Life and loss and everything in between

I have written a thousand updates in my head. I have actually typed out two updates that remained in the draft folder. I keep vowing to blog, giving up, deciding that no one cares anymore, resorting to Facebook for updates, forgetting the whole thing, and then starting the cycle all over.

But Facebook memories reminded me that two and three years ago, I used to consistently update my blog. I re-read one blog entry this morning and realized it's more than just an update of what's going on in our family. Or at least, it used to be.

I used to write because I like writing. I used to capture not only the "where are we now" moments, the "which country are we in and how many babies have we had" moments, but the in-between moments: the homesickness that catches you unaware when you're rinsing dishes in the sink. The life-loving moments that fill your heart to bursting when one of your boys holds hands with his neighbour and leads her gently to the sandbox to play. The when-will-this-end moments that come in waves, malaria on top of colds on top of dirty diapers on top of funerals. The what-did-I-learn-today moments that occur on a daily basis but fade gently into the back of our minds as we fall asleep each night, things that build us up and make us into better people, but don't get written down or overtly observed.

Back when I only had one or two children, I made time to capture all this. And I'm not even sure how many people read this blog, but I realized today how important it is for me. Even if no one reads it, it's there for me, and since I can type faster than I can write, it can be a journal of sorts. Our life here is unusual, and since sleep deprivation causes memory loss, perhaps I can look back on this when I'm old and grey and have adjusted the font on my computer to geriatric size, and I'll sit in my rocking chair and squint at the screen and mutter under my breath about the memories I chose to capture here.

When I'm washing dishes, nursing a baby, or trying to fall asleep at night, and chastising myself about my lack of blogging, I wrestle back and forth: first of all, no one is beating me up about this except myself, and I need to be gracious with myself and "let it go", etc etc. Second of all, can you imagine if I told one of my neighbours about this internal struggle? Me: I just really need to blog, you know? It's been a year. Them: I have no idea where our next meal is coming from...what's a "blog"?

So then the pendulum swings back to "who cares" and "no blog at all". But then I swing back the other way, again, to this: I need to write. It used to be life giving to me. And so I'm going to try. Again. And I may neglect it, again. But that's okay. I can care for my neighbours, and keep perspective, and still make time to write. Right?

Eleven months ago I wrote about our upcoming trip to Nairobi. At that time we were expecting twins. In June of last year, we lost Simeon at 27 weeks gestation, and in August of last year, Simeon and Isaiah were born at 36 weeks. We buried Simeon in September and had a memorial for him in October. All of these things are worth blogging about, and I don't know if I'll ever get around to it. This is one of the reasons I didn't get back to writing- because the things I need to write about were piling up, and I got overwhelmed. And how can I write about the little things if I haven't caught up on the big things? But here we are. I might never get around to writing down all the details of 2017. It wasn't a great year. Our son died.

But so much of that has been captured by camera and by memory. We don't forget the details anytime soon (some I wish I could). Nor will I forget the kindness of our neighbours, our families, our home church and our colleagues. They lifted us up in that time and carried us to this point. I still ache to hold Simeon every day. But the pain has lessened. I wonder, when Isaiah smiles, sits up, or rolls over, what it would be like to watch them both grow. To watch them grow together. To watch James try to kiss both babies, instead of just begging to "kiss Saya?" every morning, noon and night. To discuss a living child with David, instead of talking about where his brother is now, and why he can't play with him just yet. To hold them both. To hold all four of them.

So here we are, nine months after we lost our baby, almost seven months after we brought Isaiah home from the hospital. We are exhausted. We are busy. We are happy. We laugh every day. I cry every other day. Boys are no joke. They climb windows and bring dead beetles to the dinner table and stick their fingers in every single thing you bake. They have big feelings and strong opinions and loud voices and dirty feet. They have the energy of a dozen caffeinated puppies. They hate brushing their teeth.

Abram finished his dissertation at the end of February, which is a huge accomplishment worthy of celebration. He still has to write two articles to be published in journals by the end of May. At that point he will defend his dissertation, and at THAT point he will truly be done. The dissertation is a huge load off his shoulders, but he's still quite anxious to be finished with all assignments, and to move on to the next chapter of our lives. (Which is basically the same chapter we're in now- teaching and child-raising- but without a PhD hanging over our heads.)

We stayed in Nairobi for five months last year, but we've been home in our little village in Tanzania since late October. I made a quick trip to the States with Isaiah in November, which warrants another blog post at another time. Since then, we've been here at home, Abram has been teaching, and I spend every waking moment trying to parent our children, or trying to recover from parenting our children.

Below are a few pictures from the past seven months, everything from the birth of the twins up till now, in no particular order. Next week is James's second birthday, so I'll make every attempt to blog about that in the next, oh, six months or so.

Playing piano with a friend

David and Isaiah 

David and James carrying their baby (dolls) on their backs

Isaiah Immanuel Kidd 

Isaiah at one month 

Abram and his boys 

Isaiah

Playing outside 

Isaiah had emergency hernia surgery in October at 7 weeks old.
We were thankful to be near a good children's hospital in Nairobi. 

Our road trip from Nairobi back to Tanzania with our nanny-friend Mary.

James painted himself

Abram and Isaiah 

Abram and boys with our tanzanian family 

Isaiah is, in general, an incredibly happy baby

Taking a bath 

Abram and boys 

David opening presents with friends, on his third birthday, last September

I made Abram turmeric macaroons for his birthday 

Abram reading with James

David's birthday 

In the hospital with the twins- Isaiah on the left and Simeon wrapped in a blanket

David and James meeting Isaiah in the hospital 

Headed home from the hospital 

Isaiah at six months 

Back home

After seven months of travel, thousands of miles, four countries, eight states, two provinces, and too many goodbyes to count, we are finally "home" in our village in Bulima. (It certainly feels like home,  but at the same time, it's ALL home- Canada, America- so it's confusing when I use the term.)

Our time in the Northwest US (from mid-December until early April) went by quickly but was thoroughly enjoyable. We loved seeing friends and being a part of our home church again. And of course, my parents loved spending time with David and James and watching them learn and grow. We miss everyone already...

We are grateful for safe travels from Portland to Nairobi, although it was EXHAUSTING. I cannot overstate this. Exhausting. So, so hard. Traveling with toddler boys is hard, in case anyone was wondering. We thankfully had the foresight to rent a hotel during our 12 hour layover in Amsterdam, and we got a few hours of sleep there, which helped...but those 8 and 9 hour plane rides are a DOOZY.

We also spent a week in Nairobi, and visited friends, celebrated Easter, and visited Visible Grace. A week ago we flew to Mwanza, and now are slowly settling back into our house here at the Bible college.

I forgot...
...how hard it is to find good toilet paper here.
...how many ants there are.
...how HOT it can be.
...how slow the internet is.
...that you need to grind your coffee beans first thing in the morning, in case the power goes out.
...how difficult it can be to establish whether or not something in a restaurant is "gluten free".

I also forgot...
...how polite everyone is.
...how gorgeous our front yard is.
...how much everyone loves our boys.
...how big my kitchen is.
...how good it feels to be settled in our own home!

If you haven't heard through Facebook or our newsletter (would you like to get our monthly newsletter? Let me know), I am pregnant with twins! The babies are due in September. This changes our plans for the year pretty significantly...more on that later!

We are almost unpacked and are getting re-settled into our house. James and David are sharing a room, which is...eventful. Abram is teaching an intensive, three-week course on Genesis (because we will go up to Nairobi partly through this term), and I am spending my days trying to prepare for twins, trying to keep up with two TODDLERS, trying to remember how to conjugate verbs in Swahili, trying to get some rest, and trying to figure out what to make for dinner every night.

I will try to update again in a few weeks, but for now, here are a few pictures of David and James exploring our house and being best friends:

World Travelers

I got to take my real camera on a walk on one of our last sunny days, to capture the fall colours here on the farm in Renfrew.

Surprise surprise- I'm behind on blogging again. Lots has happened in the past few months! We are now on home assignment, which is another way to say furlough. Which is another way to say that we are spending time as a family, spending time with extended family, visiting friends and supporters, and hopefully relaxing somewhere in there as well. Living in Africa is draining and difficult- I don't mean to complain, only to explain why we are traveling at this time. We love living in Tanzania, but our mission (AIM) knows that people need "down time", where they are not "on". Living in a village has us in the spotlight almost constantly. We are hopeful that these next few months give us time to reflect, relax, and connect with people who love us and support us in what we do. But I digress- here's what we've been up to lately:

AUGUST (still in TZ) was a really difficult month- all four of us had malaria, and I had strep and a sinus infection, as well. Taking care of sick boys when you are not feeling well is HARD. Abram was very busy, wrapping up work projects and dissertation research. The boys were busy exploring, growing and learning, and I was busy trying to pack and prepare for our upcoming trips. We left our home in TZ on August 31, to drive to Nairobi.

Moments before we got in the car for our 11 hour drive! James accurately demonstrates how we all felt at 6am. 

SEPTEMBER was a whirlwind of travel. We spent a week in Nairobi, a week in Oklahoma, and a few days each in Missouri, Indiana, Illinois and Minnesota. Highlights included a Kidd family reunion in the Ozarks, a Rauch family wedding in Indiana, time with friends in Illinois, and time with each of Abram's brothers. The boys did remarkably well with the constant upheaval, but I think they are glad to be settled now.

In OK with cousins. We love getting to see D get to know his family!

The Kidd cousins, together for a crazy and fun weekend in Missouri 

My brother and James, at my brother's wedding

In Nairobi, we really enjoyed our time at Visible Grace. I was shooting video (to be used for fundraising and at our annual auction in November), and we also got to tour the new house, which is almost finished and ready to be filled with new kiddos next year! We only get to visit the kids a couple times a year, so it's always a blessing to see how they're doing and be amazed at how quickly they are growing.

Ashby, David and the VG kids

In Indiana, the day after my brother's wedding, David turned two! We were so grateful to be with my family, since last year we didn't have either biological family with us. It was simple and perfect- a song, a cake and a couple gifts. (Shout out to my sister for providing a "2" candle and a "happy birthday" banner.) We sure love this growing, talking, squirming, mischievous boy!

 OCTOBER has mostly been here in Renfrew, in Ontario, at Abram's parents' farm. We've been here 2.5 weeks now, and the boys seem pretty settled in and comfortable. They are finally sleeping in their own rooms, after 5 weeks of sharing rooms and beds on the road! David loves playing outside and helping Grandad with chores, and James loves the extra attention and cuddles he gets from his grandparents...and I love having extra help with diaper changes! James is now almost 7 months, and is crawling and has two teeth. Eek- slow down baby!

Picnic lunch on possibly our last sunny day of the year.

We will be here in Renfrew for 2 more months before flying to visit my family in the States. The time is going so quickly- I can hardly wait to be with my family, but it's hard, because once we leave here, we won't be back for a couple years at least. It's not easy to love more than one home. It's always a balance between enjoying the one you're in (and we have four places we love now), and longing for the one you're not with. But for the meantime, we are trying to soak up every moment here in Canada, while missing and thinking of our friends back in Africa, and looking forward to time with friends in the States.

Though our internet is better here, I'm still finding it hard to blog, because the boys are so busy! Maybe I'll have time to blog more in 18 years or so... (will we still have internet then??)

Abram, David, Steve, John and Judy at Visible Grace

Family picture at the wedding

Cousins

On the Kidd farm

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

We got to go on a DATE. Thanks, David and Erika!

Chicago Airport Selfie

Sundays

In contrast to my previous post, Sundays can actually be very quiet. Here's a quick picture of what our day looks like today:

Both of our boys are not feeling well, so we stayed home from church today. Only two people have knocked on our door. David is sitting at the table eating a snack, James is in his Johnny jump up (or jolly jumper, for our Canadian delegates), Abram is making sauerkraut, and I'm drinking coffee and ranting to him about politics. :) Oh, and I hoarded leftovers for a few days, so that we wouldn't have to cook.

Okay, actually, that all happened a few minutes ago- right at this exact moment, I'm nursing James and typing one handed, because if I don't get this down now, I never will!

Just wanted to get this in writing in the hopes that I can look back on this hectic season and remember the few peaceful moments. (When we do go to church, it's a very different story. I'll try to blog about that another day...)

Happy sabbath, friends.

A day in the life

I have wanted for a while now to give you guys a glimpse of our daily life. But it's so hard! It's hard to find time. It's hard to explain to people who haven't been here. It's hard to strike a balance between "real" and "readable".

First of all, life here can be really heavy. There are funerals in our village at least once a week. People come to our door asking for work or loans, or selling their chickens or produce. People are hungry. The rains are always late, or not enough, and harvests are small. The economy is slow and work is scarce. Or they ask for medicine and medical advice (thanks, webMD!), or a ride to the hospital, or help paying a doctor's bill. We give protein and supplements to nursing mothers, cough medicine to sick babies (we have a full supply thanks to David's cough-a-thon last year), bandages and clean cloths for cut fingers, drinking water to whoever knocks on our door.

David sharing a cup of soup with some of his favourites

But there's so much that isn't said in that paragraph. "Drinking water" sounds so simple and can be taken for granted, but the people coming to our door often don't have running water, and even if they do, it has to be boiled, filtered and cooled before it is drinkable. "Harvests are small" means almost nothing to people who buy the bulk of their food at a grocery store, as I did when I lived in the States, but our friends and neighbours live off of what they can grow, and there is no grocery store in our village. A doctor's bill is often $5 or less, but if you don't have an income, it might as well be $500. A bus ticket into Mwanza, where the bigger hospitals are, is about $4. But the average daily wage is $2. Imagine if it cost you $150 to get to the hospital.

The weird thing about life being hard here is that most of this isn't happening to our family. Thank God we have our health and our finances are stable. We don't lack food. We have a car and can drive to the hospital if we need to. These things aren't happening to us, but happening around us. But when you live in a close-knit community, when you really love your neighbours "as yourselves", then their problems become yours; your burdens are theirs. (We are so grateful for our neighbours and friends when one of us- any of us- is sick and we need an extra hand around the house!)

So. As I said. Life here can be heavy. Just living here is a full-time job. I thank God every day for the two women who help me around the house, washing dishes and diapers (BY HAND), and watching David in the evenings while I cook dinner. I don't know what I would do without them, and they in turn are grateful for an income to support their families. Even with help, getting through the day is a full-time job: cooking all our meals from scratch (90% of our diet is perishable and local!), changing diapers, nursing James, trying to keep David busy, and answering the door a dozen times a day.

Essentially, that's my day: cooking, playing with the boys, and answering the door.

"Answering the door". I am starting to take this for granted, then a quick chat with my sister reminds me of how different life is in the West, or even in the suburbs. In the US, you could go an entire day without someone coming over to your house, unless they are invited and expected. Give or take a UPS guy or a quick hello from your neighbour, your door is probably closed and quiet. Try to visualise this with me:

Because doors here are often left open all day, and doorbells are nonexistent, people say "hodi" (hoe-dee) when they come to your door- it's essentially the equivalent of saying "knock, knock!". This was, notably, one of David's first words. We get around 15-20 "hodis" a day. The hodis range from friends stopping by, to workers (we try to find work find as many people as we can, doing work for the school, working in our yard, fixing things around the house, watering flowers- anything that helps them provide for their families), people asking for a cup of water, people in the village asking Abram for advice or counsel, people asking to borrow money, people wanting to play with David or hold James, people asking for a ride somewhere, people selling us food (chicken, fish, fruit and veggies), people asking what time it is, students dropping off assignments or asking for help with their work. There are often a few extra people around the table at mealtimes, and mornings can often find Abram in the kitchen, doling out bone broth to whoever stops by...and on and on. And on. Some days it takes me an hour (or more) to do something that should take about 15 minutes. (Though I'm not sure if it's the visitors or David who is to blame...)

These girls ask to hold James almost every day!

Some days, it feels overwhelming. Most days, I really enjoy it and look forward to it. Entire days go by where I don't leave my house (except to weed in the garden, if I'm lucky and James naps!), and being extremely extroverted, I appreciate the chance to talk to people over the age of 2. My Swahili is good enough to talk to them, and I know most of their names and faces by now. David loves the attention. Abram enjoys building relationships with people, but some days make it hard for him to get any work done. Our American neighbour described her life as a "ministry of interruptions", and I am starting to see it that way, too. Imagine yourself at home in the evening, chopping onions, nursing your baby, answering the door, getting someone a drink of water, and chatting with a neighbour, all at the same time. Lovely? Or stressful? Well, both.

A few of our neighbours stopping by for a visit

If we follow Jesus's example in the gospels, there's not a lot of room for privacy. But as a young couple with young kids, we need some family time! It's hard to find a balance, but we are learning and growing, and grateful for the opportunity to develop close relationships with the people in our village. The American church talks often of living authentically and living in community. In the West, "community" is controlled, planned, and safe. Here, it's unscheduled, unpredictable, and at times, inconvenient.

One of the reasons I struggle to write about this is because I don't want to seem like I'm complaining, but I want people to understand how different our life is here. If I mention offhand to someone that we have several visitors a day, I'm not sure they really grasp what I mean. I hope I've been able to paint a bit of a picture for you. We have such an amazing village of people who love David and James and we love sharing our home, our stories and our resources with them...it can be exhausting, but it is so worth it. 

James Silas

I have tried to update our blog a million times. Two kids under two is hard. Slow internet is hard. A thousand interruptions is hard. Just while writing that sentence I got interrupted six times, and only twice because of my kids.

My point is: James Silas Kidd was born on March 28, 2016, at 9:05 am, after 12 hours of (unmedicated*) labour in a hospital in Nairobi, Kenya. He weighed 8lbs and was 20 inches long- a full pound heavier and two inches longer than David was. (Now, at 3.5 months, he's 14lbs, and more-than-20 inches.)

He's the best. He's very different than Davidy, and by that I mean, calm, quiet, laid-back, happy, easy going...you get the idea.

We named him James after my favourite book of the Bible/because it's a name we both like. His middle name, Silas, is from Abram's Tanzanian grandfather, who "adopted" Abram into the family several years ago, and who passed away in March, just two weeks before James was born. We miss him and love him so much!

We are settling into a routine as a family of four. About once a week I get the boys to nap at the same time. (About once a week David doesn't nap at all.)(It's really fun.) Of course this routine will quickly be disrupted, because we are headed to North America soon! We will be in the US and Canada from September-mid April. We are so excited to catch up with family and friends! In the meantime, here we are! A houseful of boys.

I would like to blog more (than twice a year), and often compose nice long posts in my head, but they rarely make it to my computer, as you can see. I have no idea if anyone actually checks our blog. But I"m too stubborn to give up entirely. Just being honest! 

*Yes, I will brag about unmedicated labour. I won't preach about it, but I decided I have earned the right to brag! 

 

Abram on Father's Day

David aggressively loving on his little brother

Family of four!

Two months old (Don't ask me where his 1 month or 3 month photos are...! I did take them)