jesus.