Lubna
On October 24th, 2001, Bethlehem city was under the Israeli invasion. Tanks were closing the entrance of the village and all the entrances of Bethlehem. There was constant shelling from Gilo settlement on both Bethlehem and Beit Jala cities. It was the beginning of autumn and the land was waits for rain, preparing itself to receive raindrops to live and grew plants, and I was waiting for my newborn to arrive. I was 9 months pregnant.
It was around midday when I first felt labor pain. I knew it was time! But it was too scary outside that I denied it and tried to hide my pain. With the sunset came the unbearable pain that I couldn’t hide anymore. My husband noticed and said “let get to the hospital, immediately!” I was thinking of all the bombing outside. All the entrances of the village were blocked with piles of soil and rocks. How will we even get to the hospital?! I replied “I’m not giving birth today!” I took the decision. I am not giving birth today!
He called both my mother and his to convince me that I have to go to the hospital. My mother called my father, who was working as a school principle in Jerusalem without a permit from the occupation. That’s why he used to stay away from home for a month to avoid being caught. He was trying to coordinate an ambulance to carry me to Jerusalem through road 60, which connected the settlements in Hebron to Jerusalem. Unfortunately, the Jerusalem hospitals refused to send an ambulance as I am a Palestinian citizen with a green identity card (the West Bank ID which needs a permit to get to Jerusalem).
After several attempts with Jerusalem hospitals and Bethlehem hospitals, no ambulance was able to come to the village. The family decided to take a risk and go to a hospital in Bethlehem through Cremisan Valley, through an agricultural road that belonged to Cremisan Monastery. It was a narrow, bumpy road with many holes, full of trees, scary, and dark. It was closed with piles of soil and rocks by the occupation forces. We arrived at these piles, then my husband and his brother began to open a small path so the car goes through and make it to Beit Jala.
They were removing soil and rocks as fast as possible, and the pain was increasing. I wanted to scream out of pain, but I hold it back. They got me out of the car to cross the piles on foot, fearing that the car could overturn on the edge of the road. Meanwhile, my brother-in-law was trying slowly and carefully to cross the piles with the car and he finally manages to get it on the other side! We continued our way to Beit Jala and when we reached the end of the Cremisan road toward Beit Jala, there was shelling on Beit Jala. We stopped in the middle of an empty street and the sound of the shelling and shooting was strong and loud. It felt like it was above our heads! The pain was increasing, the baby was trying to get out, but I hold on and refused to give birth. I truly needed urgent medical assistance, but we were in the middle of nowhere with bombings all around.
My mother remembered that there was a gynecologist called JadAllah Al Najar who lived in the area we were standing in. We went to his house and knocked on the door. We got in and he was very welcoming. He took me in for examination. All I saw were teacups, plates of cake, and a lot of eyes staring at me. Then the doctor invited me in and took me to the salon just across the living room. A transparent glass door separated the two rooms and there was a cold three-seated black couch.
He said “I had nothing but this couch to examine you”. I was boiling inside! I refused, so he brought a curtain and put it on the door so that no one of the family would see me through the glass. He examined me and said “It’s an emergency, you have to give birth right now! We have no time to waste! But all my tools are in the clinic in Bethlehem''. When I heard that, I ran out of his house into the streets and said to myself “I don't want to give birth now.”
The pain was getting worse as I was pulling the baby up my belly frightened and crying! My mother and the doctor followed me saying that he’s trying to coordinate an ambulance to get me to the nearest hospital. He warned me not to try to suck in the baby, or else, both our lives would be in danger.
The doctor tried to call the hospital, but the ambulance could not come because the bombing did not stop. After several attempts, the doctor told me “I will try to call the Bethlehem Arab Society hospital” (An Orthopedic hospital back then). He called the hospital and tried to get me a room or a bed. They agreed and said that they could prepare a room that is originally meant for bone setting. We went to the bone hospital and found a nun and a group of nurses waiting for us. They got me into a small room with a small white orthopedic bed and the nun started preparing the necessary equipment and sterilized towels for both the baby and myself. She tried to calm me down, but my fear was bigger than the joy of having my baby girl.
After several attempts, the baby couldn't get out due to my mental condition. I was consumed by fear. I kept on trying for hours, then they decided to call a midwife to help the doctor. She was very fat as far as I remember, and she pushed all her weight on me until the baby came out with her beautiful red cheeks and thick hair.
When they laid her on my chest, I burst into tears of joy. I was shaking out of fear and pain, but her crying was like a bell to my ears, suddenly I stopped hearing the sounds of bombing, although it was still taking place. All I could hear is my alive baby´s cries.
Because of this difficult childbirth, my body was ripped and the doctor had to stitch me. It was a hospital for bones, so all they could provide is metal wires used for bones. It was very painful!
When this nightmare was over, everyone gathered around me, my husband, my mother, the nun, and the nurses they were all crying and they named her Aroub. Aroub was born under heavy shelling. She was born while a young man was shot dead in the same area and another injured. Only then I understood that giving birth on this land is an act of Sumud/ steadfastness, resilience and resistance.