Chris' Story

Hi there! I know it has been a while since I have posted an entry on this blog - but I have been waiting for this story. You may remember earlier in the outreach I shared with you the story of Chris, a VVF patient who gave birth on the run? Unfortunatley 2 days after we discharged her, she was rushed back to us with fairly significant post op complications. She has been with us on the ward since then, and has only just left on Monday - 2 months later, but thankfully completely healed of her VVF.

While she was readmitted- she took the time to tell us her story - her amazing and shocking story. The ward nurses and I feel honoured to have gotten to know Chris over the last 2 months, and there were many mixed emotions when she left. So without further ado - Chris' story in her own words.


"The rebels had found us and there was no where to hide. I lay by my brothers and a neighbor, shaking, as sweat mingled with my tears slid down my face. The rebels had found my parent’s room and the sound of my parents wailing and begging for their lives came through the walls. Were they stealing the rebel’s attention away from us to give us enough time to run? My brothers jumped through the window leaving our neighbor and I rooted to the spot. We had to know if my parents were going to survive. My neighbor shook me and pulled me through the window with difficulty. You see, I was nine months pregnant at the time.

The last things I heard were the screams of my parents and the gun shots that took their lives. I was only sixteen years old. My brothers had disappeared into the jungle. We couldn’t find them. We knew we had to get to safety fast because we were being pursued by the rebels. They’d heard the window slam on our way out. As if that was not enough, I went into labor while I was running. I knew if I stopped to give birth, the rebels would kill me and my baby. But if I kept running I might also die or loose my baby. I was in a dilemma.

The labor pains gave me no choice. Luckily there was a huge tree that had a cove so we slipped into it and hid from the rebels who were frantically looking for us. Pain shot through my body as the baby begged to be released into this world full of chaos. I begged my neighbor friend to deliver the baby. She fearfully answered saying “I have never delivered a baby before. I can’t do it and won’t do it.” My screams gave her no choice. I lay there and looked into her eyes knowing that I had to trust her. The baby’s head appeared, and just when it did, we heard the rebels getting closer. In her fear, my friend pulled the baby’s head too hard in an effort to deliver the baby quickly. We heard the baby’s neck snap and I knew I had lost my baby. There was no time to lament over my loss, I had to save my life and that was all that mattered right now.

We stayed in the bush for two weeks hiding from the rebels and made our way to the border of [the neighboring nation of] Ivory Coast exhausted and in pain. When we got to the border, I was too sick to stand and had to get to a hospital soon. The authorities however refused to take me on the canoe to the other side. They feared I was too sick and might die on the way. We stayed at the border for another week.

Fortunately the second canoe decided to take us across the river and we got to a hospital. I had no money, no place to sleep, knew no one in this new country and couldn’t speak the language. No one would take me in because I reeked of urine. My bladder had been ripped due to the fast delivery of my baby. I had suffered [a birth injury called] VVF but had no clue at the time. At night, we would wait around a chop bar [restaurant] till they closed and would sleep there till early morning. We hoped there might be scraps of food left for us to eat.

One day I was sitting by the road side wondering whether my brothers had made it out of Liberia. Were they alive? If so, which country had they crossed into? A Ghanaian lady suddenly tapped me on the shoulder and said “You look like some one I know in the Liberian refugee camp in Ghana.” Knowing my aunt who resembled me had made it to a refugee camp in Ghana early on in the war, a little glimmer of hope rose up in me. I told the Ghanaian woman my story and was certain the lady she spoke of was my aunt. This lady took me all the way to Ghana and reunited me with my aunt at the Liberian refugee camp.

Unfortunately, VVF left me isolated from others. I had no friends and stayed home most of the time crying and feeling sorry for myself. One day, a Nigerian lady saw me weeping and decided to take me to the hospital only to be told after the surgery that I had to pay an amount we couldn’t afford. For four months I was like a slave in the hospital, I wasn’t allowed to go out because I owed money. If I paid, they would let me go. Other patients who found ways and means to run without paying did so leaving me trusting that God would provide. My aunt had to sell charcoal for months to get me out of there. The United Nations tried to take me to the United States but the name on my documents had been spelled differently. They thought I was a different person so I was refused a visa. I believed my life had come to an end.

Still leaking, I went to another hospital who told me about Mercy Ships. It took six years to finally get the help I needed. Thank you Mercy Ships, I will never forget the kindness you have shown me, and all the prayers that have kept me alive. God bless you in all that you do. Mercy Ships has not only helped me in my physical need but they have instilled in me the desire to go to back to school and make something of myself. I plan to go to school to become a journalist, go back home to my country Liberia and build a house and find my brothers so I can take care of them. If it is God’s will I will get married and start a new life.

People think I blame my lady friend for the death of my baby. I don’t see her as the one who took my baby’s life but the one who saved my life. God saved me from the shadow of death."