Here in Battambang, our days have consisted of pre-natal visits in the slums and on the streets with the homeless, building a path around the classrooms at the YWAM base, organising and labelling medical supplies, and of course – our daily “VBS” class (vacation bible school) that we have been teaching in a nearby village to the local children. The projects that we have been undertaking so far have been fantastic – I’ve felt so fulfilled being a part of it all.
Joanna has been incredible; she has taken us girls under her wing and involved us in everything. We visited the street families today to do some pre-natal check-ups on some of the women that Jo has being attending to. People literally call the streets their “home” in this place, with their hammocks hanging at the back of old buildings or between a tree and a fence on the sidewalk. Smoking and paint-sniffing is prevalent here on the streets (especially among the children) and a way for the homeless and jobless to pass the time. The children look so much younger here in Cambodia - especially here on the streets and in the slums. They are so much smaller for their age compared to children in developed countries, perhaps due to malnutrition.
We arrive at the street where Jo and Whitney have been making friends with the homeless families. There are several pregnant women here who we are going to check on, one lady who is two months pregnant and the other, Srey-Maou who is five months pregnant, and later, utterly breaks my heart.
Jo checks the first woman’s blood pressure (whose name I can’t recall), her pulse, checks the sound of her breathing, heart beat and also listens for the baby’s heartbeat using a small, portable ultrasound machine. She then measures the size of the baby by using a measuring tape across the woman’s growing bulge. This particular woman is sixteen years old and very excited to be having a baby. The foetus is small yet, but Jo can just make out the tiny drumming of its heart on the ultrasound. Everything is looking good for Mum, and Jo marks down her progress on the pre-natal charts.
Then we meet Srey-Maou. She is a lovely-looking woman with curly black hair (unusual for Cambodian women) and a warm smile. She is shy at first and speaks no English, but Jo is able to translate anything we say to her in Khmer. Jo had last seen Srey-Maou two months into her pregnancy. Jo was already seeing six or seven women on the streets to monitor their pregnancies, which is more than she has the time and resources for already. But then she met Srey-Maou three months ago and having such a big heart for what she does, decided to conduct an initial check on her to make sure everything was going okay. This woman is now five months pregnant.
The initial look of Jo’s face upon seeing Srey-Maou tells me that something could be wrong. Neither of us can see any baby showing, and at five months, this should not be the case. Srey-Maou tells us that her last baby was very small, and she did not even begin to show significantly until five and a half months. Jo takes Srey-Maou’s blood pressure, pulse, listens to the sound of her lungs and heart. Jo then instructs her to lie down so that she can conduct the ultrasound. I am in shock when Jo lifts her shirt – her belly is washboard-flat. No sign of baby. Jo tells us that the baby could just be very small, but at five months we will be able to hear a clear heartbeat.
The ultra-sound is troubling to all of us – Jo can not pick up a heartbeat. Seeing no other signs of pregnancy, Jo asks Srey-Maou if she has experienced any bleeding, indicating a possible miscarriage. Srey-Maou shakes her head and tells us that everything is normal, that she feels normal and knows that there is definitely a baby inside of her. Jo wants to make sure, so she instructs Srey-Maou to give a urine sample so that we can conduct a pregnancy test. My stomach feels sick as I watch Srey-Maou watch the test strip. I feel so scared for her; I can only imagine how she must be feeling. We later find out that Srey-Maou’s husband has another wife in Poipet. She must be excited about the pregnancy as it would bring her husband closer to her. I cannot imagine what it must be like – raising a baby on the street with no home and no money. Part of me is hoping that she is not pregnant, that the morning sickness and lack of a period just meant that Srey-Maou had the stomach flu, and was not pregnant to begin with. But a part of me hopes beyond hope that she is pregnant, and that her baby is healthy. After five months knowing that there is something growing inside of her, Srey-Maou is already a Mother.
The test strip has been sitting there for five minutes. I ask Jo what it says, and she looks sadly at me and says that it is negative. As Jo tells her what the test means, Srey-Maou’s expression does not change; she speaks to Jo in Khmer, and Jo translates for us. Srey-Maou is convinced that there is a baby inside of her, no matter what the test shows. Jo feels that we need to honour this; Srey-Maou knows her body more than anyone. We all agree to take her to Battambang hospital for a proper ultra-sound, so we can find out what is going on inside her. She would never be able to afford the $US 5 that it would cost to get the ultra-sound. But for the three of use, this is mere pocket change. Jo, Whitney and myself agree then and there that we want to be there for Srey-Maou whatever the outcome of the ultra-sound.
The four of us – Jo, Whitney, Srey-Maou and myself share two bicycles and ride to Battambang hospital. I think to myself as we walk through the doors that this is the kind of place where you would leave more ill than you went in. It is no hospital by Australian standards, but Jo tells me that by Cambodian standards, it is one of the better hospitals in the country.
As the three of us stand around Srey-Maou in the ultra-sound room, we can see how nervous she looks. We all have our hands on her; we want to make sure she does not feel alone. The doctor speaks to us in English. I wonder whether it is his rudimentary English, or whether he has conducted too many ultra-sounds in his lifetime, but unfeelingly and gruffly, he tells us that Srey Maou was indeed pregnant, but that baby that lies inside of her is now dead. It has died at two months, but instead of miscarrying the baby, it has stayed inside of her womb for three months and calcified. I don’t know why Srey-Maou has not miscarried her baby. Jo does not say anything. But I can only guess that a lack of nutrients in her diet has not left her body enough energy to miscarry, let alone to finish creating a child.
Had Jo not gone to the street that day to check on Srey-Maou, it is likely she would have eventually died due to an infection from the dead baby that had sat in her womb for so long. Jo is mentally kicking herself for not checking on Srey-Maou sooner. But to me, it is because of Jo that she is now alive today. It costs over $250 dollars for Srey-Maou to undergo surgery to have the foetus removed from her womb. It is unlikely that she would see that kind of money in a lifetime, living on the streets. For the three of us, it is easy to split that kind of money between us.
Srey-Maou is truly a beautiful woman. And through the ordeal, the most important thing that we felt we could do for her was to make her feel like she wasn’t alone; to make her feel loved and valued. I only spent one day with her, but it made me realise that there must be so many women like this. Women living on the street. Women whose husbands have other wives (a common practice in Cambodia). Women who are so under-nourished that the babies inside of them cannot live through a full-pregnancy. The most important thing that we can give to these women is a sense of value and to show them God’s unfailing love. We need to care for them, their children, their families. We need to educate them about health and hygiene, nutrition and childbirth. Jo is already doing this daily, with what resources she has. But so much more can be done. I have committed to sending Jo regular donations so that she can provide her friends on the streets and in the slums with the vitamins they so desperately need to give birth to healthy babies.
I encourage anyone who feels moved by this story, to join me.
If you would like to know more about what Jo is doing in Battambang, or ways that you feel you could help, please contact me, through Ralph.
Renee