5 Projects- Narrative Ethnography
Nepal’s Prenatal Care System Almost Took My Baby’s Life
I was 25 and had recently become pregnant. I was ecstatic to embark on this pregnancy journey,
which was much better than my journey trying to go from one village to the next as a nurse in the remote
valleys of Kathmandu. My dear husband lives away from me. It takes all of me to muster the energy to
walk 3 hours. Trekking across the terrain, the weight of my pregnant belly drags me down. I consider
myself a healthy person, especially those 3-4 months. When my birth was nearing, I went to Kathmandu
to reunite with my husband.
March is a time from spring to the summer. My eyes squinted as I looked outside at the blinding
sunlight. The rays scorched my body, and the humidity caught up to my throat. I put my hand on my
ever-so-large bump. It has been five days, and my baby will not get out. Such as a stubborn little child my
girl was. As I took a step back in the house, the pain from my lower abdomen ripped across my back.
That must be the signs of labor. Inside my hips, I could feel her shaking and wiggling, pressuring me to go
down. I felt her coming. It had to be. The excitement of my baby took over me, and the pain subsided
momentarily. It was time.
“Baba, I think I am having labor pain”
I was 25 and had recently become pregnant. I was ecstatic to embark on this pregnancy journey,
which was much better than my journey trying to go from one village to the next as a nurse in the remote
valleys of Kathmandu. My dear husband lives away from me. It takes all of me to muster the energy to
walk 3 hours. Trekking across the terrain, the weight of my pregnant belly drags me down. I consider
myself a healthy person, especially those 3-4 months. When my birth was nearing, I went to Kathmandu
to reunite with my husband.
March is a time from spring to the summer. My eyes squinted as I looked outside at the blinding
sunlight. The rays scorched my body, and the humidity caught up to my throat. I put my hand on my
ever-so-large bump. It has been five days, and my baby will not get out. Such as a stubborn little child my
girl was. As I took a step back in the house, the pain from my lower abdomen ripped across my back.
That must be the signs of labor. Inside my hips, I could feel her shaking and wiggling, pressuring me to go
down. I felt her coming. It had to be. The excitement of my baby took over me, and the pain subsided
momentarily. It was time.
“Baba, I think I am having labor pain”
I called out to my husband as he entered the door fresh off from work. We immediately checked
to see if we had everything and frantically rushed to the hospital. Arriving at the hospital, we went to the
delivery ward. Creamy grime color plastered along the walls lined with eight cots, linking all with eight
future mothers and their families. I hear the women screaming the most blood-curdling sound I have ever
heard, spewing curses at their husbands. I saw women vomiting, ejecting green and yellow bile from their
mouths, often into the hands of their husbands. The sight was making me queasy.
I turned to my husband and said, “Baba, can we move to a different room?”
“No, we can’t afford that,” My husband responded.
Are you kidding me? I wanted to yell that to my husband. Why do I have to be surrounded by
these annoying ass women? Would birth look like this? I wanted to get my birth over with, now that I see
where I have to stay.
I let go of my husband’s hand that I was grasping so tightly and plopped onto the bed. Despite the
quality of this room so far, I counted myself fortunate to have the first bed in the second room, which
rested against the wall. I strained my neck to look back and marveled at the picture of Sai Baba, one of
my beloved religious figures. As I waited there, my urge to go to the restroom overcame me. I quickly
used it because the disgusting scent was increasing my desire to vomit.
quality of this room so far, I counted myself fortunate to have the first bed in the second room, which
rested against the wall. I strained my neck to look back and marveled at the picture of Sai Baba, one of
my beloved religious figures. As I waited there, my urge to go to the restroom overcame me. I quickly
used it because the disgusting scent was increasing my desire to vomit.
Back in bed, I looked around to see if the doctor would come. While I was holding down the pain,
I saw no sign of them. What the hell? I am at the top urban hospital where I expected doctors to attend to
their patients. Here, they do not bother to check me up. Why are there no baby monitors? I ask myself,
getting anxious at how my baby was doing. The nurses who thought they were taking care of me weren’t.
All they do is come by, take out their stethoscope, check the baby’s heartbeat, and tell me things are fine.
The point of patient care from one nurse to another nurse is to gauge the well-being of their patients. They
failed to do that. I am literally in pain, and they can’t even bother to comfort me.
“Still a long time to go,” The nurses tell me while checking my cervix, then leaving without
acknowledging me.
I did not know what labor was or what to anticipate. The nurse’s terrible treatment of me made me
think this was normal. As I was starting the process of labor, I heaved up from my bed to go to the nursing station to ask
them to check again, which they were hesitant to do. I tried to be satisfied with my help and accept that
my baby was going to be more careful than me. As my cervix began to dilate more, I prepared myself for
the incoming swath of pain. The nurses came and told me they were going to deliver my baby. Wasn’t that
the doctors’ job? I wasn’t going to ponder on that thought. I pushed so hard, heaving in and out, all
without an epidural.
Then my baby came out. My beautiful chori (daughter), I thought to myself. I waited for her to
breathe. One minute passes by. Nothing. What??! My eyes widened with the increasing rate of my heart. I
started trembling. Another minute passes. WHY ISN’T SHE BREATHING? My smile turned into sounds
of wailing as I cried out for my baby. She isn’t breathing right now, is she? Another minute passes by. I
felt my head becoming lighter and lighter. My baby will die, I thought to myself. The last two minutes felt
like a blur as my eyes teared up, and felt lightheaded. My husband and I went into full panic mode when
the pediatrician finally got here. They took my baby to their arm to check for responses. They were
minimal. I started sobbing. They whisked her away to the NICU, and I sat there trying to process what
happened. I turned to the Sai Baba behind me and prayed and prayed. Even when the sun went down, I
prayed some more, hoping God would breathe life into her for me.
the pediatrician finally got here. They took my baby to their arm to check for responses. They were
minimal. I started sobbing. They whisked her away to the NICU, and I sat there trying to process what
happened. I turned to the Sai Baba behind me and prayed and prayed. Even when the sun went down, I
prayed some more, hoping God would breathe life into her for me.
The nurses came to me the following day to inform me how my baby was doing. I could not meet
their eyes as they were explaining. I just had to see my baby. With all the strength I could muster, I held
on to my husband as we headed to the NICU. She was there, lying on top of the crib, so tiny and fragile.
When the nurses tried putting food in her mouth, she refused them. She did not even take the milk they
tried feeding her. My poor baby had an NG tube on her, sucking out the fluid from her body. I kept
coming back to the NICU as much as they allowed. When I inquired with the nurses, they all said the
same things.
“Things are not getting better.” It was not something I wanted to hear. It triggered me as I began
to lose hope that my daughter would ever recover.
Apeksha miraculously survived, thanks to this one nurse. This talented nurse noticed that the
previous antibiotics failed for a long time due to antibiotic resistance of the bacteria in her lung. The
doctor was very negligent, so this checks out. The nurse recommended using gentamicin.
The medicine begins the work. I could see that Apeksha was getting stronger and stronger by the
day. Regardless, because I could not breastfeed Apeksha and had to do it to other babies, my motivation
to care for myself was dwindling, and I fell into a deep depression.
The only thing that kept me afloat was
all the support I received from my family members, except for the ones who gave me the
disparaging comments that made me feel like I was already doomed to be a bad mother
“How did you not know what was going on?”
“How is the baby so sick?”
“How did you not know about her health?”
all the support I received from my family members, except for the ones who gave me the
disparaging comments that made me feel like I was already doomed to be a bad mother
“How did you not know what was going on?”
“How is the baby so sick?”
“How did you not know about her health?”
The victim blaming doubted all the sweat and tears that went into my nursing training. They have
no right to blame me for not paying attention or pitying me. It was the system that severely let me down.
I expected city hospitals to provide the best care compared to village hospitals like the one I’ve
worked in. I was uneducated and did not think of keeping track of my baby’s movement or heartbeat
myself. I wish I had noticed all the red flags like Apeksha’s overdue date or the fact that I only had my
prenatal care visit once. If it had continued to happen throughout my pregnancy and into the 7-8 month
time, things would have been different. The nurses told me that Apeksha was eating her poop during my
pregnancy, and it blocked her lungs, decreasing her ability to breathe.
no right to blame me for not paying attention or pitying me. It was the system that severely let me down.
I expected city hospitals to provide the best care compared to village hospitals like the one I’ve
worked in. I was uneducated and did not think of keeping track of my baby’s movement or heartbeat
myself. I wish I had noticed all the red flags like Apeksha’s overdue date or the fact that I only had my
prenatal care visit once. If it had continued to happen throughout my pregnancy and into the 7-8 month
time, things would have been different. The nurses told me that Apeksha was eating her poop during my
pregnancy, and it blocked her lungs, decreasing her ability to breathe.
I blame the lack of prenatal care in Nepal because they could not screen or intervene earlier. Now
Apeksha suffers from chronic hearing loss because the gentamicin side effect destroyed her hearing cells.
I wish I could go back in time and prevent her hearing loss. I would do anything for her to avoid using
that drug or being able to breathe the first time after she was born. Thankfully, I know better after coming
to the U.S., giving birth to my second daughter, and finishing my nursing degree
Apeksha suffers from chronic hearing loss because the gentamicin side effect destroyed her hearing cells.
I wish I could go back in time and prevent her hearing loss. I would do anything for her to avoid using
that drug or being able to breathe the first time after she was born. Thankfully, I know better after coming
to the U.S., giving birth to my second daughter, and finishing my nursing degree
