In late spring of 2004, Tyler and I visited Carrefour, a section of Port-au-Prince, with a gentleman named Obenson (How It All Began). We were there to help Obenson with his “Ministry Taking Care of Children.” This was our second trip to Carrefour with Obenson, and we planned to meet the children he wanted us to help him care for. Our goals were to meet the families, see the needs first hand, and document through photos that each child truly did exist.

It was just a few hours into our second day. We had been walking around Carrefour meeting one family at a time, taking photos and writing notes of each child, when we came to three factory buildings. They were long buildings with no windows and just one door at the front. Many families lived in these buildings, with each family securing a section for themselves by hanging sheets. Inside it was pitch black and intensely hot.

As soon as we arrived, the children, most of them without clothes, surrounded us with big giant smiles. We were interesting looking guests. Soon the parents followed their children in greeting us. We were the Americans that Obenson had told them about. As people gathered about, a lady holding a newborn caught my eye. She was a petite, older woman, and the baby was her new granddaughter Babara, who she proudly showed to everyone, including us. Babara was very small and looked jaundiced, and I was concerned. Through our interpreter Ernst, I asked about her and learned that she had been born one week ago. Then I asked Ernst about the mother and requested that she come out so I could meet her. (I have an extensive background in childbirth having studied midwifery, taught childbirth classes, and attended hundreds of births.) As soon as I saw the mother up close, I knew she was sick. The young woman’s name was Ketly. She was 18 years old and a single mother living with her mother. She was suffering from sore breasts and could not breastfeed, but I suspected she also had a uterine infection, because even a week after delivery, she was still having painful contractions.

By this time, Tyler had finished taking pictures, and the men were preparing to leave. But in my heart, I knew I couldn’t just leave. So I talked to Ernst about Ketly. His first response was that there was nothing we could do. I explained to him, and he explained to Obenson, that if we did not get medical attention for Ketly and her baby, they would both die in a few days. After a few moments of discussion concerning the cost and feasibility of taking them to the hospital, we made the decision to put our plans on hold and take Ketly and her baby to the hospital, which was about a mile away. Tyler and I would assume responsibility for payment. (In Haiti, patients aren’t even seen without payment up front.)

We left the factory building and began the one-mile walk to the hospital with Ketly, her baby, her grandmother, and a friend. (Yes, we had to walk. There are no ambulances available in Haiti.) I carried Babara because Ketly couldn’t. She was very weak and struggled with each step to move forward, plus she was having severe uterine contractions. On top of the infection, Ketly hadn’t eaten in days and was likely malnourished. Tyler walked next to her, and every few moments he offered to carry her, but she declined.

When we finally reached the hospital grounds, some 30-40 minutes later, we entered the first building we came to, only to be sent to another building for the emergency room. Ketly and Babara were allowed to go into the E.R. and lie on a bed while Tyler, Ernst, and Obenson registered them and paid. An hour later they returned with the news that payment had to be made in Haitian currency, which we didn’t have. So I left with Obenson to get a cash advance from my credit card to pay for Ketly’s 10-day stay. However, nothing is easy in Haiti. When we arrived at the bank, we were told they wouldn’t do anything without my passport. We left the bank, went to the hotel for the passport, and returned. Then they would only give me U.S. money, but the hospital had already told us they would only take Haitian currency. So we were off looking for a money changer. Finally, one and a half hours later, we returned to the hospital with the necessary funds.

While I stayed with Babara in the ER, Ketly was sent to a different building, with Tyler, Obenson, and Ernst in tow to pay. Once payment was made, the men then needed to go to the pharmacy (a different building on the same campus) to purchase all the medical supplies that Ketly and the baby would need while in the hospital. These included a thermometer, IV bags, needles, etc. (Haitian hospitals do not provide patients with any supplies—everything has to be purchased and given to the nurse.)

The baby had not eaten in days, so she just slept while I kept watch over her.

We were in a small room with three beds and a single light bulb hanging off wires from the ceiling. Next to us was a woman who sounded as though she was in labor. Two young girls nervously watched her. I noticed a great deal of blood on the floor and had concerns for her. After a little while, the girls came over to ask me to look at their friend. They were talking in Creole, but from their hand gestures, I figured out that their friend was pregnant with twins, and the twins had died. The laboring woman was lying on a bare mattress, unconscious and unclothed. One leg was set in a stirrup, and the other hung off the bottom of the bed. Occasionally she would thrash with her contraction. I had to quickly let go of my American sense of privacy, because if someone didn’t step in on her behalf, this woman was going to die.

The men returned about an hour later, and now with an interpreter, I was able to ask the nurse my questions about the young woman. She needed a cesarean, but her husband had not yet come in with the $200-payment for the procedure. Frantically, we tried to figure out the financial details. First there was the procedure, the hospital stay, drugs, medical supplies, and possible complications. But it was all too late. As I checked in on her, she was agonal breathing (a type of breathing that occurs right before death) and in a few breaths she was gone. Instantly the air filled with the wailing screams of the two young girls who had stood by their friend.   As I stood there listening, looking at the woman on the blood-soaked bed. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. A laboring woman, knowing she was in trouble, had somehow managed to get to a hospital, only to lie on a bed and die because no one had come in to pay. All the while, a doctor walked about totally unconcerned.

Finally, after all of this, Ketly and Babara were brought to their rooms (mother and baby were housed in separate buildings). Ketly was diagnosed with breast, uterine, and lung infections. With antibiotics, she recovered slowly. Babara suffered from dehydration, but she improved quickly with intravenous feedings and formula.

A few days after Ketly’s admission to the hospital, Tyler and I had to return to the United States. However, we left Ernst and Obenson with enough money to complete the payment for the hospital stay and to buy food and formula for Ketly and Babara. Both men were so faithful in their stewardship and visited Ketly and Babara everyday to bring food and check on their progress.

NKJV …If anyone ministers, let him do it as with the ability which God supplies,   that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belong the glory and the dominion forever and ever, Amen
 1 Peter 4:11

Today Ketly is involved in our WORK Haiti Program and is one of our cross-stitching ladies. Tyler and I have a very special bond with her and feel as if she is our own daughter. We are happy to have been a part of Ketly’s and her baby’s recovery.

In Haiti, everything is difficult. Things we take for granted here in the United States, such as a person’s medical needs taking priority over payment, don’t exist there. Ketly and her baby were dying from things that we wouldn’t imagine dying from in the United States. But they couldn’t pay. In fact they never even sought medical care, because it was beyond their reach. Most Haitians cannot afford to eat everyday, let alone see a doctor.

We at TLOT feel blessed that we were given the opportunity to provide for Ketly and her baby. And it is our hope, we can continue to step in for others in Haiti, giving God all the glory.