Isn't she cold?

I was told early on in my pregnancy that unless I was prepared to outfit Selah from head to toe in the warmest clothing, in addition to 5 big fuzzy blankets, and a thick stocking cap, I would be chastised for allowing my baby to be cold. I thought surely this was an exaggeration, but the comments began straight away in the delivery room...

As soon as she was delivered, the nurse asked "Where is her hat?" Casey and I looked at each other not knowing what to say. We hadn't thought to bring one. The nurse seemed quite disappointed at this fact, but went ahead and wrapped Selah in a blanket. We assured her we would have a friend bring one as soon as possible.

Fortunately, a friend brought the hat quickly, which seemed to put the nursing staff at ease. 

The room we stayed in at the hospital was large, but unlike an American hospital, there is not a nursery where the babies sleep - so Selah shared our room. There was a small bed for me, a futon for Casey, and a plastic rolling basinet for Selah (although she mostly slept with me). The wall air condition unit (we call it an AirCon for short) was on the opposite side of the room as my bed, and while it managed to cool Casey's futon, it fell well short of reaching my bed. In January, temperatures are high and with Selah and my combined body heat, our room seemed sweltering. We both glistened from the heat.  

Many times the nurses would come in and see Selah in my arms, without her blanket. Each time, they would ask "Isn't she cold?" I explained that both of us were sweating, and I thought she was fine but they insisted she must be cold and I should wrap her in a thick blanket.

At one point, during the wee hours of the morning, the heat was too much and though I knew the nurses wouldn't approve, I finally did turn on a small fan attached to the wall next to my bed. I pointed it directly at my feet in a way that the breeze did not even touch Selah.  She was hungry and fussy because my milk was still working on coming in, and it would be polite to say we were all a little on edge (new parents, you've been there - sleep deprived, frustrated, unable to calm the screaming newborn in your arms). 

 A nurse came in to check on us, and upon observing my fan, immediately said "The baby is crying because she is cold." 

What?!? No, we are all HOT, not cold!! And she is crying because she is hungry - cold has NOTHING to do with it. After many times of being told she is cold despite the fact she was dripping with sweat, this was the last thing we wanted to hear. We supplemented her with formula, and low and behold she fell into a peaceful sleep.

Outside the hospital, things haven't changed much. All the guys Casey works with on the delivery truck were shocked and appalled when we brought her outside to meet them during our first week home. 

They exclaimed, "What, no..you can't bring her outside! Where is her blanket? Isn't she cold?"

Casey addressed this question by asking them, "Are you cold?"

They responded with "No, of course not."

"Then why would she be?"

After a bit of reflection on their part, "Hmmm, good point."

The question persisted when we took her to church at the Tree of Life Children's Village. All of the kids kept whispering to each other, "Isn't she cold? She must be cold!"

It followed me to Ngombe, where Rylee and I read to a large number of children that are not currently in school. They may not have felt bold enough to voice the question, but I could see the worry in their eyes as I introduced Selah to the crowd.

At first, this obsession with my "cold baby" seemed silly, and maybe a bit annoying...I mean, I am her mother and am quite capable to care for her. But my perspective has since changed. I've come to find out a number of things about babies in the Zambian culture. I've come to find out the why's behind these seemingly nonsensical traditions.  

Did you know while American couples tend to ponder baby names well before the little one arrives,  a Zambian child doesn't typically receive a name until they are 3 months old? Once again, this seemed absolutely absurd to me. How can you go that long without calling your baby by name?

But the sad fact is a large percentage of Zambian babies don't make it past 3 months old. Many times a mother won't even introduce her newborn to the community until after 3 months old because the chance of survival after that point is more likely.

As I look at Selah (who is now about 3 months old), I realize I have never once contemplated the possibility that she wouldn't still be around. The thought hasn't even entered my mind. I think about how beautiful she is, and how much I love her, and how I can't imagine life without her.  I am joyful as she learns to smile, and wait with anticipation for the other milestones I am confident she will reach. But for many Zambian mothers, the first few months are not always marked with such joy but rather with fear. Fear that at any moment this sweet blessing could be taken away.

This realization allows me to view the constant "Isn't she cold?" remarks less as irritating, and more as a genuine sign of concern for her well being. I see the efforts of the Zambian women to wrap their babies tightly, and protect them from the outside world for the first months of their lives and my heart goes out to them. While there are free clinics available to them, they are extremely overcrowded and do not offer the best care.  I try to imagine myself in their situations and am filled with compassion. At times I feel guilty that God allows them to face these struggles, and not me.

But I am frequently reminded that it is not my decision to make. God is sovereign, and challenges us each in many different ways - whether we live in the United States of America or Africa. Our struggles may not always look the same, but through these challenges, we are exposed to different aspects of the character of God... He is FAITHFUL, LOVING, GOOD, MIGHTY, COMPASSIONATE, TRUSTWORTHY, MERCIFUL. Through suffering we encounter God in a way that we otherwise would not. We find a need for something greater and outside of ourselves. And God is eager to meet our every need.

One thing I have found as true is that these women of Zambia are brave and strong, and I am fortunate to live in their midst. I enjoy learning from them and experiencing God with them.