Unexpected Hope

Imagine this. It is the day that you’re due to have your first child. You do not know what to expect: will delivery be easy, will the baby be healthy and strong, will the nurses be kind, will you have enough money to buy the baby what he or she needs?

It is time to leave for the hospital, so you pack a few basics in a strong plastic bag. You have to travel lightly, as you’re going by transport (taxi). At the hospital, you have to join a long queue – it will be a while before you get to lie down in a bed. It is hot, and the sound of women experiencing the real pain that comes with childbirth ensures that you cannot let your mind escape from the reality of your situation. You try not to think of how you’ll afford the things you need for your soon-to-be-born baby’s first few days of life. This worry does not leave you – but things cannot be reversed. You will have to make a plan.

***

You lie back in the bed – exhausted but incredibly grateful that your little person has made it into the world safely. What will his life be like, you wonder. Better than yours? Will he be able to provide for his wife one day when she has her first child? Will he drive her to hospital in a car, will she have a nice strong overnight bag packed with clothes and baby necessities – and will she get to stay the night in a hospital, so she can be sure that the baby is okay? You really do hope that he will have a life that allows for this. Lost in these thoughts, and tired from the exertion, you doze in and out of sleep.

You’re awoken by a gentle, but nevertheless persistent, hand which is shaking your shoulder. The nurse who is shaking your shoulder has kind eyes, but you can see that she is tired. She asks you to start gathering your belongings as they need you to make space for the next mother-to-be. You gather your few possessions and wrap your most precious belonging in a hand-me-down blanket, readying yourself for the daunting trip home. But you’re used to this, you reassure yourself – trying to still the fear and anxiety. You’ll be okay – as you always are.

As you make your way towards the hospital exit, you notice people who don’t look like they have come to the hospital for the reasons people usually visit hospitals. They seem a little too happy – and don’t look as if they’ve queued for hours. You know you’ve got a while to travel, so you try and walk around the group to avoid getting caught up. They have other plans. Seeing your baby, they ask if they can pray for you. Why not, you think. Then, most unexpectedly, they give you a bag – for which they want nothing in return. It is heavy, but you are grateful because inside this bag are all the things that your baby will need for the first few days of his life. As you leave the happy people and their bags of hope, you can’t help but think that despite the huge way in which your life has changed today, things just might turn out okay.

Although this is a fictitious story, it tells how gift packs made by The Grace Factory are distributed in government hospitals and clinics across Johannesburg and in Sasolburg. Each pack is valued at around R150 – R200 and contains the following: 20 nappies; bum cream; baby lotion; wet wipes; maternity pads; a blanket; a newborn outfit; information on breastfeeding and a flyer on Impact Africa, an NPO offering a number of pregnancy and after-pregnancy-related counselling and education services.