these days

287 days ago, Christian and I decided now was the right time to start a family. We both always knew we wanted children—it would be hard to live and work with 200 of them without loving them! When we got married, I told him I wanted him all to myself for one year, and then we could start our family, whether biologically or through adoption. It was a wonderful year of childless marriage (well, at least not with our own children), and then we were ready for the next stage.

248 days ago, God quickly answered our prayers and I became pregnant. We just didn’t know it yet.

211 days ago, I caved and took a pregnancy test. I had told myself I would not get overly hopeful and take one until I threw up, but the fact that I could come home from work at lunchtime and fall asleep before making food was a red flag that something was up. (I hate naps.) That double line was so beautiful to me. 

I wrote a note telling Christian that he was the world’s best father and taped it on the bathroom mirror, somewhere I assumed he would see almost as soon as he got home. Just to make sure, I brought him a cup of water while he was working in the office, claiming I cared about his hydration (in general, I do). When he came home, he was so nice that he wanted to sit on the couch with me and let me read to him in Dutch for an hour, which is normally such a blessing but this time made me a little anxious. When he finally used the bathroom, he walked out with this goofy smile on his face. “Really?” he whispered. I nodded. We hugged. We had a family. 

210 days ago, I took a second pregnancy test just to make sure. Still positive!

208 days ago, baby and I had our first ballet presentation in church. I had been teaching 25 6-year-olds for the past few weeks and we were finally showing everyone the dance on which they had been working. Little did I know that would be the first of many ballet presentations with a baby inside.

197 days ago, we told Christian’s parents the wonderful news. After debating how we were going to share it with the new grandparents, we found books online called “I Love You, Grandma” and “I Love You, Grandpa” in both Dutch and English. We ordered copies for each of our parents and had them sent to their houses with strict instructions not to open anything until we told them to do so.

While Skyping with Christian’s family, we finally gave them permission to open theirs. They were thrilled, though not surprised. Apparently when a one-year-married couple clearly has a secret—and a good secret at that—there are not so many options as to what it can be.

196 days ago, we Skyped with my parents and repeated the routine. My mom’s face was the best. Wide eyes, open mouth, and not a word for quite some time (which is unusual for her when we are Skyping). She did not look as thrilled when she asked if she could tell my grandma and we said no, but in time she forgave us for that.

192 days ago, after a few weeks of almost-round-the-clock nausea, I woke up feeling fine. It was my birthday and I took it as a special birthday present from God that I could happily and easily eat the wonderful dinner Christian had prepared for me.

193 days ago, I woke up feeling fine again. This time, it send me into a panic. What if something had gone wrong? I knew miscarriages were common and that one sign is simply losing any pregnancy symptoms. Christian and I went to the clinic at Noah’s Ark, but that early in a pregnancy they could not confirm anything. We immediately went into Mukono and asked for an ultrasound from a clinic there… and that was the first time we saw our baby. It was a smudge, and admittedly a different smudge than I thought when I looked at the screen, but a beautiful white smudge nonetheless, complete with a heartbeat.

181 days ago, we received our first baby presents. Immediately after we shared the news with Christian’s family, his mother had already started shopping for her first grandchild. There were pink and blue bubbles, pink and blue candies, tiny baby clothes and tiny baby shoes, but the best part was a pregnancy book—the kind we get to fill in week by week to document how the pregnancy is going. It is called the Negen Maandenboek (Nine Month Book) and we started filling it in and taking weekly belly photos as soon as we could. We are so excited to show it to our baby someday and prove that he or she was wanted and loved from the very beginning.

167 days ago, we went in for a second ultrasound just for fun. We went to Mukono again because the Ultrasound Guy (or the Scan Man) only comes to Noah’s Ark on Saturday mornings, and the whole compound knows that if someone goes to the clinic on a Saturday morning and does not have an emergency, then she must be there for an ultrasound. We were not yet ready to share the news with everyone, so we went back to the clinic where we did the first one because we wanted a nice ultrasound photo to show my family when we went on vacation the next week. 

In preparation, I drank a whole lot of water. In adherence to Ugandan culture, the ultrasound man was an hour late. And then he got to poke and prod around my bladder for awhile. It was agony, but it was worth it. This time our smudge was peanut-shaped!

163 days ago, we brought baby Norton (named years ago by Annie) to America for the first time. We spent an exciting nine-hour layover exploring New York City, managing to hit the top of the Empire State Building, Times Square, and Central Park before heading back to the airport for the last leg of our two-day journey from Uganda to Washington.

161 days ago, on the first evening of our Peterson family reunion in Oregon, my mom had the privilege (or the task?) of telling everyone about her newest grandchild. I was supposed to do it but couldn’t find a way to casually bring it up, so she saved the day. Everyone is looking forward to having young children in the family again, considering the next youngest is already 16 years old.

155 days ago, on the last day of the family reunion, Jen got out her doppler and we got to hear the heartbeat much more clearly than we had before. There are definitely benefits to having a midwife/nurse sister.

133 days ago, Norbert (the name changed because my mom couldn’t remember Norton) experienced its first Loggers’ Jubilee. Actually, so did Christian. We made sure to hit everything—coronation, lawnmower races, logging shows, bed races, parade. It was a fun-filled weekend, even with the rain shower during the parade.

132 days ago, Norbert and I ran our first race together! In that Jubilee 10k, my main goal was to make it through the whole thing without wetting my pants. (My pregnant or have-been-pregnant friends, you get it.) It was a success! And to top it off I/we placed third in my age group. That was enough to convince me to sign up for a race the following month in Uganda.

129 days ago, Christian and I were sitting on the airplane in Dubai, waiting to take off for the last part of our trip back to Uganda. After a 14-hour plane ride to Duabi and a 14-hour layover in the airport, we had been sitting on the hot, stuffy plane for two hours and were still on the ground. But that stillness was exactly what I needed because that was the first time I felt our baby move. It was strange, and different, and absolutely wonderful. I sat there in my rough, blue airplane seat with my eyes closed and a tear rolling down my cheek. Magical.

124 days ago, we were in our first church service since returning from the U.S. We came forward during testimony time and Christian thanked God for our good trip and safe travels. Then he continued: “We know every time we come back you tell us we have grown fat, and that is true. Today I thank God that I came back with a big stomach because I ate a lot of nice food, and I thank God that Auntie Katie came back with a big stomach because she is four months pregnant with our child.” This was followed by a full minute of cheering. I am not exaggerating. 

122 days ago, we had our first visit with the midwife at Noah’s Ark. After reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting, which is written for women in America who are going to deliver in a hospital, our checkup seemed pretty minimal, but that was okay with us. We both had some blood tests, they checked my weight and fundal height, and I took some anti-malarial pills since the normal treatment for malaria is harmful to a fetus. All in all, everything looked good and we were pleased.

121 days ago, Christian felt Norbert move for the first time. At only 18 weeks along, that was an earlier-than-expected blessing.

117 days ago, we made the announcement public by putting news of this new baby on Facebook. It was fun to have a secret for awhile, but it was also a joy to see how many people are excited about this little life.

96 days ago, Norbert and I performed in our second ballet presentation together. My belly was getting a bit more visible by then.

92 days ago, we bought plane tickets to come to the Netherlands for the delivery. If we knew everything was going to go well, we would have stayed in Uganda. However, Uganda has no NICU and it is hard to get blood if I were to lose a lot. After seeing what a big difference it made to go to Seattle for my burns a few years back, we decided to play it safe and deliver outside of Uganda, just in case. Our hope is that things will go smoothly and we will look back and say, “We should have just stayed at Noah’s Ark!”

89 days ago, Norbert and I ran in our second race: the Source of the Nile 12k in Jinja. My goal this race was to finish before my iPod died, and again we succeeded! We also came in 14th, which at 23 weeks pregnant isn’t so bad I think.

68 days ago, Christian’s family and homefront committee (our missionary support group in the Netherlands) did a bib/diaper/baby-towel-and-other-things-we-need drive at their church and raised enough money to pay for most of our basic baby supplies. We are so blessed!

43 days ago, Oma Janneke and Opa Aat came to visit us in Uganda and got to see my ever-growing stomach and feel Norbert move. Good thing we have such an active baby!

21 days ago, Norbert and I performed in our last ballet presentation in the Noah’s Ark school Christmas Carols. We did one very simple dance with 20 4-year-olds, and then had to fill in for one of the teenagers in another dance. The aunties told me later that I scared them when I had to jump up on a chair onstage for some of the moves, but it all went well. Seeing a very pregnant ballet dancer was a new experience for everyone there.

9 days ago, we had our last day of work before leaving Uganda. I spent half the day organizing puzzles for the library and was not at all sad to be finished with that. We wanted to reserve our last few days at home for preparing the house and packing.

8 days ago, we spent the day in Kampala for two important reasons:  One, we picked up Christian’s new work permit, allowing us to stay in Uganda another three years (woohoo!). Two, we bought a crib! From the side of the road. It’s not quite up to Schinnell standards, but we think it’s beautiful, and we have already tested it with a five-year-old to make sure it will work for Norbert for quite a while.

7 days ago, we spent the whole day clearing things out of the not-so-spare room to make space for baby stuff. We managed to reassemble the crib all by ourselves, find out-of-the-house places for too many work supplies we had been keeping at home, and organize all the toys the other children use when they visit. After that, we felt much better about leaving soon and knowing we are coming back with a new family member.

6 days ago, we took advantage of our last few days in African weather and did a maternity photo shoot. For fun, we brought down four-year-old Janet, who kissed my belly about 80 times in that hour.

5 days ago, we went to our last Noah’s Ark church service before leaving. At the end of the service they called Christian and I forward to pray over us, our journey, the delivery and the baby. The children came and laid hands on us—nine-year-old Levi came forward and confidently smacked his hand right in the middle of my forehead. It was all done in love.

4 days ago, we woke up in our Uganda house for the last time with just the two of us. It is still hard to believe that everything is going to change so much. However, I remember thinking the same thing before getting married and I haven’t regretted that for one moment. We said too many and yet not enough good-byes as we left Noah’s Ark for what we hope will not be more than three months, and ended the day by boarding the plane. 

3 days ago, we arrived in the Netherlands to a family who has done even more to prepare for this baby than we have. While trying to stay awake after a night in the airplane, we unpacked our suitcases in “our” new apartment, took the bikes out for a test ride (fortunately being pregnant does not make that any more difficult), and to celebrate being in the western world I of course ate a salad.

2 days ago, we had our first appointment with the Dutch midwife. The ultrasound showed that Norbert is already in a good position for birth and should not shift before then. We discussed what still needs to be done in order to get things ready for a home birth, and as long as no complications arise in the next month, it should all go as planned. But of course you never know with things like this.

Today I am sitting on the couch, watching this little life move around in my abdomen and thinking about how I am going to miss feeling those movements so distinctly. At the same time, I am so excited to see its arms and legs and head and actually hold those tiny fingers and look into those eyes. And to know whether we have a son or a daughter! We still have a month more, but for now I am going to cherish this time of having our baby all to myself.

13 days until our next appointment with the midwife. 

16 days until we need to raise our bed and finish final preparations for a home birth. 

30 days until Norbert’s due date.

37 days until our second anniversary. Will we be parents by then? 

Where have the days gone? It feels like a lifetime ago that I was sitting on the couch waiting for Christian to read that note, yet at the same time I feel like this pregnancy has gone so fast I can’t believe it is almost over. These days have been blessed, and exciting, and nerve-racking, and stressful, and joyful, and sometimes uncomfortable, but I thank God for every single one of these days that our child has been alive and well. We will see you soon, little one! 

Isaac

I have said it before and I will say it again: I actually pity the parents of our Noah’s Ark children who threw their kids away and never get to see and know the amazing boys and girls to whom they gave birth. They thought they were giving up someone worthless, but that is only because they miss every goofy smile, every new word she can read, every dance presentation in church and every tower he builds to knock down. We are the privileged ones. We get to see these beautiful and hilarious and valuable children day in and day out. And I will tell you, they are some of the most awesome people on the planet. I’d like to introduce you to a particularly awesome boy of mine—Isaac. 

Isaac was found in 2010 on the street in a village outside Kampala. He was only six months old, give or take (Noah’s Ark almost always has to estimate a child’s age when he comes into the system because there is no one to tell us exactly how old he is, or even who he is and what his name is). He was healthy and seemed to be well cared for, but no one was able to trace him to a family or any relatives. He was given the name Isaac and though the first six months of his life remain a mystery, the following eight years he has lived happily at Noah’s Ark with all of his brothers and sisters who have similar stories.

I first remember meeting Isaac after I had been here about six months. It was December and we were at the beginning of our long holiday from school. I had taken a bunch of four-year-olds to church for an activity, and as usual we started with attendance. Even after being there for months I was still learning many names (there are about two hundred children, after all, not counting the ones who come from the community for school). We finished attendance and I asked if I had missed anyone. One small boy with crooked teeth and red eyes raised his hand. 

“What is your name?” I asked. 

“Isaac,” he said with a smile. He looked proud of it. 

I checked my list—no Isaac listed anywhere. “Is your mom an auntie?” Sometimes the aunties’ children also join the program and we don’t always have them on record at the beginning. He shook his head. “You live in the children’s home?” He nodded, still with a big smile. He was young and I didn’t know how well he understood what I was saying. Plus I did not recognize him at all. But I listened and added him to the list. 

In the coming two months I was privileged to spend more time with Isaac and his group of classmates. Turns out he was right—he did live in the home—and we had just missed him on our list. I made a point of saying his name every time I saw him so he knew I wouldn’t forget who he was after that (and because I was feeling a little bit guilty for not recognizing that he was even from the home). It wasn’t too long before he also sought me out, and we became buddies. 

For several months he had the tradition of visiting me on Saturday mornings before breakfast. The children wake up at 6:30 but don’t eat until 8:00, so he always had some time to kill. We would sit on my front step and point out all the colors we could see. Sometimes I got out different colored bottle caps and made him put them in a pattern or count them. It wasn’t until about a year ago that he could consistently remember the number seventeen. He could easily fit on my lap and didn’t mind when I gave him a big kiss on the cheek. 

In 2015 when he was in top class (the highest level of nursery school, equivalent to kindergarten) I went to his school on visitation day. Once every term the school holds a day for all parents to come meet the teachers and check on their children’s progress. It’s basically open house and parent-teacher conferences combined. Of course, on a compound like this with over one hundred schoolchildren and two official parental figures, things are a bit unconventional. I usually go to the school and see which children want me to check their work and talk with their teacher, and it is always an honor to do so. 

That day when I reached nursery school, a flying ball of energy gave a giant leap and literally wrapped himself around my legs, his arms and legs clinging to me so he was not touching the ground. “My parent!” he exclaimed. My heart melted. I was so happy to be his parent. 

Later that year, Isaac was struggling in school. He has a short attention span and wasn’t keeping up with the rest of his class. The special needs teacher was considering adding him to her program, but she already had more students than she could effectively handle. Instead, knowing Isaac and I were close, she asked me to step in. As motivation to do well in class, every Friday I came to his classroom and looked through his work from that week to see how he was doing. It was less seeing if he was performing well and more seeing if he was concentrating well enough to actually complete his work. When there was time we also worked on reading and math, with which he had been struggling. It was a fun time to sit down and give him individual attention, and for most of the year the motivation worked for him. It probably also helped that on weeks when he did well, after school I took him to the canteen (a small snack-and-basic-supplies shop on the compound) to get a treat. 

One Friday he chose a bottle of soda from the canteen. I wasn’t watching very closely as we walked back to my house, but apparently he was swinging his arms a lot because as soon as he sat down on my couch and opened his soda I heard that hissing and spraying noise that meant there would be a lot of cleaning up to do. It exploded all over him, my couch, my floor… 

The next week, he chose a doughnut. I noticed as we left the canteen that he was holding it in both hands, carefully and steadily in front of him. About halfway home, he said, “Auntie Katie, I’m not going to shake my doughnut.” And you know what? His doughnut never exploded. 

I love that kid. And I have never revealed to him that not all food explodes, because it seems good sense to just be careful with all food. 

Isaac is one of the most resourceful people I have ever met. Most of the children love Christmas day because they get new presents—toys, dolls, jewelry, bubbles, and the like. However, with no personal space except for their beds, most of the kids’ presents get broken or stolen or disappear within a matter of days or weeks. 

That is when Isaac moves in. He can find something broken and imagine up a brand new purpose for it. Take, for example, the burst beach ball that he wore as a hat for several days:

Or the stick and plastic bag that was an umbrella: 

Or his banana leaf guitar: 

Or his paint-bucket-lid shield: 

I love seeing how his mind works. He is not limited by what is; he sees what is possible. If only we, especially as adults, could all do that!

One day while playing at my house, Isaac put on a blanket as a cape and declared that he was a superhero. 

“Wow, that’s great!” I said. “What is your superhero name?” 

He pondered, “The… the… the woman!” Who doesn’t love a kid who calls women superheroes? 

The children all celebrate their birthdays in the children’s home. They get a cake, some presents, and all the children in the home sing to them while the birthday person sits a bit awkwardly in front of everyone. All children look forward to this celebration, but with over one hundred kids in the home, they celebrate multiple birthdays every week, so after time the festivities tend to lose their flare. For some of the children closer to us, Christian and I like to do something extra to make their birthday special. Last December, for Isaac’s eighth birthday, I gave him the choice of having a party with some friends at our house or going to Mukono (the nearest town) for lunch in a restaurant with one friend. Wisely, he chose the restaurant, since the kids don’t get to leave the compound very much and almost never see town. 

His birthday was on Saturday, so we moved out with Isaac and his friend, Jesse, for a day in town. We walked the half mile to the main road, during which Isaac narrated everything he saw on the way. We took a taxi (basically a bus system that uses 14-passenger vans) into Mukono and sat down at our favorite simple restaurant. Here, most small restaurants use stock photos in their menus, so what you can see is not actually what is offered. I told that to Isaac, but he still pointed to four or five different pictures before I finally asked if he just wanted chicken and he said yes. 

I had not considered what it would be like to eat in a restaurant with someone who had never eaten in a restaurant before. When other people went for the local food lunch buffet, Isaac kept asking, “Why can’t we eat now? They are eating—can’t we also get food? I’m hungry and food is right there!” And after our meal he got a toothpick, used it, and put it back in the container. At least he was trying to clean up after himself. 

We love being able to treat kids to new experiences, and sometimes it is so simple. 

Isaac is a special boy. He is not one of the children who flocks around every new volunteer—most of them never get to know his name. He is third last in second grade, has been held back a year, and struggles in school. He’s just starting to grow old enough to be “too cool” for things. He and his best friend, Noah, are great at creating mischief and getting into trouble. He is growing like a weed. He can run farther than some teenagers I know. And every time he leaves my house he asks for three things: a hug, a high five, and a kiss. It is a simple routine, and one I know he will soon outgrow, but for now I choose to cherish it… and him. 

all dressed up for our wedding

first time in a big swimming pool

how I want to be

I have a friend. His name is Hosea. 

Hosea has been my friend for years now, but last week we became best friends. Want to know how? 

I let him hold a piece of string. 

No kidding. That was it. 

You see, last week during the holiday program I had some free time from leading and planning, so I decided to start putting up some of the kids’ crafts in the children’s home so they could admire their own handiwork. It would have been a simple task on my own, but I am trying to get more intentional about discipleship and inviting others into the everyday teachable moments, so I passed by the school to find a helper. Seven-year-old Hosea was the first one to catch my eye. 

“Do you want to help me with something at my house?” I asked. He nodded his head enthusiastically (as they always do), took my hand, and we set off. 

The decoration process was very simple. We measured a string so it would fit between two pillars in the children’s home, then took it to my house and got out paper aliens to string. (We had a space theme this holiday so I have literally hundreds of aliens hanging out in my spare room right now. It’s awesome.) I would put the string through one alien, then hand the end of the string to Hosea. He would keep it taught until I had slid the alien to the other end, and then he let go at just the right moment so I could tie a knot. Once the knot was tied, he scrambled to find the end again and we repeated the process. 

We did this for an hour, no joke. And actually, it was more helpful to have him there than to do it by myself. 

When we finally strung all the aliens that would fit, he ran to get Christian from the office and the three of us carried the artwork to the home and hung it up. We repeated the whole process once more, and that was the end of it. 

The next day when I went down to school, I saw out of the corner of my eye a rapid movement. Turning just in time, I found Hosea sprinting toward me and then he smacked into my legs, wrapping his short arms around my waist and giving me the biggest hug he could muster. These kids know how to melt your heart, I tell you. He stayed by my side as long as I let him. 

Now, every day when he sees me, he drops whatever he is doing and runs straight for me, arms outstretched, smile wide. Even today at school, as soon as I appeared at the end of lunch break, he came running across the field. It was nearing time for class so in an effort to get him and a classmate to go to their classroom, I told them to race each other. He sped off again, about fifty yards to the door of his classroom. He won. I clapped from a distance, but when he realized they had still not rung the bell for class, he made the run again and came back to my arms until it really was time to go. 

For the past week, if I don’t find Hosea at school or at the children’s home, he will find me at my house first. He walks across the verandah as if he is just passing by, but as soon as he catches my eye he giggles and is immediately sitting in the open doorway, content just to be there, or to read books if I take too long to get ready.

Sometimes Hosea shows his faith in me (or demonstrates his lack of forethought) when he jumps into my arms unexpectedly. No warning, no hesitation, just a run and a jump. What trust. 

That. All of that is how I want to be with God. 

As soon as I get a glimpse of Him, even in the distance, I want to run full speed into His arms. I want to race toward Him, arms outstretched and smile wide. I want to jump into His embrace, not hesitating to see if He is really paying attention or asking if He will catch me this time, but with an unwavering and uncomplicated trust that He will catch me. Again. And again and again and again. 

For an answer Jesus called over a child, whom he stood in the middle of the room, and said, “I’m telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you’re not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God’s kingdom. What’s more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it’s the same as receiving me.” (Matthew 18:2-5, The Message)