Last week was challenging for me. Very high temperatures and growing a human life have been successful at keeping my energy fairly low, or at least depleting it quickly. And now that I’ve started teaching, by the time I’m home with the boys (our school day ends at 1pm but starts at 7:30am) I feel done. I had little patience with Caleb and Micah and felt like I had nothing left in the tank to engage with them in a meaningful way and any interactions were dealing with behaviour. “No, flopping on the floor in a tantrum won’t get you what you want.” “No, lying down in the pile of sand for a sand bath is not a good idea. Don’t you know we’re trying to conserve water!” “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your request a millisecond after you whined it to me. I will try to do better next time.” You know, that kind of thing. I felt embarrassed when we were out for dinner and they were being rambunctious while were were trying to have some grown up conversation. Really I should have just realized they are four, were up past their bedtime, hadn’t had much time with us and life as they know it has completely changed in the last two months. Sometimes I take for granted how remarkably well they’ve done with the transition and that maybe, just maybe they are still settling into their new life here.

All that to set the stage for Sunday morning. After getting up two hours later than I usually do (my love language is sleeping in!) I said good morning to everyone and opened my computer to check emails. In an ideal world, I would have kept the computer closed, asked my boys what they wanted to do and enjoyed a quiet morning of entering into their world but as I’m sure many of us find, sometimes it feels easier to choose the virtual connection over the one right in front of us. And I was fully aware I was doing it. Anyways, as I was looking at my email, Micah crawled up on the couch beside me and gently whispered in my ear, “Mommy, you’re exquisite.” My heart melted. Really? Did he actually just say that to me? Then he went into the kitchen, and whispered to Joel, “Mommy is exquisite.” (Before you are overly impressed with my son’s vocabulary, “exquisite” is a word he learned on Sesame Street’s word of the day, a brilliant feature of the show in my opinion. Ask him what it means and he’ll tell you it means “beautiful and special”.)

I am generally not a fan of cheesy Christian analogies and am not one to over-spiritualize things but as I reflected on my son’s words throughout the day, I couldn’t help but be reminded that that’s how God thinks of us. We are exquisite. It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve messed up and missed opportunities to love those around us. How he feels about us is not based on our performance. He delights in us, plain and simple. After feeling like I had failed many times over this past week, my son’s words were God’s grace to me and a reminder of how he sees us. You are exquisite!

Photo credits to my good friend Cheryl at Bamboo Life Photography

Julianne and I recently spent a morning at the pre-natal clinic at Macha hospital. Once a month, the hospital holds a clinic for expectant mothers and mothers with young children. One of the benefits of Julianne being pregnant (aside from, you know, the creation of a new human life) is that it is allowing us to experience the care of this hospital that is at the centre of our community here, and without having to get malaria or break an arm. Everyone we have interacted with at the hospital has been absolutely wonderful, and the care has been excellent.

The clinic was an interesting experience. Couples who are expecting a baby are required to attend a session as part of their registration with the hospital. Since the class is normally conducted in Tonga, the local language, we were treated to a private version conducted for us in English by one of the nurses.

He was professional and thorough, taking us through topics such as nutrition for pregnant women, what to expect during the birthing process, and how to monitor your baby’s health and growth after leaving the hospital. He did laugh a little as he took us through some of the material, which I think he was required to cover but which he knew probably would not apply to this couple from Canada. I learned, for instance, that I should give Julianne a break from working in the fields during her pregnancy. I have dutifully complied with this instruction.

One of the standard parts of the registration is for both parents to take an HIV test; the test is not a requirement but is strongly encouraged. The HIV pandemic has hit Zambia hard, with and adult prevalance rate of nearly 22% at its peak. And while education and prevention efforts of the last couple decades have helped bring the rate down, the statistics say that even today nearly one in eight adult Zambians carries the virus. The testing of expectant mothers is particularly important, because the virus can be passed on to infants. There are ways to prevent this, or at least reduce the risk, but only if the mother’s status is known.

Julianne and I were both tested as part of our registration with the hospital. After filling out the consent form (the first form I have completed in my life where I have been asked to indicated how many spouses I have), I had my finger pricked to get a small amount of blood. For Julianne, since her body has a slightly more central role to play than mine in the whole pregnancy thing, a few more tests were required. After these were done, we were told we would have our HIV results in a matter of minutes.

Getting the actual results was an interesting experience. The nurse we had been working with had a certain flair for the dramatic, so he built up the suspense a little. He put the papers face down on the table.

“I have your results here. But first, let’s talk a little. How would you feel if you were negative?”

“Ummm…happy?”

“Good. And how would you feel if you were positive.”

“Wellllll…surprised?”

“Okay.”

Long pause.

“Do you know that at this hospital we have a very good program of medicines for supporting those who are positive?”

“Yes, I did know that.”

“And if you are positive, will you take advantage of that program?”

“Well, yes, I suppose would.”

Now, I am pretty aware of the behaviours that can put you at risk for HIV. And I am pretty aware that the frequency with which I engage in those behaviours puts me in a pretty safe spot in terms of the likelihood of getting HIV. But if this guy kept asking me any more questions, I think I might have started to worry that I might be seeing a “positive” on that page.

At any rate, the suspense was about to end. He flipped the results over, and with a deft cross-handed manoeuvre he put my results down in front of Julianne, and her results down in front of me.

Both negative. Which was not a surprise. What was a surprise was this you-see-hers, she-sees-yours approach to sharing them. It doesn’t strike me as the kind of thing that would happen in our privacy-conscious culture in Canada. But as I thought about it more, it made a lot of sense. In a culture where women do not always have the say and the rights that we take for granted in Canada, this gives a pregnant mother a clear view of her partner’s status. It gives her information she might not get otherwise — information that may help her protect herself and her baby.

I am thankful for Macha hospital. I am thankful for the role it plays in the community here. And I am thankful that, while we are getting ready for this new little life to join our family, we get to experience first hand what a wonderful place it really is.

One of the things I have been looking forward to about living on campus is being part of life with the boarding kids. The building we live in is also shared with the boys and girls dorms so they truly are our neighbours. Caleb and Micah have gotten more comfortable greeting them as they pass by our veranda several times a day. We had been talking about the idea of eating supper with the boarding kids one night a week as they will become our extended family here. So after two weeks of settling into life on campus, tonight was night number one. I was a bit hesitant as they eat nshima every night, which is the staple food in Zambia. It is made with maize flour (cornmeal) and has the consistency of stiff mash potatoes. It is often served with a side or two, referred to as the relish . Tonight’s was beef and cabbage. Joel and I ate it often in Zimbabwe (called ‘sadza’ there) and enjoyed it. We tried to prepare the boys ahead of time as we attempt to do with every new experience here, but to be honest I wasn’t expecting them to like it. But to our surprise they both ate it up and even went back for seconds. They are on their way to becoming true Zambians and I’m thankful that the staple meal isn’t a barrier to them getting to know the community around them. Not every day is easy, but it is truly amazing to see how well they are adapting and embracing their new life.

I had it all planned out. In the remaining months of living in Zimbabwe in 2007, we would start trying for our first child. I would give birth in the spring of 2008 and have three kids, each two years apart. Those who know our family at all, know that didn’t happen and those who know me really well, know that what followed were some difficult years for us, but in June of 2010 we were thrilled to welcome Caleb and Micah into our little family.

I had always assumed we would have more kids but we also began dreaming with Jamie and Arja about the idea of moving to Zambia together. Through a series of events and what we believe was God’s direction, in late 2012 we eventually gave up the idea of having a third child. Even though I’ve had peace and felt like it was the right decision for us, I’ve been grieving the idea of not having the bigger family I had always imagined. While I celebrated with friends who shared the news of their pregnancies or held their tiny newborns, the pain didn’t go away. Watching my friends with siblings of different ages, I wondered what that would be like. I knew that doing the right thing for our family didn’t mean that it would be easy. When the boys were born I bought personalized Christmas stockings for our family with two additional blank ones for any future members. Each year pulling them out of the box awakened the ache inside of me, this year being no exception.

Only a few days later in the midst of the craziness of preparing to move to the other side of the world, I started to feel off and way more tired than usual. I had some symptoms similar to my previous pregnancy but knew it was virtually impossible. I decided to buy a test so I could enjoy my occasional glass of wine over the Christmas holidays in peace. Even the night before I tested Joel and I agreed that the chances were extremely low. Then it happened. That extra line came up quite quickly as we got the shock of our lives. I am pregnant!

This baby truly is a miracle and a gift from God. We are amazed and grateful that I have a little life growing inside of me. We have confirmed there is only one in there this time and have heard the heart beating strong. A few weeks ago we had an ultrasound at Macha and saw our little one moving around, growing right on track. Time is flying and this past weekend already marked the halfway point. The timing is all a bit overwhelming but we are excited to raise our baby, at least in the early years, in a beautiful community in rural Zambia. The hardest part of motherhood with the boys was not sleep deprivation, the long hours feeding, or juggling two babies at once, but the isolation of our Western culture. There will be new challenges where we are, but I’m guessing that being alone won’t be one of them. We are already part of a wonderful team with the Sanfilippo family and our community is starting to grow around us. Living on a school campus certainly won’t hurt either. We have affectionally named our little one “Zambino” for now and can’t wait to welcome them into our family in July. We will monitor my pregnancy and decide where to give birth in the coming months.

We knew moving to Zambia would mix up our lives. Never in a million years would I have guessed that a few weeks before we left, we would discover this little and not-so-little development. In many ways it still doesn’t feel real but the growing bump and the recently-felt kicks are certainly helping it sink in. Life is a crazy and beautiful story with unexpected twists and turns and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We look forward to keeping  you updated on our little Zambino who has already had quite the adventure in their short 20 weeks.