As I look back at the years of my adult life, I am kind of amazed at some of the things I have experienced. Some might call me brave and adventurous, but others will consider my choices irresponsible and stupid! And at any given time, I could agree with either of those opinions.
On February 2, 1977, I added another item to my list of adventures when I gave birth in the foreign (and I mean FOREIGN) country of Iran. Call it crazy or call me courageous, we were thrilled to welcome a new little boy – even if he was considered a dual national for about 16 years.
This was the view from my hospital room – very foreign as were some of the procedures.
About two weeks before Nathan was born, Don and I went to a pharmacy, prescription from Dr. Shams in hand, and bought all of the supplies and medication I would need for labor and delivery. We left the pharmacy with a bag filled with shots, pills, and IV materials, having spent only $9.00. What a bargain! Upon my arrival at the hospital, I handed over my bag of goodies to the attending nurse, and we were set.
Inside the hospital, my room was very typical and was cleaned regularly – like at all hours of the day and night. However, the communal bathroom designated for my use was wa-a-a-a-a-y down the hall, and the broken toilet seat and blood on the floor made me question my sanity. Why exactly did I decide not to return to Colorado to have this baby?
We wanted all the family to see how cute our little boy was. So we sent lots of pictures and wished the grandmas could adore him in person.
While we were doing all the paperwork to be discharged from the hospital, Nate reached his limit and began crying almost inconsolably. As I had made it very clear from the time I was checked into the hospital that this would be a bottle-fed baby, I asked one of the nurses to bring me a bottle for him. Her response in broken English, “Oh, no missus. You feed.” I replied that I was not feeding, and hadn’t they been giving him bottles in the nursery? Again the response, “Oh, no missus. You feed.” When I insisted, one of the staff finally showed up with a bottle that was so dirty it looked like it had been rolled through the “jube” or gutter. The hole in the nipple was so large that when I tipped the bottle, the milk ran out of it in a steady stream. Horrified, I set the bottle aside and decided that listening to Nathan scream was a far better alternative. I refused to allow myself to wonder what he’d been fed in the nursery.
We were relieved to leave the hospital for the security of our own home, and felt that the Lord had truly taken care of both Nathan and Mom.
What a sweet welcoming committee awaited us.