“Come on, cry- just cry. Cry a lot,” pleaded the doctor. A minute passed and the baby still refused to give into the doctors instructions. In the other room, under a heater, nurses took over the task of drawing a cry out of the baby. One nurse rubbed the back of the baby, another fit a mask over his tiny nose and mouth- forcing his chest to inflate every time she squeezed the attached bag.

Every once in a while there would be a pause so that a third nurse could suck mucus and fluid out of the nose and mouth. Two minutes, some gasps, then nothing, three minutes, finally we heard it: a small wail. There was a look of triumph- the baby was still hanging on for the time being. Nasal prongs of oxygen were fit into his nostrils. Emboldened with this extra air, the baby started crying- a good proper cry.

I walked back into the operating theater and observed as the mother was stitched back up from the C-section, comforted by the cries that were still audible coming from next door.

Ten minutes later the command came again, this time from a new set of nurses, “Come on, cry.” The procedure was repeated with a bag and mask forcing the little chest to rise and fall. A few minutes later the cry came, small at first then stronger and more frequent, joining in chorus with the first baby. Each cry a reminder of the lives doctors and nurses are able to save.

My day in the Ob/Gyn surgical suite was fascinating. I witnessed skilled surgeons deftly perform procedures ranging from C-sections to abscess draining to postpartum hemorrhage repair. While I enjoyed being able to observe each of the procedures, the most interesting part was having the chance to talk with the interns and doctors in the brief minutes between surgeries. They validated my observations of various challenges they have to deal with in the wards and also offered additional insights into the experience of being a doctor in Malawi. (Elaboration in Part 2)