Health

Kieran's been mildly sick for a few weeks, but finally seems on the mend. He was just having trouble digesting food, and it was painful to watch him struggle to eat. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a really sick child. It would be exhausting and heart-breaking. A young friend of ours in Zimbabwe died just before Easter. Tawanda was the cutest little boy (his photos are on this blog a few times) and he was always in our home - chatting away, or trying to carry the water can for the garden or telling jokes in Shona. His death is a mystery to us (all we know is he woke up with stomach pains) and it really distressed us. God knows.

The cuzes

We just spent a few days down in Orlando, Florida with Josh and Jenn and their adorable baby Aiden. Kieran loved meeting up with his aunt, uncle and little cousin. Kieran and Aiden are only 2 months apart, and I think they're going to hvae a lot of fun in the future. On our last night there they both stayed awake way past bedtime. I suspect that Kieran (the older cousin) initiated this sleepover plot! He went swimming for the first time and peed all over his face for the first time. Babies are fun.

A week in the life of

On Monday Kieran and I went to a very sad funeral. It was for a mom and son. The son died during childbirth because of complications and a c-section (this freaked me out - I had a c-section) and then the mother died from a blood clot the day she returned from the hospital. Can you imagine!?! They were buried together - her holding him in the coffin. There are 2 sons left behind who could really use your prayers. It was a very sobering moment to be singing "Amazing Grace" on a frigid, windy, snowy day as this coffin was descending into the earth, I was holding onto Kieran's stroller and the family was weeping. I needed a big long Kieran cuddle when we got home.

Wednesday we went to the dentist as a family. Of course Kieran didn't have any teeth to be cleaned, but he was passed around to all the staff and found the colourful toothbrushes interesting to look at.

Yesterday I was singing the national anthem and praying at an awards dinner for a home that supports people who are deaf and blind (did you know there are 15,500 deaf-blind people in Canada? that seems like so many!) I was watching a woman translate for her friend - making signs in her hand (just like Helen Keller's friend did). It amazed me that there could be so many different words and signs in such a small space. The dinner was at the Royal York Hotel and Kieran was the only baby, so he got passed around a lot (I'm so thankful he has my social skills!) During my singing, Jim Flaherty (Minister of Finance and special guest) smiled at me. Ooooooh.

Today we're heading up to Jackson's Point for our church's Easter camp (Passover dinner tonight) and then we leave for Orlando on Saturday. I can't wait to meet my nephew.

Happy Easter everyone!

Kissing time

People often ask me what my daily schedule is like. I don't really have one. I kind of just see how things go. (It's actually kind of freeing to live this way for a time!) There are no set times to do anything, but there are certain elements that are involved in every day. There's story time, eating time, changing time, nap time, bouncing/washing dishes time, watch the fishies time, swing time, gym time, often Tim Hortons time and... my favourite... kissing time! Of course I kiss Kieran all throughout the day, but I also reserve time just for kissing. I lay him on his back and kiss him all over. He always smiles and giggles and squeals, and it's the highlight of my day.

Kieran has discovered his tongue, and is sticking it in and out, in and out with pride. It's very cute. He's also enjoying scratching different surfaces and discovering the different sounds and touches. For 4 nights in a row he's woken up drenched in pee (I feel like I've forgotten the art of diapering - what happened? any tips?) He loves bouncing in the jolly jumper. He's growing and getting cuter continually. Gotta go.. it's kissing time!

It took us all day to eat lunch

Not because it was a huge lunch. But because when you have a baby and you don't have a car, you need to plan. We wanted to meet my friend for lunch downtown at 12, so at 9 I started preparing and we left here around 10. We did catch an excellent art exhibit on the way (in honour of Refugee Rights Day) and then arrived home after 3pm. Sometimes TTC is excellent and accessible. Sometimes streetcar drivers refuse to help you and subway elevators aren't working.

We did meet an interesting man on the subway. He struck up a conversation as soon as we got on. He was in full Blue Jays gear and complimenting the baby. Then he shared that he used to hold his friend's baby, but the last time that he did this (or spoke to his friend) was in 1986. The friend - John - refused to speak to him because he thought the Blue Jays fan was being strange with his wife. "I wonder what that baby girl looks like now. I guess she's a woman. I miss that friend and his family." The gentleman shared (in 4 stops!) that he has a learning disability and a mild form of psychosis. He wonders if he'll ever have a girlfriend. He had one girl that was a friend, but she blocked his number, because she said he was too intense. I felt bad for the guy. He was very friendly and obviously very lonely. He just wants love and acceptance. Would I be his friend? When he mentioned psychosis, he looked at the stroller and said "there's no cure. I just have to live with it." What a lonely life.

Staring

Kieran is 4 months old now. He's a really curious guy (of course I think he's a genius, but even the doctor says he's smart) and is at a stage where he stares - at everyone. He stares at us and at his family members, but also at random strangers on the bus. One lady at Tim Hortons came up to me and told me that I should tell my son that staring is rude. Random. But this is Toronto! The other day two men in our elevator were having a conversation in Urdu and Kieran was just staring at them. Maybe he's picked up the language! It's cute. I'm totally in love with my son and his beautiful, blue, staring eyes.

2 women

We just got back from a great holiday in White Rock and Vancouver, British Columbia and then Drumheller, Alberta. It was cool to see the mountains and the ocean and the dinosaurs and hoo doos, but most of all it was cool to spend some time with great people - and to introduce them to Kieran. We got to spend time with 2 amazing women who have a huge influence on my life - Nana and Anita.

Nana is my grandmother (my mom's mom). She is an amazing woman of 85 who has spent her life praying, being kind to others, singing, leading... She is a great communicator who has always kept in touch with us and given us treats and been a big part of lives no matter the distance. We always knew when our phone lines were working again in Zimbabwe, because we would get a call from Nana. It was a delight to see her holding Kieran, and he did an amazing race of "almost" crawling, just to end up in her arms.

Anita is a beautiful friend who is a bit younger than Nana (!) but also spends her life praying, being kind to others, being an an extrordinary mom, leading The Salvation Army in Drumheller with her husband, cooking yummy food.... She is a joy to talk to and someone who really "gets" me. I am so thankful for her friendship.

Spending time with good people is refreshing. I recommend it. (Oh and do go out and see the mountains/ocean/dinosaurs/hoodoos - they're cool too).

Joy

I am not sure whether or not to blog anymore. Compared to my life in Zimbabwe, life now is so... ordinary and uninteresting. And yet I am more content and at peace than I can ever remember. I expected to love being a mother. I didn't expect to LOVE being a mother. I never get tired of staring at Kieran, or marvelling at him or feeling complete joy when I am with him. Of course I have moments where I cry along with him or feel completely exhausted, but overall, I am just enthralled with our son and so humbled and blessed to be his mom. I love the word Mommy.

Two weeks ago we attended the funeral of a friend. I was determined to feel joyful at this funeral, because I wanted to celebrate my friend's life. But I cried the whole way through. I believe in Heaven, and that the person is in a much better place. I just find it hard to see the kids and people left behind. The funeral reminded me of too much death and loss that I have experienced. And I think the sadness caught me off guard. Kieran Tinashe has brought me so much joy that the sadness was like a slap in the face. To me, Kieran is joy. At the funeral I held him close. When I think of suffering in the world, I hug Kieran and delight in his innocence. When I was visiting with my sister in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver yesterday and seeing so many people addicted to drugs with empty eyes, I needed to see Kieran too. I recommend holding a baby. In his little short life I have seen people's faces and moods completely change as they hold his little (but growing) body.

God is so good.

Almost 3 weeks old

Apparently, time flies when you're a new mom. Tomorrow Kieran Tinashe will be 3 weeks old. I remember 3 weeks ago today - all of the anticipation and waiting; all the normalcy (we went for Japanese food, watched movies and I did the irnoning) and craziness (intense contractions!!) of the day. And then our baby being born!! Our lives changed forever!

I love being a mother. As soon as Kieran was born I started bawling. I cried for a good 10 minutes before I said anything because I was completely overwhelmed with love. Those were my first words - "I just love him so much." It was instant and immediate. Of course I loved him while he was growing inside of me for 9 months, but as soon as I heard him and saw him... and then got to hold him... wow - nothing like it.

In honour of the 3 weeks, here are 3 of my favourite things that my baby boy does:

1. He gets excited about his bottle. Newborns sleep a lot, but they wake up when they are hungry. Kieran cries until the moment when the bottle comes to his mouth. Then his head shakes a little and he brings both his hands to his face - like he is ready to box. He's so happy! It's very cute to watch, and a humbling reminder that he is totally dependent on us for survival.

2. He snuggles well. Is there anything more peaceful than holding a sleeping baby? Or having him lie on your chest while you both have a nap? Or gazing into his face and watching him fall asleep or wake up? Or just looking into his eyes and having a good chat at 4am? He's a really good snuggler.

3. He makes people happy. I prayed for a mild-tempered and sociable baby and God heard my prayers. Kieran is not too fussy and so we've been able to be out and about a little bit. Wherever we go, he makes people happy - whether it's at a homeless dinner or a gospel choir concert or at church or at THQ or just on the street (people smile at you if you have a baby stroller!) People love seeing a baby. It brings out the best in people, and it's a beautiful thing to watch. My son is a joy-bringer. I'm such a proud mom...

God is with us

For those friends and family not on Facebook, we've got big news: Kieran Tinashe McAlister was born Friday morning at 4:22. He weighs 8 pds 2 oz and has reddish hair. Mommy and baby are both doing well and will be released from the hospital on Monday. Dad is trying to be as helpful as possible.

Tinashe is a Shona name that means "God is with us." More updates soon.

Still waiting

I had a dream two nights ago: I was out for a walk, and when I came back to the apartment, there was a message from John to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I went, and he explained to me that I'd missed the labour and birth. Sure enough, I looked down to where my normally huge belly is and I had a flat stomach. The doctors said it was a medical miracle! John explained that since they hadn't been in touch with me, they brought my sister in to the meet the baby. He thought I should go in, so the baby wouldn't be confused about who the real mother was. The baby was SO cute! He never cried, and just loved smiling and cooing. Ah, the fantasy life... :)

Our baby's 6 days late, but it feels longer. It feels like I've been pregnant a very long time! I think mature people can appreciate waiting. Spiritually mature people can appreciate that God can teach us so much through times of waiting. I don't feel very mature! I feel impatient! I feel huge and heavy and nervous about the impending labour (supposedly he has a big head - yikes!) I feel like I'm incompetent somehow when everyone's like "what's up? what's wrong? where is he?" Whereas really, I should just be happy that our little baby is safe, healthy and growing. Besides, with his combination of Ivany-Island-African roots, he didn't have a chance of being early or on time!

Helpless

Our baby has still not arrived. I think he's too happy/comfy in there. It makes sense - who would want to come out to the dreary weather we've been having if they have a nice warm waterbed they're swimming around in? I continue to stay home and rest. Daytime t.v. has become a bit boring, so I'm trying to keep my mind active, but maybe I'm spending too much time thinking!

Last night I didn't sleep well. I had a dream about Zimbabwe. Usually when I dream about Zimbabwe, it's a situation where I have arrived back but not been allowed to bring anything with me. So either I'm stressed, wondering how I'm going to find food or money or else I'm just stressed because I don't have anything to give those I love. And then I always see people I love from a distance, but something keeps me from being able to talk to them. The dreams are kind of sad! I often feel helpless when I think about Zimbabwe. I worry when I don't hear from people, but then when I do hear from people, I also worry. And I feel helpless.

Yesterday I got a letter from one of my Zimbabwean mothers. She and her husband are pensioners that live on the compound where we used to live. They've both lost all of their children, and so they adopted us and really believe that we were sent to Zimbabwe to be their kids. The letter made me feel horrible. She wrote about how they had not heard from us on Mac's birthday and that he was disappointed about that (I did send a card, but I guess it never arrived). She wrote about her poor health and asked me to send medication. She said they're struggling for food. She said all of the money we left is finished and that we should send more or else they would die. I read this letter and just felt totally deflated, guilty, and most of all just HELPLESS! I just kept repeating, "I don't know what to do."

Zimbabwe was so real for us. The relationships were real. It really did feel like we were adopted into families; that we became son and daughter. It was a beautiful thing. But how does that continue now? When we were there, it was easy to be good kids. It was easy to bring food and money, to access medicine, to bring cake on birthdays. It was easy to visit with people, to listen and to share life. But now? From here? Zimbabwe is complicated. It's hard to transfer money. It's hard to know if parcels and letters will arrive. The phones are usually down. Even if it were easy to send money, how much should we send and how would we decide who to send it to? I've seen it from both sides now. I've lived with families who are counting on their "rich overseas relatives" for survival. And I've worked in Canada with refugees & immigrants on this side who don't feel very rich and struggle to make ends meet while still sending as much as possible "home."

We never meant to create dependence. We know what good development is. We know that it's better to teach people to fish than give people fish. We didn't want to make people dependent on us. But it's Zimbabwe. 80% unemployment, a trillion% inflation, shortages on all basic goods. How are people supposed to make and save money? Even those who are working full-time struggle for basics like school fees. We've been there. We've borne witness. So what's our responsibility?

It's heart-breaking to feel helpless. I know I can't be stressed now. I know that I have to rest and save up all my energy for giving birth and having a newborn. I just struggle to integrate the extreme experience of Zimbabwe into my Canadian life. I don't believe that God brought us all that way and showed us so many things and gave us so many people to love just to forget now. But I don't know how to re-member well or to bring the two different "lives" together. I don't want to be one of those people that gets so overwhelmed with "the weight of the world" that I don't do anything. But I also don't want to go crazy or feel guilty/stressed/sorrowful every time I think of our friends and family in Zimbabwe.

Well, maybe Dr. Phil will have some insight for me today...

Due date

So, today was the big day... but nothing happened. I guess our baby's on African time. I must admit that it's weird at this stage to just be waiting. I'm at home, trying to rest and entertain myself (I dusted!) but it's just waiting and wondering, knowing that a major life change is going to happen, not knowing exactly what that will be like and ready to find out. I feel like I've been pregnant forever, and I'm starting to have dreams about him never coming out (I'm also having dreams about being chased by crocodiles... I'm sure it's unrelated).

But there are still good things:
- Eventually our son will come to the outside world and be held in my arms instead of my tummy,
- Melissa Fung was released, unharmed,
- Barack Obama won (attitude change IS possible),
- I have a while to get used to being a parent before having a teenager (watched a scary Dr. Phil about salvia and sexting - new teen trends - very scary!)
- We don't have cockroaches OR crocodiles in our apartment...

Remembrance Day

Today is November 11 - Remembrance Day - the 90th anniversary of the end of World War I. Imagine how that must have felt to the world - peace at last. What a shame that so much war is still going on, and mostly affecting civilians.

I must admit that I feel conflicted about Remembrance Day. Maybe it's because I grew up in multicultural, postmodern Canada; maybe it's because I'm a pacifist. Part of me struggles to honour people that fought. Part of me struggles with the phrase "fighting for peace." And yet I know this makes me sound so selfish and ignorant because I get to live off of the avails - in freedom. A woman in the doctor's office this morning was distressed because her poppy had fallen off. I gave her mine, and she shared how she had lost the two people closest to her in the war. My heart went out to her. Of course I get choked up when I see old men in uniform, standing proudly or weeping softly - remembering all of those losses and tragedies from so long ago. Of course I feel compassion, respect and gratitude for them. But if I'd known them when they were young with guns?

Maybe I've just had too many scary experiences of young (often drunk) men in military fatigues with guns and a seeming disdain for human life.

"Lest we forget." One theory is that if we remember war and document it and keep it in our minds and our children's minds, we will not return to it. The other theory is that as long as we remember it, we will feel that loss and a need for revenge. But maybe that doesn't count in Canada because we don't really have any enemies and there is no revenge to be had. To remember or to forget. I guess most people who have seen real war don't have a choice. I have a small understanding of the inner conflict you feel in wanting to both remember and forget at the same time.

5 days to go

Well, I'm due in 5 days. So I'm finished work and resting at home. I guess I'm overdoing it a bit. I threw up 5 times in the shower yesterday. At least it was easy to clean up! But I spent the whole day today relaxing and catching up on day-time t.v.

John's nesting. He keeps wandering around our nursery, making sure everything is in the perfect place and that we have everything in order.

I'm enjoying... warm baths before bed, cheesies, back massages, thinking about holding our little son...

More than a doll

We went to our last pre-natal class last night. They taught us to swaddle babies and bathe babies and breastfeed babies and attend to babies' (minor) medical needs (John asked about a gushing leg wound and they said just to go straight to emergency for that!) I got really emotional with the doll - talking to him and wanting to hug him. I can't imagine what I'll be like with our own son. It's just so amazing to imagine that he will be us - a part of us and with us forever. Ah, God is good.

When the words won't come

I'm an "emoter" and a "sharer." I don't have a problem sharing my feelings, because I wear my heart on my sleeve. So it's frustrating when I can't express what I want to. This morning we were asked to share about our Zimbabwean experience at THQ (where we work). I worked on my little 8 minute talk for hours. I knew I didn't have a lot of time, so I tried to cram in as much as I could. And I couldn't express it. I couldn't express what life was really like or the various stresses. I couldn't explain that ever-present joy mixed with sadness. I couldn't express how much I admire the people there, and I couldn't express what our relationships were like. I tried to create the mood of what the praise is like - the singing and dancing and exuberant joy. But I couldn't. I sing differently now. It's like I've lost my Zimbabwean voice. I was so committed to not forgetting; to remembering well. But I don't know how to honour my experience and all the courageous people I met. Life there was just so very, very different than life here.

In baby news... all is well. 3 weeks to go. Yesterday we had an ultrasound and learned that our little boy is already a great size and moving a lot. I can't wait to meet him.

Thankful for voting

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving. We had a busy weekend, and Thanksgiving kind of came and went rather quickly this year. It's a shame, because it's such an amazing holiday - a chance to thank God for the hundreds of thousands of blessings in your life. I could talk all day about all the things I am thankful for (including the fact that I have our BABY growing inside of me, and that I am not worried about dying in childbirth!)

One reason I'm thankful today is that I was able to walk into a school across from our apartment to vote. No one intimidated me, no one beat me or threatened to kill me. No one noted my presence so they could attack me later on. I just got to calmly walk into the school, go behind a secret booth and place my little checkmark beside the name of the candidate I want. I find Canadian politics a little boring, but I have to vote. Voting freely is a privilege that hundreds of my friends would love the chance for.

Mother and Daughter

"My own daughter came back with two children from that abuse inflicted on her by the rebels. She was 14 when she was taken and she came back after eight years. I am sure in your country, a child goes missing (pause), let’s say a parent goes to pick a child from school and he is not there. Five minutes is enough for that parent to panic. But eight years I have been waiting, knowing very well what the rebels do, their brutality... Every day we were wondering, “Has the child died today? Has she been injured? Is she bleeding to death? Has she been abandoned in the bush alone? Has she been killed and her body is rotting somewhere?"

"For the past eight years I have been in the bush. I was totally cut off from the world. It’s like being put in a tomb, you are still breathing, but you are in there. In the bush it was always horrible. I didn’t understand at first what they were talking about, you know, someone very old, in his late 50s. You cannot imagine. I thought maybe he was out of his head, not joking, because I have never seen any of them joking. But after that, they just have to tie you up and somebody rapes you, just like that. I was always, always afraid they might ask me to kill somebody, I was always, always afraid to do that. One day some girl tried to escape, and they asked us, all 30 of us girls to come. We went there not knowing what was going to happen. They gave us all big sticks and they ordered us to beat her to death. We could not imagine doing this and we refused, we refused... we refused, but, we were beaten so badly, to the extent that we all had to beat her to death and so we did... There was no day when you would get up and smile to see the sun rise, because everyday you would think, maybe today, maybe today will be the end of me."

Young woman abducted at 14 years of age and given as a forced wife to an LRA commander. She is the daughter of the woman quoted above.

Life can be so sobering. Last May I went to Gulu, Northern Uganda and met brave, beautiful young women who had been forced to marry LRA members; others to march around in the bush and fight. They're not just statistics. They're real people - mothers and daughters... waiting to be reunited.

Talking to God

I've been thinking a lot about human trafficking in the last couple of months, because it's the social issue that I'm working on. There was a series of articles about trafficking in the Sun this week. Monday's article really moved me. It was about how Aboriginals are affected disproportionately by sexual trafficking in Canada. Aboriginal youth are only 3 - 5% of the Canadian population, and yet they can be 90% of the visible sex trade in this country. 75% of young Aboriginal women are sexually abused before they are 18. They're trafficked into the sex industry at the ages of 7 - 12. In some places, the sex industry is so racialized that Aboriginal women are solicited when they are just on a smoke break outside of their workplace. I can't imagine. It's shameful. These women and children need to be treated with dignity and respect, and they need healing and prayer.

Last weekend was an international weekend of prayer for victims of sexual trafficking, so all across the world, people in The Salvation Army gathered to pray about it. I organized services at my work and at church, and it felt powerful to be praying alongside brothers, sisters, mothers and daughters all around the world. Prayer is powerful.

I'm trying to make a decision about something right now, and it's bothering me that I'm spending so much time thinking and mulling over the options. I just chatted with my brother, and he asked "did you pray about it?" I should have. But when I tried, the issue just seemed so insignificant to bother God about! Oh, I know God wants us to come to Him with everything, and that He can listen to all things at once. But I don't know... sometimes I wonder if we're being a bit irreverant by asking God to decide for us about "little things." There are such big things that need attention!