What Was it Like to Have a Baby in Africa? Part One

I get asked this question a lot. Frankly, I have no idea how to respond, at least in oral conversation. How do I explain what it was like, in a five minute conversation with someone? How much do you want to know? What details should I share? I don't blame people for asking; I'm glad that they're interested in my life. But I usually don't know what to say, so I respond, "Fine."

Part One: Why would you do that?

The real question people probably want to know is, Why on earth would you choose to have your baby in Africa? That's what I'm going to answer in this blog post. I want to share with you the circumstances leading up to that decision.

Bill and I had been trying to have a baby for two years. That doesn't sound like a long time, looking back. But it seemed like an eternity, when I was looking at it month by month. It's not helpful to learn the statistic that 85% of couples who are trying to conceive succeed in the first year. It's not helpful to know that after a year of trying, a person is considered infertile. It was a frustrating time for me, as I spent a lot of money on pregnancy tests that turned out to be negative. My irregular cycle, along with our irregular life of living on the road for deputation, were sources of frustration. The only thing that was regular was the time I spent in tears when I found out each month that I wasn't pregnant.

Why was it such a big deal to me, when I was still so young? I like kids, and I was looking forward to having a family of my own. I had quit my job to join with Bill on deputation, and at times we were incredibly busy, while other times I felt like I wasn't doing anything. I wanted to feel like I had more of a purpose. Bill would add in here, "Of course you had a purpose! You played a big part in helping us get to the field!" But when you travel on deputation and a long time goes by before any support is raised, it's easy to feel useless. Working out of the home, with my husband, was not my ideal job. At least with kids, I could feel like I had something important to do, every day. This was all part of it, but alone it wasn't enough to spur on my intense desire to have kids right away.

The real reason I wanted to get pregnant right away is that I didn't want to have my first baby in Africa. We were on the road to Africa, raising funds. It was difficult to say how long that would take, but we both figured that it was a good idea to have the baby while we were on deputation instead of during our first term on the field. I was willing to have future babies in Africa--after all, my dad was born in Kenya in the 50s, and other missionaries have babies overseas. I knew it could be done. But it seemed that the first baby would be the hardest, the one with the most risk attached, and I wanted to have it before we left. Somehow, we thought we could "plan" or "control" the birth. Nowadays it seems like it's supposed to be our responsibility to plan when we have kids, and how many we have. People think that if you have "too many" kids, or you have them at a time when you're not financially stable, you're somehow being irresponsible. (I don't share their sentiments.) But for some of us, God reminds us through circumstances that He's more in control than we think.

We were in language school In Quebec, preparing for Africa by learning French. We had raised all of our support, but a large portion of it was on shaky ground. We just had to wait and see if that support would stabilize and we would be ready to make definite plans. That answer came very suddenly. The support was promised to remain stable for at least the first term on the field, and we were given the go-ahead by our mission to buy plane tickets for July. We were excited! We could pick a date, buy the tickets, and be on our way to Africa in a few months! We called my parents and let them know the news. This was truly an answer to prayer.

At this time, there was something in the back of my mind that I didn't want to share with my parents yet. My period was late again. This had happened so many times before, and I had been let down so many times, that I didn't want to entertain the possibility of a baby. But it was getting to the point where I ought to check, so the next day I went to town and bought a pregnancy test. I intended to wait until the next morning to take it, but my emotions wouldn't let me. As soon as I got home that afternoon, even though Bill was out of the house, I went ahead and took the test. Instant results. Pregnant!

I am not usually a very emotional person, but the feelings rushed over me like a flood. I screamed. I jumped up and down. I said, "Oh, God!"--which, by the way, was not swearing, because I really was talking to Him. I took a picture of the test, fearful that the results would somehow change and I wouldn't be able to prove that I really was pregnant (also to remind myself later, in case I wouldn't believe myself. Which I didn't, at times; during those first few weeks it's hard to feel pregnant.) Then I went to find Bill.

Bill was sitting at the computer in the student lounge, surrounded by other people. I sat down, heart pounding, hoping people would leave soon. I didn't want to give anything away until I had a chance to talk to Bill privately. Fortunately it was almost time for dinner, and the lounge cleared out quickly. Then I told Bill. I was half afraid that he would be a little worried, since we had just made plans for Africa. But his first reaction was one of real joy. It was a wonderful time to share with my husband. After a while he did bring up something we had to address: "What do we do now? Do we still go to Africa?"

By the time Bill asked that question, my mind was made up. I don't usually feel that God is giving me clear, specific instructions, but I did on that day. Through my whole body, I felt that the answer was yes. No question. I felt that this entire two year struggle to get pregnant was being revealed as a test of my faith. Could I trust God to be faithful, to care for my needs and my baby, if I chose to follow Him? I did not have direct revelation that my baby would be born alive and healthy. I didn't know what God had in store for us. But I was convinced that God was asking me to trust Him. Why else would God have waited, after all this time and planning, until the exact day after our African plans had been established to show that my prayer for a baby had been answered? At the beginning, I had not been willing to trust that God could care for me if I became pregnant in Africa. But at this point, I saw that God was able to take care of the situation, no matter where I was. It would not be difficult for Him. As I said, I didn't know if He would choose to give me a healthy baby. But I had to trust that He could, and step out in faith to do what He wanted me to do.

I knew that I would need this kind of faith if I was ever going to make it as a missionary. If I had my first baby in the States, chances are that I would be faced with other pregnancies while on the field. The decision to trust would have to be faced sometime. Even if I had all of my babies in the States, I would still have to face the decision to trust God to take care of my children's health, in a very dangerous part of the world. West Africa is not safe. 3,000 African children die every day from malaria. The travel health book we picked up from Borders had a section about taking children to Africa. Their advice? Don't. Don't take your kids on a trip to a malaria-infested place. It is difficult to research which kind of malaria prevention medicine (none of which is completely effective) is safe for very young children. Yet here we were, planning to live for many years--possibly the next 18 years of our children's lives--in this place. We'd be faced not only with malaria, but other diseases, infections, poisonous snakes and scorpions, and poor medical treatment. It is one thing to put our own lives into God's hands, but trust Him as well with the lives of our children? Not easy. But the Africans we sought to minister to faced these dangers every day. They saw death more closely and frequently than many Americans do, and for the majority of them, they had no hope in a loving and powerful God. They had no hope of eternity, as we have. Would I choose to place my trust in money and American health care, or in God?

Our God is powerful. I knew He could protect my baby, no matter where I was, if He chose to. And if for some reason He took my child home to heaven, I knew that I would still need to trust and love Him, and go where He called me to go. I knew that God promises not to give us more trouble than we are able to bear, so I trusted Him to either not give me the burden of losing a child, or to help me to bear it.

What was the result? Paul. I tremble as I write that word. That name is connected to a little boy who is so full of affection, sweetness, intelligence, curiosity, and humor that he brings me constant joy. I knew I liked kids before I had one, but I had no idea how strong a mother's love can be. God has blessed us with two wonderful, healthy children. Each of them has faced physical dangers in Africa, but God has rescued them and allowed us to continue to cherish and nurture them.

This is my story. It's not meant to be advice for anyone, missionary or otherwise. God doesn't intend for everyone to face the same decisions, or even when faced with the same decision, to make the same choice. Paul was the only child I gave birth to in Africa, and although the experience was not bad (as you can read about in "Part Two"), most likely he will be the only one of my children to be born in Africa. Many missionaries are able to set up their times of childbirth to happen while in the States, and this is perfectly fine. God does give us a measure of control in our lives, and He wants us to make wise choices that will be right for our families. Many times my family has made decisions that seem more practical than spiritual, but as long as we take it before the Lord in honest prayer and willingness to do what He wants, we are still doing the right thing. Going against our God-given wisdom in an attempt to be spiritual is not what God wants; "more dangerous" does not mean "more godly." But I am convinced that at that time in my life, God was at work in my heart in a special way. I needed to trust God. I needed to face that battle--a giant or dragon in my life, if you can picture it, before I ever set foot on the mission field. If you are faced with a similar situation--a test to trust God--I can assure you, from experience, that you will be glad you decided to trust God. He is always faithful.