Why ten-year-olds are brilliant (or, how to save yourself from birthday cake PTSD)

Every time I set out to make a birthday cake, I tell myself that *this time* I'm going to keep it simple.  Yet inevitably, by the time the balloons have lost their helium, there will be a heap of a mom somewhere in a corner, rocking in the fetal position, swearing that never again will she decorate a cake.  It has something to do with the artist in me that refuses to keep it simple.

I have found the solution:  The Big Sister.

She has a couple friends over.  Gets creative.  Cuts the center out of one of the birthday plates, squirts some frosting around the edges, and voila!  We have a Doc McStuffins cake!

Yes, I admit that the controlling, wants-every-birthday-cake-to-be-baby-book-perfect side of me has to be talked down and told to go lock itself in the closet.

But check out the birthday girl.  Does she look even one percent miffed that I did not spend 9 hours concocting perfection?  

Nope.  She was hardly even fazed when we discovered we forgot the candles.

Oh and one more bonus--now the cake matches the plates exactly!  Nobody even guessed the secret until we lifted the picture off to serve the delicious creation.

Fun Summer Activity (i.e. a new way to get injured)

Jump on the trampoline in your bathing suit (or undies, if you prefer) with scads of ice cubes.

 Just because.

Something good.

These two are equally serious about one of life's most important topics:

Ice cream.

Jude and his Great Granny Iris

Four More Lives

The time we spent in the "NICU" at Kibuye Hope Hospital made it hard to say good-bye.  In my last post, I told the story of the tiny set of twins that won the struggle without aid of incubators, nasogastric feeding tubes, or electric monitors.

Those aren't the only stories that need to be told.

That Monday I spent five hours helping feed and warm Francine's twins, there were 3 other mamas with their premature babies.  Another of the moms had twins also, so between the mothers there were 6 babies in that room.

Friday we got the report that the other set of twins was doing great, gaining weight, and had been sent home.

But the other two babies had died.

The mamas in these last two pictures now have empty arms.  

"When great trees fall in forests, small things recoil into silence."  
--Maya Angelou

One Drop at a Time

There is still so much about Burundi that is yet unprocessed, both in my computer files and my brain.  Almost three thousand photos swim around in disarray; how do I begin to categorize and organize and share? 

One of the experiences that is most deeply etched in my heart is that of my time spent with new mommas and their preemie babies in what here in the states we would call the NICU.  I loved being at the hospital in general, but I especially loved my time with these beautiful women. 

The day before we left Kibuye for Bujumbura, Eika and I accompanied Dr. Pfister as she delivered supplementary formula to Francine for her tiny twins.  The baby girls were a few days old, and the outlook was grim.  Weighing in between 2 and 3 pounds each, their little bodies couldn't stay warm.  They couldn't latch on to nurse, and it was hard to imagine the miracle it would take for them to thrive.

Eika and I couldn't say more than "Amahoro" (hello), but we sat down with the new mother and fawned over her fragile bundles.  I expected her to feed the babies right away, but she didn't.  After a little while I pointed to the bottle and the babies, and she got out the feeding syringe.  I held one baby while she tried to feed the other.  For almost five hours, we took turns holding and feeding.  During that whole time, the babies never woke up, never cried, never opened their mouths or sucked or squirmed.  It was constant work just to get them to swallow one single drop at a time.

The next day after we got packed up and ready to leave for Bujumbura, I walked back up to the hospital one last time.  I was scared to go in the room, envisioning that maybe only one of the twins had made it through the night.  But God's mercy is greater than our faith--they were both still breathing!  

Three days later the report came that they were both still alive.  After we came home, I continued to get reports from Dr. Pfister and Heather about their progress.  Two more weeks became a month, and they were gaining weight!

About a month after we got home from Burundi, we got the exciting news that the twins were doing well enough to be sent home!  

Proud mama Francine and her twins Mukuru and Butoyi

Sweet Anna Fader who sewed mattresses for the new incubators

Pediatrician Dr. Alyssa Pfister, overseeing the progress of these and so many other preemies at Kibuye Hope Hospital