5 + 1 = 6

 Well, if you haven’t already heard, we are expecting our fourth child, another blessing, another arrow for our quiver.

To answer your questions, “October 15, Kenya, and no.”

Just kidding. 

I’m due October 15th.

I will deliver in Kenya.

No, we are not going to find out what it is.

I have been feeling pretty rough, but I’m trying to get some exercise, which I never did with any of the other three.  My brain is racing with all the things that will be different about raising a baby in Africa versus suburban America.  I'm only 3 months along, so I still have some time to think about things.

I flew to Kampala a couple of weeks ago to have some blood work done because I had been feeling unusually bad (migraines causing nausea, in addition to my already daily nausea).  I am now on an altered diet, and my headaches have decreased in number.

Doug drove the kids down to see me while I was in Kampala and we decided to tell them there, because they were pretty concerned about my health.

We took them out to eat and showed them this math problem:

They got the answer but were having trouble with the meaning, so we gave them the gifts we had bought them:  baby bottles and pacifiers.   Kylie's eyes lit up.

All three of them are SO excited.  Kylie cried.  I cried with her.  Karis was already imagining playing “momma” and talking about what she would teach it,  and Caleb said about the balloon in his hand, “I can keep this until the baby’s born and then tie it on his foot and he’ll be able to move his foot up and down and play with it.”

There personalities are so distinct!

I don’t want to make this a blog where I talk only about my pregnancy, but I just wanted you to know, because it will come up from time to time.  And then #4 will probably get a fair share of press, too.  But what it means for you now and in the future, is that I will be going to bed earlier at night.  THAT means that the late hours I usually spend answering emails and writing blogs will be cut in half, so you might have to wait longer for a response or a blog (if you get one at all).  You know how it is….zzzzzzzzz.

The Unknown Visitor

Monday, I gave Patrick, our watchman, some candy canes for his kids. A few days later, he asked me about the "sticks" I had given him.

He said, "How do you eat those sticks?"

I explained about peeling off the plastic and then sucking or chewing on them. My guess is the plastic was the thing throwing them off. I'll bet they thought I gave them some dud candy.


I tell that story to set you up for this one...

You need to remember how different our cultures and experiences are.

Here we go...


Tonight as I greeted Patrick, I asked him about his day. He told me he had driven his grandfather deep into Congo to visit relatives.

That may sound pretty simple to you, but let me tell you what Patrick drives...a bicycle.

I KNOW he must have been worn out.

He carried his grandfather SEVERAL kilometers into Congo, returned home, and then came straight to my house several kilometers...on his bike.

Then, he proceeded to tell me that his home place had a visitor last night.

Knowing he was watching my place last night and not his, I said, "Was it someone bad? Is everyone okay?"

He said, "Yes, this is what we say when a baby has come."

Of course I was ecstatic! I knew his wife was expecting, but I didn't know it was to be so soon. Besides, when I had asked him at an earlier time where his wife would deliver, he told me about a local hospital that is about 5 kilometers or more from his house.

I said, "Will you drive her?"

Of course, I meant, on his bicycle.

Picture this with me, all you ladies that have gone through labor pains. Would you consider, even for a second, taking a ride to the hospital on the back of a bike across pitted dirt roads? I think not!

But his response surprised me in more ways than one. He said, "I will take her part of the way on my bicycle. But the hospital gets mad if you show up riding on something. They want you to walk the baby out, so I will have to let her walk the last bit."

I don't know what my face looked like at that moment, but the words going on in my mind could not and should not make it out of my mouth.

Make a mental note, Kathryn: Do not deliver here in Arua, if by chance you get pregnant.

OK. On with my story.

I was ecstatic, remember?

Then I remembered that Patrick was at my house and not at home, so I asked who had driven her to the hospital.

He said, "She just had it at home."

OK, I didn't know what to say to that, because I'm guessing it was my family's fault that she didn't get to go to the hospital.

New topic.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? Did you see it?"

"No. Maybe I will ask her mother tomorrow what the mother delivered."

MAYBE...ASK TOMORROW!!? The MOTHER!!?

Of course, I wanted to scream, "It's YOUR child, and your WIFE," but I try to be a good missionary sometimes and realize that this is another culture...not mine. I am a guest here...a foreigner.

So I calmly said, "Let me know when you find out so we can buy a gift."

Of course, Doug had a better idea when we talked later. Instead of buying a gender-specific gift, we should take them beans, cassava flour, sugar, etc. Sounds good to me.

You go find out what kind of child your wife had, and I'll go to the market and get some food.

No, I did not say that. Give me some credit.

I praised God for a healthy child, and I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving with him. Much better, huh?

I'll let you know what they name him/her. Of course, that won't happen until after the umbilical cord falls off.

Oh, I have a lot to learn about our cultures differences!