My Life as an African Gypsy

Here we are, 32 weeks along.

My back went out on Christmas Eve, sending me to the ER, multiple doctors' appointments, and eventually driving to South Africa in search of a Chiropractor knowledgeable of working with very pregnant women. Thankfully we found one, I was adjusted, and I am on my way to complete recovery.

With my previous back problems and at this point in pregnancy my muscles beginning to relax in preparation for labor, it made it easy for my spine to sort of slip 'out-of-whack'. Looks like for the next 8 weeks I will need to be a little more cautious. =/

Maybe my 60 hours of constant pain was good practice for labor without pain medication, allowing me to discover "comfortable" positions for this big ol' pregnant bod of mine. Hot showers and the exercise ball were some of the only relief.


Other than that lovely experience the only other ailment has been my big fat swollen feet at the end of the days. I've never had swollen feet/cankles in my life. It's not that I find them hurting as much as just creepy looking.

Anaya has moved herself more on top of my bladder. Lovely. I have already had one little accident sneezing. I looked at Jon and said, "I have to go change; I think I peed myself!" Isn't that just one of the nice perks of this journey? I have lost all confidence in myself being able to hold it in, so I tend to frequent the toilet, I am sure well before the need. Nights are full of me trying to roll this whale of a self out of bed, waddle to the bathroom in the dark, and then climb back in bed, adjusting the 50 million pillows surround me.

Oh! (I guess I lied when I said swollen feet were the only ailment... they keep coming to me!) I no longer have room for food. Indigestion is a regular part of life now, and the desire for food is quickly diminishing. Small meals will be key I suppose. Maybe it will help the weight slow down.

I think I've gained somewhere between 22 and 25 pounds. I am not positive because this morning I was down. I think the holidays coming to a close and my lack of desire for food has balanced me out. We'll see where I end up. I'd love to stay at 30 or below, but since I still have 8 weeks, I'm not sure that's going to happen. =)

Anaya is active, what seems like all day every day. Sometimes I think she'll push right out of there! My tummy looks like rolling waves, all to the right one second and then to left the next. Nice thing was, even with all my back pain, she kept up her movements, allowing me peace of mind for her safety.

We are getting closer to being finished in her room. I am anxious to have it all ready for her. I'll post pictures when it's completed. I still need to sew curtains, but I'm waiting until my back feels up to sitting in front of a sewing machine for an hour or two.

Well, I've written a lot. Hope you feel updated! Can't wait to meet my baby girl.

Joanna -

Joanna is 26, the same age as me. Young. Her mom has died and so has her only daughter. "Bad luck," she told me. She only has her sister, who is as poor as she is, and works a lot, not allowing her to visit much, and even then is unable to bring much comfort food or drink.

I met her about 5 months ago. She had just had her right arm amputated, due to cancer. Since then her health has been deteriorating. She's back in Oncology right now. She is terribly thin. The wound where her arm was cut off has never healed. You can smell the rotting flesh. Now she has more wounds on her body; they are so deep I can see her muscles. It amazes me how the human body can keep on.

She is unable sit on her own, so when I come, she likes to sit up. It wears her out.

Fruit. Fruit juice, fresh juice... it is all she wants. It's not much, but that I can do. For her last few days, I can bring her a few comforts.

Pray for Joanna. For her pain. For her approaching death. For peace. For her soul.

Jonathan -

Jon's friend. He lived in Zimbabwe for some time, so he speaks better English than Portuguese. He loves chatting with Jon about the Lord. Jon gave him an English Bible. Jonathan hasn't seen his wife and children in a year. Before coming to Oncology he was at another clinic.

Jonathan has tumors all over his body. Recently, they seem to be growing at an amazing pace. From week to week, Jon can see the difference; they are bigger. He's having a second surgery soon.

At this point, Jon and I believe the cancer has spread too much to contain.

Pray for Jonathan. For his pain. For wisdom on when to go home and see his family... even if only for his last days. For acceptance. For his soul.

Alexandre -

A young boy, I believe to be 11 years old. He has the best smile... seriously it is contagious, beautiful, sweet, bright, etc. He holds a dear place in our hearts; we love him. He is having his last Chemo treatment at the end of this month, and he and his mother believe he is going home to live a normal full life. We unfortunately know otherwise. A nurse told our friend that the doctors have decided there is nothing else they can do for him.

Pray for a miracle. Pray for healing. Pray for time with his brothers. For his precious soul.

Lucia -

Lucia is 13. When she first arrived at the hospital, I thought she was pregnant. She is/was not. She has a massive tumor in her stomach. Lucia is precious to me. She give great hugs and kisses on my cheeks. Her nails are frequently painted. She a regular teen... other than this ugly sickness.

From what we know and have experienced, her tumor is too far progressed for the Chemo to help. She is now having new pains. They are thinking about operating. Her sweet father has grown more and more worried, as have her mother and sisters back home.

Pray for wisdom for her father. Pray for wisdom for her doctors. For her pain. For hope. For her young soul.

Sometimes we have to choose thanks. Sometimes we have to choose praise.

So this Thanksgiving the choice is a little more difficult, yet I will... I will choose thanks.

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I am thankful for the opportunity that I had to know a 13 year old boy named Marcelino. Marcelino was a different boy; he was gentle and kind, willing to share and help others, without the prodding of adults. It was natural to him, who he was.

Sure he was 13, so he had his moody days, but he was sick and not feeling well, so I couldn't blame him. Sometimes I would leave the hospital giggling at his little 'moods', asking Jon if he had been the same with him... usually yes. But I loved that boy, moods and all.

He started his time in Oncology so shy, embarrassed by the large tumor growing over eye. Jon set out, determined to get through to him. Through soccer and Jon's usual craziness, Marcelino was quickly won over. He even chose to join Jon's Bible study, though his dad was uninterested. I remember Jon telling me how well he read. I could see his admiration of Jon, the way he loved him and respected him. It was special to me.

One day there was a woman that was extremely sick, and I frantically wanted to get her some juice. She had requested a certain kind, and I didn't know where to go. Marcelino graciously walked me to the store across the street. He seemed a bit embarrassed to be walking with me, a white lady, and offered to wait outside while I went in the store. I smiled inside... tempted to grab his hand to make it more awkward. Ha! We chit chatted about life, what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said a doctor. I explained that it was difficult, but I thought he could do it; he was smart! I told him about Paul, Jon's brother, who is currently in pursuit of becoming a doctor.

I remember taking our first ultrasound picture of Anaya to the hospital. In his usual shy way, he didn't push to the front to see the picture like the other kids. He almost seemed uninterested... until he saw her. He couldn't hide his fascination. Each month we'd tell them what day we'd bring a new photo, and Marcelino would smile. Seeing her would automatically brighten his day, even on his moody days. Almost each visit he'd ask how she was doing, and I'd pat my belly and tell him she was growing. Marcelino loved my daughter. Today I'll write Anaya about him... tell her how before she was born she was impacting lives, and as Jon says, she is already changing the world.

Just two weeks ago, or so, Marcelino's mood turned, a little more permanently. His tumor had grown, what seemed like overnight. He had a few rough rounds of chemo. Jon and I would talk between ourselves about how he seemed depressed, and we tried figure out how to lift his spirits. Nothing seemed to work.

This past weekend Marcelino health took a turn for the worse. When I saw him on Monday I couldn't believe my eyes. How quickly death had come upon him. I climbed in bed with him, trying comfort him, to be close to him. In his pain, he had bit his tongue, causing a fairly steady flow of saliva and blood to flow out of his mouth. His breath screamed death... it was the same smell as Jose Manuel; Jon and I know that smell too well.

The past two nights ended in bed with many tears.

This boy, who had only one week before been playing outside, now lay unable to control any bodily functions, unable to swallow, unable to talk, to make sense. He would come in and out of delirium, suddenly reminded of his pain... crying out and moaning. His heart rate remained elevated, as if he were running, even in his sleep. At that point I knew his heart couldn't last long.

Rubbing his legs, I noticed the scars on his knees. I couldn't help but think what a normal boy this was. A boy with stories of his childhood, stories of falling, of being silly, of running with his brothers. So normal...

Running my hand over his hair, I prayed for a quick passing. I prayed for visions of Jesus' face, visions of heaven amidst his delirium. I prayed for God to look at him through the blood of Jesus, for God to save his soul. I prayed for the eyes of the Lord to look upon Marcelino and for Him to have mercy.

This morning at 6:45am, we got the phone call from his dad. Marcelino's suffering had ended. Jon and I laid in bed for a few moments, thanking the Lord, sighing in relief. And then we got up. We put on clothes, as our prayers and comfort shifted from Marcelino, to his grieving father.

After some time at the hospital, Jon and I drove home. We cried a bit, remembering our friend... for me, remembering his love for our daughter. We got home and made coffee, still talking about our time with him... the good moments and the horrific ones at the end.

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Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.

I choose thanks.

For Marcelino's life, for the opportunity to know him, for my hope in the redemptive power of Christ, for my husband who loves deeply, for my daughter, for our health, for my family, for friends, for support, for my home, for my bed, for worship music, and on and on...

Who does not like getting Christmas cards in the mail? And even better, a photo card filled with the lovely faces of your friends and family. I remember my Mom having a red weaved basket sitting near the front door, where each new arrival would go. I would check daily for new ones. Throughout the holiday I would look through the basket multiple times, sometimes skipping the ‘plain’ cards and hurrying to the colorful picture ones. How fun to watch kids grow and families age, year by year, all because of a little tradition we call the Christmas card. I love this time of year!

This year I am hoping to use http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery/photo-christmas-cards to order my cards. Living in Africa, it makes it easier that everything can be done online. (Can we have a ‘Hallelujah!’?) Currently there are hundreds of options and layouts to choose from, making it difficult for this indecisive girl. You can have one picture, two, three… five! You can have the traditional red and green, or throw in a fun mix of light snowy blue and other vibrant colors. And for those of you who are having a rough year… maybe a bad haircut or too many holiday sweets and want to pass of the photos, you can still enjoy the online convenience here: http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery . And for grandma and grandpa, who doesn’t enjoy the classic photo mug? Check those out here: http://www.shutterfly.com/photo-gifts/photo-mugs

Here’s to planning in November!

Well, 14 or so weeks until I meet my precious little girl. It still feels a little unreal to me. She is moving so much these days! A lot in the morning and at night. I cannot help but hold my belly when she moves; I love to feel her, even if it does make me look strange in public. Last night her aerobics were almost sickening; as if my tummy was doing flip flops on a roller coaster. I could feel all her little body parts pushing this way and that.

My tummy is taking over. Someone said to me the other day, "I feel like we should say, 'Hello Anaya!' since she is all out there." =)

Bending over is becoming more of a chore, usually accompanied by groans. Thankfully I can still paint my own toes, thanks to a bit of flexibility; however, Jon will be learning soon. I want pink toes for delivery. Ha!

I have gained right at about 16lb, which I am quite happy with.

I still try to exercise, though it doesn't happen as consistently as it should. Arm weights, crunches on the ball, and legs lifts/pilates stuff are included. As I near my due date and delivery, I want to be as physically ready as possible. Here's to more consistency!

We continue to pray over our sweet girl... for her future, her salvation, her soul. We love her so much! 100 days (or so) to wait to hold and kiss her. Yay!

Some days it seems like too much...

The lady whose tumor has taken over her neck and cheek, perhaps worse than I've ever seen. Her skin looks ready to burst, tight, shiny and red. There is no 'comfortable' for her. She cannot talk or eat. Because she cannot eat, she is starving. She is like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin and remnant of deflated breasts.

There is the lady whose legs are so swollen, I don't believe she can walk. She wants to sit, but her body doesn't have the strength, so she shakes until she falls over... and then sits up again. Her breathing is labored, as she comes in and out of sleeping, without much awareness. There is blood on the sheets, but I'm not sure from where. Her husband died two days ago, but no one has told her. They want to wait until she gets home, if she ever does.

Then there is the lady whose breast is now an open gaping wound, swollen and leaking, causing constant pain. No one in the hospital speaks her first language so she tries to communicate in Portuguese, leaving her quite confused and alone.

Moving to the men...

Marcelino, who is only 13, seems to have taken a turn for the worse. He moaned from stomach pains, and his tumor on his eye seems like it grew over the weekend. This was supposed to be his final treatment. His usual sweet face was so swollen.

And then there was the albino man who couldn't easily talk, but began crying loudly because of his pain. His wails could be heard down the halls.


That is only the worst of today. Like I said, some days seem like too much.

Lord come quickly.