I Had a Baby in Africa

On their special day, we lay in bed and tell their birth story, almost as if we’ve never heard it before. We remember the same details and giggle at the same parts. Our Tessa has a special story. It’s one we recall with such fondness because so many of us actually remember it. We experienced her as a family, in a place where we had learned to cling to one another, and the memories are every bit sweet. Having a baby in Uganda was never on my bucket list, but I’m so glad it was on the one God wrote for me.  My prior labor and deliveries were in an American hospital surrounded by my family — all my family. Not just Mark, but my mom, dad, brother, sister, brother-in-law, niece and friends in and out for the whole thing. I remember at one point the doctor asking us if we wanted him to bring in bleachers. After witnessing my sister deliver her first child, I decided birth was the most magical thing ever and should be witnessed by anyone who has the slightest desire! Sharing those moments with my loved ones was so special, and the thought of delivering a baby in Uganda without them circled around me was sad. Also, we had just lost our teammate and friend to the dangerous Ugandan roads. Africa had been stealing lives for as long as her history….but suddenly {to my eyes} it became a place where missionaries die too. Everything in me wanted to scoop up my treasures and flee. But God’s peace washed over me, and after extended time in the States for our friend’s funeral, I took my swollen belly back to Uganda, trusting God would deliver life into a time of loss and grieving. So this morning in my bed, we remembered August 18th, seven years ago. And we laughed at how we stopped for a big breakfast in the city while contractions were increasing in strength and frequency. And we shook our heads at the bumps and deep pits in the road that Mark had to gingerly avoid on my behalf. And we remembered how before we took that two hour drive, our family of five piled into bed together at 4:30am to savor the last moments of “just us.” And how we wondered what she would look like. And how she would change us. You see, the five of us had shared a lot together by that point. We had moved away from home and family together. We had discovered Uganda together. We had been re-created together {by God} in our shared journey of adoption and cross cultural living. We — the five of us — were the Manry’s, and it was hard to imagine welcoming another person to become one of us. She wouldn’t know our stories and everything we had shared up to that point. She wouldn’t know America and everyone we missed and loved. She would be separated in years from the other children – not far, but farther than we had known before. And then she came. All plump and pink and perfect. And it was like she had always been a part of us. Like God had written her into our family long before, and we were only just meeting her. Receiving this darling baby was the divine fullness of all the life God birthed in our family through Uganda. She was the blessing of our faith, the fruit of our labor. And her birth opened our hearts to receive more. It’s unsettling to have anything {or anyone} interupt your normal, change what you know, re-create who you are. It takes a lot of grace to welcome change. But we’re so glad we did. She interrupted our life with laughter and little girl drama. She taught our family how to bind wholeheartedly to Ugandans, how to receive them as family. And this, I believe, is how Myles was conceived in our hearts. From her love, from her open heart. For a love like this is contagious. When you see it, you want to imitate it. When you receive it, you want to give it. When you give it, you can’t wait to give more. I pray our family always welcomes what God has already written into our story, but we’ve yet to experience. May we ever be welcoming new life and new realities with grace and hope.