More Journal

Feb 16^th

This morning we woke up at 5:30am and were on the road early.  We were headed out to the village where Mukisa was being kept by his great aunt.  We were nervous about the day to say the least, big day.  We spent several hours at the village (very near Magale, Uganda for those of you who would like to google it) talking with his extended family and getting to know everyone better. 

Around noon we loaded up into the taxi van (remember the one we saw on the way back from visiting him "With God it is a Yes!" – more on this in a later blog post) and were back in Mbale by 1:30.  We sat around in the attorney's office as they hurriedly made preparations for us all to go to court.  Finally the Magistrate was ready to see us so we walked over to the lower courthouse.  And after a bit more waiting we went in front of the Magistrate.  Everything went smoothly and the custody order was granted.  Everyone was pleased.

And now we three are back in our hotel room.  We decided to spend one more night here before heading off to the hospital's guest quarters as we've had enough change for today.  We've loved spending time with him and feel so blessed to be here with him. 

Feb 17^th

Wow!   This is the most surreal deal.  We are so happy and in love- I can’t believe we are with him at last.  We are here in Uganda with our first child.  Speechless, really. 

I know that he’s not technically “ours” since we haven’t yet seen the Mbale judge in high court to plea for “legal guardianship” … but he’s definitely ours in our hearts and we’re hopeful.

Our first night together went great.  I (Tara) didn’t sleep much, but not because of Mukisa.  I basically couldn’t keep my eyes off of him (despite the fact that I held him for almost 10 hours straight yesterday).  I just can’t get enough of him.  

It’s been fun showing Mukisa off to everyone at the hotel, including guests and staff.   We’ve become friends with a lot of the waiters and waitresses at the hotel, but none of them had ever asked why we were visiting.  So, when we showed up to the hotel yesterday evening with a three week old African baby they were shocked.  Without fail, they all asked “Where did you find this baby?” - “Where is the mom?”-  and “How are you going to feed him?”  My waitress friends were really perplexed how I was going to feed this poor baby. 

Most people here can’t afford formula, and it’s certainly not available in most villages.  In a case like Mukisa’s, where his mom died in childbirth, finding a wet nurse is usually the only solution.  Unfortunately there wasn’t a wet nurse in Mukisa’s area when he was born.  Only by the grace of God, did the Mercy Trips medical team show up to Mukisa’s village to do a clinic on Friday, two days after Mukisa was born and the same day his mother was buried.  The team was able to get him formula, and this was the start of how we heard about this remarkable baby boy.

Feb 18^th

We officially moved into the hospital’s guest house last night.  It comes with some challenges, but we’re doing great.  I’m especially grateful today for good health from all three of us.    The hospital is in a small village called Kanginima, it is next to (4km from) a slightly larger village known as Kokoro... if you try hard you might be able to find Kokoro on a map.

While his given African name will always be Mukisa Moses (which was given to him by the local pastor in his area), we’ve decided to make his American name to be “Zane Mukisa Kohlbacher”. 

Zane was born 6.6 pounds according to his birth certificate (3kg).  I’m not certain how much he weighs today, but I’m guessing he’s 6 or 7 pounds- hard to say.  He’s eating great, so we’re hopefully going to slowly put on some pounds. 

He got his first, much needed, bath this morning.  For the most part, I think he liked it.  We actually did two baths in a row after I saw how dirty the water was in the first wash.   After bath time he took a long power nap in his travel bassinet. 

A few things about our new home.   You should see the stars, looking up at night from the village is simply amazing.  Today a group from Belgium arrived so there are occasionally a few other non-africans ("Muzungus") around. The doctor has been a wonderful host and the girl he arranged to help us out (Jessica) is very nice.  So for at least the next few days we'll all just be eating/sleeping/changing diapers and bonding... Looking forward to it! 

Feb 20^th

Life in the Village

Our new temporary home is at Kanginima Hospital.  It is located about an hour drive from Mbale.  It’s considered the “village” because it’s outside the city.  You might call it the “bush”.   

We’re not staying at the hospital because any of us are sick.  Dr. Patrick Mutano, who has helped us through this process, has graciously let us share a house with him.  It’s actually more of a duplex where it’s two houses that share a wall and a back patio. 

We have our own front porch where we often sit on our new fancy blue plastic chairs.  Our front door (its teal!) opens up to a living room with two sofas, chairs, and a table to eat and iron on.  (No, I haven’t ironed yet, but don’t hold your breath.)  Our living room has two rooms off of it- one is our bedroom and the other is a storage room.  Our bedroom has a queen mattress and a table which serves as a bottle making station and a changing table.  The only other thing in the room is a floor fan and some nails in the wall (we added a side table since this journal was written).  I have it on my to do list to pick up some tape in town so I can pin up the cards, letters, verses, people have sent us on the wall.

 "Before" picture of the bedroom 

 "After" picture of the bedroom

The living room opens up in the back to a large patio, where various activities go on such as washing and hang drying our clothes (which I haven’t done yet, thanks to our wonderful helper, Jessica).  There is also a kitchen closet (I say closet because it’s small!).  I haven’t had to do anything in the kitchen yet thanks to the chef from Kampala that fixes three meals a day.  The sink is on the patio (no mirror, mind you), and then the shower and toilet closet are off of the patio. 

"Before" picture of the living room

"After" picture of the living room

We have electricity which is fabulous and super rare in the villages.  We also have a flushing toilet and a heater on our shower- again, fabulous and super rare.  (We should be scared of the shower head that heats the water in the shower head itself, but we’re risking it. I’m almost certain we are the only place in a good distance that has those things.   So, when the electricity goes out, which is does often- I’d say at least once a day for a few hours we get a glimpse of “real” village life.

So, as you can see- we’re absolutely spoiled here.  Jessica, our helper, makes things extra manageable.  She helps me clean bottles, prepare Zane’s bath water, washes the floors, cleans our clothes, takes out the trash, and even babysits while Zane is sleeping so we can go across the road to the offices where there is Internet.   

Jessica with Peter, the chef, in the tiny kitchen

All of this spoiledness leaves lots of bonding time with Zane.  I’m so, so grateful for the quality time without distractions that I get to have with him.  I have little responsibility the last two days in the village other than being a mom- and I’m eating it up.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am to be here… and to be here with Zane.      

Today our probation officer came out for her first home visit. It went well and she continues to be supportive of our adoption.  Tomorrow Isaac plans to meet with our attorney and review the first draft of our guardianship request.

Feb 21^st

Mouse in the House

There is a mouse in the house and we’re pissed.  It started yesterday when I discovered “droppings” on top of our suitcases which are in the storage room next to our bedroom.  One of the suitcases was left open and “something” had torn into my facial wipes (yummy!).  Thankfully, we had the suitcase with the snacks closed.  

The day before yesterday I was in a tizzy about the red ants that were on everything that formula had splashed.  Now, the ants are the least of our concern!

Finding this sucker was going to be difficult because half of the room is just stacks of hospital storage items.  So, whatever it was, it was going to be hard to catch.  Before going to bed we chalked it up to be a lizard, because they’re everywhere here…and because I would rather it be a lizard than a mouse.  Well, last night before bed I was feeding Zane in the living room and I saw a glimpse of a mouse/rat/rodent trying to escape the storage room.  

(Some of you may recall that I had a traumatic experience with a half dead mouse touching my toes in the garage some time ago.  I’m terrified of mice/rats to say the least.) 

Well, come to find out this little bugger isn’t just any old mouse.  It’s a vicious, brave, crazy African rat who somehow can climb/jump on top of tables with metal legs, and can sneak in our bedroom without us noticing (despite the fact that one or both of us were up every two hours feeding the little one). 

At the 5:00am feeding, I noticed that the nipple on the bottle was totally destroyed- it had been eaten (this gives me the creeps just thinking about it).   I then recalled a miracle feed around the 1:00am feeding where we thought Zane had taken down 3 ounces in 9 minutes.  I checked, and come to find out there was another bottle where the nipple was the same.  That bottle must have just leaked all over him- it’s hard to tell in the dark I guess. 

Long story short, we discovered this rodent had somehow gotten on both the table in the living room where we store dirty bottles AND in our bedroom on our changing table where we store formula and the clean bottles.  He had even chewed a little of the formula lid (this is expensive organic formula, mind you), and had opened it just enough to throw up into the formula powder.  This is when I became really angry! 

It’s one thing to mess with my facial wipes and it’s another thing to mess with my baby’s things!  We haven’t gone back to sleep yet.  I’ve spent the morning disinfecting things and adding rodent poison to our shopping list today. 

I’m no longer terrified at the mouse… I’m pissed!  And if I see it, I’m going after it. 


Feb 21st

Feb 22^nd

Mouse in the House, Part 2

Before going to bed last night we watched a TV show on our laptop through ITunes in the living room to help by pass time since the electricity was out again.  I heard something in the bedroom and low and behold that mouse made its way into our bedroom and was on the changing table!  It’s a sneaky little thing.  Thankfully we caught him before he could do any damage.  When he saw us, he scrambled back into the storage room and we shut the door. 

All we could find at the store yesterday was a sticky mouse glue trap.  Last we checked the room, Isaac said the mouse pad looked like it had been moved… meaning he got stuck but got away.  This morning Isaac moved everything out of the storage room and located the mouse (rat) in the back corner.  He shut the door and chased the mouse around until its tail got stuck in the glue pad, and then he mercifully smashed its head with a large stick.  Dead Mouse.

PS.  On a different note, here are some pictures of the day

Resting on dad

Resting on mom

Feb 23^rd

Isaac is leaving for the airport in a few hours, so I'm quickly getting the run down on everything.  He takes such great care of Zane and I, and so I'm now about to enter a whole new level of responsibility.  It's a little bit overwhelming, but I can do it.  Isaac is such a rock star dad (but I already knew he would be).  He's been taking amazing care of Zane and I here (as I'm sure you already could guess).  Both times we've been in Africa, he blows me away with how comfortable he is with everything- he's just a "natural".  He truly loves the people here, so he just connects well with everyone and he embraces a lot of the differences between our cultures. 

Feb 24^th

Yesterday officially marked 1 week of fostering and being with Zane Mukisa Kohlbacher.  It’s been such an unforgettable special time for us!  The latest with the timeline… Now don’t take this too literally because anything can change, but right now our attorney and the probation officer/social worker are thinking we can maybe cut what is supposed to be a 3 month foster time to 2 months.  So, we’re hopeful that sometime around April 16th we will go to the High Court in hopes we’ll be granted full guardianship from the Judge, so that we can then proceed to the US Embassy in Kampala to work on getting Zane’s Visa to the States. 

I currently have a flight booked for coming home on April 22nd, but this is such a shot in the dark.  We have no idea when this will be.  Isaac will fly back when our attorney schedules the guardianship hearing with the High Court; we aren’t sure when that will be. We do know that MY Uganda Visa expires after 3 months on May 9th, so (hopefully) I’ll be home before then!

Here is a letter I wrote Isaac last night.  Thought some of you might be curious what yesterday evening looked like.  We had a “First” (been having lots of those recently)- Zane’s First Melt Down.

Isaac,

Our precious Zane had his first melt down on the first night you were away.  Sad you missed it. 

Missy timely called (such perfect God-timing) towards the end of the fit, and it gave me such relief.  I knew I had done everything I could for him- he was just what they call “overtired” according to the books.  I had seen this a time or two with Miss Sophia, so I knew everything would be okay. 

You should have seen me.  I was staying pretty calm, but just picture it- While he is whaling on the top of his lungs (which just KILLS me ) I was trying to find the chart in the “Baby Whisperer” book to confirm this was being “overtired”- and to see what the heck I was supposed to about it besides ride it out!

Well, before I knew it he just totally conked out as I was re-swaddling him for the fourth time.  Not sure what magic touch that fourth swaddle had, but I’m sure he had just burned up all the calories he had screaming. 

The stress of everyone in the house (and everyone at the hospital next door) hearing this added a little additional pressure, but, again, according to the books they say “A crying baby does NOT equal a bad parent.”

Night love,

~Tara

Thankfully after the melt down we had a wonderful night.  And praise God we had electricity all night (this is rare) because we love and appreciate the fan in our room!

Feb 25^th

Today Zane is 1 month old!  (I still can't believe we've been entrusted with an infant from Africa- never heard of such a thing... but it's so wonderful in so many ways.) 

Kiersten, one of Isaac’s cousins, sent us a page on the name “Zane”.  We’ve liked that name forever, but I don’t know that we ever knew the meaning of the name.  It is Hebrew in origin (which I love because Isaac is, too) and it means “God is gracious”.  Geez!  Yes, He certainly has been, and IS, gracious to us.  We do not deserve His love, but still he loves us.  He loved Zane, an orphaned boy, and us, who were longing to be parents, enough to bring us together in such a clear way from half way around the world.  I’d call that LOVE that is beyond gracious!  We are so undeserving, but still He loves us… and shows us immeasurably more than we could ever ask or imagine(Ephesians 3:20). 

On a different note, lots of interesting and sad things happen around the hospital as you might imagine.  I think I’m sort of kept in the dark most of the time about what’s going on, but this morning it was hard to miss.  I woke up to a large crowd gathered in front of the hospital.   I was told that last night someone dropped off a woman on the hospital steps, which is maybe 50 yards from my door, and she died there overnight (at least I think that’s what the guy who dropped her off is claiming- she may have already been dead).   I was up most of the night and I remember hearing the gates opening and a car pulling in. 

This lady was from a neighboring village, and word quickly got out, and so about a hundred or more people have been gathering around the hospital this morning.  The police finally showed up, but the people were angry with the police because they supposedly interviewed the guy in the neighboring village who dropped off the body, but didn’t arrest him.  Anyway, things are back to normal now.  Sad, though. 

And not to be totally depressing, but just the other day a mom was hysterically crying and shouting (in Lugandan) about 20 yards from my window on the road.  I later found out that she was bringing her baby to the hospital because he was sick, but he died right before she got to the gates of the hospital.  Really sad. 

Those things that have happened right in front of my eyes have saddened my heart but have also given me such great perspective.

To end on a positive note… It’s funny the things that I thought would be most challenging in the village have actually become quite the opposite.    One of those things is the food.   My mom and dad were worried about me being emaciated because I lost a little weight before coming (due to nerves); however,  Dr. Patrick set us up with a chef to feed me/us three meals a day…. and it is fabulous food with great presentation!  I’m so grateful for Peter, the chef, and I tell him that often.  It’s definitely better food than we eat at home, and if he keeps fixing me fried tortillas for breakfast we won’t have to worry about me withering away. 

Feb 26^th

I’m reading the book “Kisses from Katie”, which is the perfect book to read while in Uganda.  (Check out her blog @ www.kissesforkatie.blogspot.com.)  Right after writing about the meaning of Zane yesterday I read this in the book:

“I was blessed.  It wasn’t because of anything I did; it was because I serve an unbelievably gracious God who will honor a willing and obedient heart…”. 

Did you catch that?  Gracious God, which is the meaning of Zane.  I read that and thought- that is exactly what I believe and have found to be true.   I am blessed.  The circumstances that have lead to Zane didn’t unfold because of anything I did- only because God is gracious.

Things are going well here in Kanginima.  Zane is slowly, but surely, growing.  In the last 24 hours I’ve been working on trying to feed him closer to 3 oz every 3 hours, rather than 2 oz every 2 hours.         

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this or not, but my mom is coming to stay with us!!!  YAY!  The plans are still in the works, but we’re thinking she’ll come mid March and leave mid April.  I’m super pumped and grateful she is coming! 

Feb 28th

Zane and I did so much better last night in comparison to the night before!  Praise God!

I’ve self diagnosed that Zane has bad acid reflux.   I wouldn’t say we’re thriving, but we’re coping. 

I find myself wishing I had more resources to help with Zane, and in truth, I have WAY more than anyone here.  And, the truth is, we have enough.  It’s just easy for me to compare how I would handle things under normal circumstances.  For example, I would love to switch formulas to help with his reflux but I only have what I have.  And what I have is better than what I can buy here.  It’s hard knowing something could be better and not giving that to your son (or really to anyone). 

Reality check, Tara!  That’s life for majority of the world (but also thinking about Uganda specifically).  And in reality, Zane is loved not only by me, but perfectly and abundantly from His heavenly Father.  If he doesn’t get the chlorine free diapers, or the organic bath soap, or the reflux medicine (I’ll spare you the incredibly long list…) he will still be cared for and loved. 

And besides that, this is temporary- It just feels like eternity.  

Another thing that has been challenging is finding what works for me and being content with it.  My insecurity has often gotten the best of me.  As you can imagine, Africans do things so differently than Americans.  I already stand out like I’m green, and then you add an African baby in my hands and I’m all of sudden the strangest thing they’ve ever seen. 

Living in the village I’d say very few people speak great English.  Well, this means they stare and talk about you, and you have no idea what they are saying about you.  It drives me crazy.  I can’t tell if they are being judgmental, rude, kind, complimentary … no idea!  And my helper, Jessica, isn’t great at communicating with me what people are saying. (I’m finding out she doesn’t speak fantastic English.  She smiles a lot, so you think she understands you, but come to find out not so much.  I wouldn’t say we have had many “conversations”.)  

I’m trying to adapt to some of the ways they do “baby raising” here, but I find it challenging; however, when I do things my way I can also start to feel insecure because I feel like I might be judged, looked down up, or like I’m drawing even more attention to myself (which I hate). 

Here are just a few of the differences, and like my mom and dad like to say (after living overseas for years), “it’s not wrong, it’s just different” (or something like that):

-You will not find a mom carrying her infant outside without the baby totally wrapped up head to toe with no sign of the child under an itchy wool blanket.   I don’t think they’ve heard of SIDS, and it’s HOT here, so I have a hard time doing it the same exact way. 

-I’d say pretty much no one, except for Dr. Patrick who lived in the States for a time, has seen a pacifier and so they laugh at it.  I give it to Zane anyway. 

-Because formula is extremely rare, particularly in the village, I’m pretty sure people think I’m just feeding Zane cow’s milk.  (And, I know they sometimes do this at the orphanage.  I think it’s terribly bad for infants, but I guess they do what they have to do.)

-Women do everything by themselves.  There is little or no help with the child from the dad.  This morning when I asked my friend, Fred, to help me hold Zane in the bucket so I could wash him he thought that was strange.  He has three kids and I think that was the first time he ever saw a baby being washed. 

-Africans around here don’t read baby books (at least that I know of).  I don’t think they’re too worried about a schedule, overstimulation, burping, colic, gripe water, etc.  It’s just simpler, and it’s more of just providing the basics.

-I’ve never seen a mom get worked-up over a crying baby.  I admire this so much.  I know part of our problem in the evenings is I get worked-up in a tizzy and Zane can sense my frustration, which just then makes things worse.  They just bring their babies wherever (and whenever) and they cope with it. 

-There is no Purell.  I can’t ask everyone to “Purell” before they hold my baby.  In fact, soap and water are not often used throughout the day.  A lot of people in the village don’t even have clean water.  

On a different (and last) note, when I got here it was considered dry (aka HOT) season.  Well, March is apparently the start to wet season.  It has POURED rain (usually for a short time) the last few days.  I guess it came a little early. 

March 1st

Wednesday night was terrible.  It was one of those nights I thought would never end.  Zane and I were both in a wretched mood to say the least and we hardly slept.  Lots of crying ensued.  This lasted from about sunset around 7pm to sunrise around 7am.  To top off my frustration, the electricity went out right at sunset and didn’t come back on for 16 more hours (that wasn’t a type-o). 

However, on the other side was a beautiful day together.  He was an angel and we were able to take a few naps together.

Milk mouth "before" bath

Clean boy "after" bath

March 2nd

Part 1

Last night was one of the better nights.  I actually felt decently rested and he didn’t have one screaming episode.  Miracle.  Thank you, Jesus.  

Now that we are settled here, and a lot of the stresses are gone, my appetite is finally back.  From the moment we heard about Moses Mukisa on Saturday, January 28th I have had absolutely no appetite.  Of course I’ve been eating, but I’ve had to force the bites into my mouth; however, recently I’ve taken a turn and I’ve been looking forward to every meal.   I’m now literally watching the clock until the next meal.  A lot of this is due to Chef Peter, but I’m even whipping out the snacks that I brought (which I hadn’t touched since I got here, but thanks to Mr. Rat there are now fewer options.) 

The days are getting fairly predictable.  My meal schedule is:  breakfast at 7:30, lunch at 1:00, and then dinner at 7:00.  Zane’s meal schedule is:  around 2 ounces of formula every two hours (from the start of one bottle to another).  After his bottle I try and hold him upright for about 20 minutes (to avoid gas and reflux) and then he usually sleeps until the next feeding.  

As you can probably guess with just looking at our feeding schedule, I hang out at the house most of the day besides an occasional walk around the property and a walk (or two) across the road to the office where there is Internet.  Somewhere in between I fit in a bath for Zane and a shower for me (I wait until there is electricity so I can have warm water.  Zane’s bath is well water mixed with hot water from the kettle).  During his naps, I usually take a nap, read a book, or organize things (aka sorting through the over-scaled zip lock bags with our stuff in the two duffle bags where we have everything we brought).

I thought I would do some more exploring around the village, or at least walk further than just around house, but the stares, comments, and/or attention wear me out, so I stay close to home.  I think a lot of that has to do with me projecting negative things people say or think since I have gotten several comments about I’m dressing Zane too hot or too cold. 

As I was leaving the office the other day after sending you the email about the cultural differences I ran into my friend, Fred.  Zane was in my sling which was making me so hot my back was dripping sweat.  He was covered by three layers of the sling fabric and the only skin exposed to the air was his face.  (Keep in mind, too, this baby has a full head of hair.)  And Fred looked at me dead in the eyes and seriously said, “I’m worried for Zane.  When it is cold he needs to wear a hat.  His head needs to not be exposed.  This is why he cries.”  (He wasn’t crying, but the other day I told him that Zane sometimes was fussy at night.) 

I just stared at him perplexed.  Then I said, “Oh!  Do you think it’s cold out right now?”  It had rained a little bit earlier that day, and after a rain many people think it’s cold when it’s 80 degrees.  I think it was the same day that I also saw a man in a large over-scaled down ski coat. 

Then, I went inside and came back out to just hand Fred some money for food.  I had taken Zane out of sling and Fred was so distressed.  He couldn’t believe that I didn’t have socks on him.  So, he gave me another lecture on how babies get cranky when they are cold, but they can’t be too hot, etc.  Fred has a heart of gold, so this was easy to just laugh off.

Another thing that I didn’t foresee as a problem, but that has been somewhat challenging, is loneliness.   Katie, from the book “Kisses with Katie”, said it perfectly for me:

“If I had to summarize in one word my first weeks and months in Uganda, it would be contradiction.  The physical environment of Uganda is one huge paradox; amazing, breathtaking beauty juxtaposed against immense poverty and desolation.  My life- especially my emotions -hung in the balance between absolutely loving my new life in Uganda and battling severe loneliness.  Not a single person around me understood anything about my life, my culture, or my background.  Their frame of reference was so different from mine that even the most detailed explanation hardly helped them understand or relate.  Most of the people around me didn’t speak my language, nor did I speak theirs.  This communication vacuum left me feeling isolated…”

I really have nothing to complain about.  It’s only been a week by myself and my mom is coming next week, but I can see exactly what she is talking about.  I rarely get asked about myself; however, yesterday when I went to meet Jessica’s grandmother and aunt in the village, I found that when someone finally did ask me a question about myself it was so awkward and non-relatable. 

The aunt asked me the dreaded question twice:  What kind of work do you do?  What kind of work does your husband do?   Decorating houses for rich people and trading stock options for rich people gets you a bunch of blank stares, and I truthfully I find it embarrassing as I’m sitting in their mud hut with no electricity or running water.

Part 2

Jessica asked Zane and I to go with her to the school football (soccer) game across the street.  I really wanted to just stay in my comfort zone at home, but I didn’t have a real excuse not to go.  I needed the adventure.  When we arrived my anxiety level sky rocketed - I was literally shaking.   All Jessica could do was laugh (she is good at doing that ALL day).  I told her it made me uncomfortable when so many people stared and talked about us, and she just laughed.  I said, “Do you understand what I’m saying to you!?” She laughed, and then said something about they think the baby is Muzungu (white person) and they have never seen one.  I said, “Well, he’s NOT!”  That’s pretty much how it went.  Seriously 200 eyes were on us.  Then, it was bottle time which just brings more attention.  Ugh!

By the way, they play this football (soccer game) with no shoes which just blows my mind, but if you’ve been to Africa you already know that.

Unfortunately, my side-kick, Jessica, doesn’t understand me at allwhich doesn’t make this any better.  For example, when leaving she wanted to go through the crowd when there was a quiet way to escape!   I quickly diverted that plan.  Problem is, I think she actually likes the attention that it brings her while I hate it.

I’ve been in Africa before and I’ve never had this anxiety.  I think it doesn’t help that I’m seriously the ONLY white person and also that I have a baby that I’m really protective of.   All I know is the simple things are stretching me.  It shouldn’t be that hard to go to a school football game.    

Part 3

Clearly God wasn’t done stretching me today.  As soon as I sent yesterday’s email update Jessica came up to the office like usual to get me when Zane awakes from his nap. This always happens way too quickly and he is usually asleep again by the time she reaches me. I often leave the office wishing I had more Internet time and wishing she had a little more patience.

As soon as we arrive home she goes into this story about how her aunt who I met yesterday wants to get Zane a thick wool blanket and some warmer pants and longsleeves for cold season…and something about how he will cry less.

AHHHH!

So, right then and there I tried to have a nice, honest heart-to-heart with her while holding back tears.  I don’t know that she understands any better after talking to her, but I did what I could to explain. She basically said to “not worry”.  That people said he looked like I was taking good care of him. Supposedly, most of the stares/comments/looks are just people confused about whose baby it is. I guess to make things more complicated he is a lighter brown shade than most people in this area. I’m getting some mixed messages about his skin color and hair, but some people say his hair is also unique (more like Muzungu hair), but I think it’s just baby hair that will eventually turn thicker and coarser over time.  I just don’t get it. Most kids here don’t wear shoes. A lot of toddlers don’t wear pants or underwear…,  And the list goes on. Kids have scabies, ring worm, jiggers, malaria, etc. Many are dying every day of starvation, malaria, AIDS, dehydration, etc.

Seriously, people?! Let’s move off of my child.

You see, they don’t care that he has a large duffle bag of every baby medicine they sell over the counter in the US. Or that he has chlorine free diapers and wipes with three varieties of diaper creams. Or that I feed him every time he’s hungry with a special kind of sensitive formula that cost $50 a can. Or that he has a whole blog about him and a thousand pictures. Or that I’ve read two books about infant care in the last two weeks. I embarrassingly have more stuff for him than most families own in their entire household. And don’t fret, I brought clothes for various temperatures and I’ll use them when I feel like it’s appropriate. It’s sort of ironic that I get paid in the States to coordinate what my client’s wear every day- it’s called wardrobe consulting. I’m supposedly an expert, but it obviously doesn’t translate well.

I’m not going to fight this anymore. I’m choosing not to.

We all have WAY more to worry about.

Next time someone says something about the temperature I have my child at I’m going to let it go. Again, it’s funny the things that I didn’t think would be challenging have been. This is one of them.

March 3rd

Dr. Patrick has his two six year old twin daughters, Peace and Joy, staying with us this weekend. They live full time with Dr. Patrick’s wife in Kampala while they attend school. I’ve had so much fun playing with them this morning. Peace, in particular, wanted me to identify everything I have. “What is this? What is this?...” She even wanted to go through my clothes. I stopped her when she wanted to go through my “knickers”.

They are precious and have brought me “peace and joy"