As a show of appreciation for the manner in which others have cared for them since birth, hobbits give presents on their birthday rather than receiving presents. Brian and I have decided to incorporate that practice into our children’s birthday celebrations, so this year Ray and Willa’s friends brought books and toys that we’ll give to kids at the hospital. We still plan to celebrate their births with fun presents for them, but we want the act of giving to be integral to their birthday experience. And so our tradition of hobbit birthdays has begun.

Brian’s birthday comes right on the heels of Willa and Ray’s birthdays. I didn’t expect the hobbit birthday to extend to us, so I was surprised when he handed me an envelope labeled “Hobbit present.” It contained fake plane tickets and a brochure reading:

Come When You’re Tired Woman’s Retreat

One woman… just you.

Are you tired? Did you go on vacation, but didn’t really get a vacation? Then this retreat is for you. It’s just you. No other women except those you choose to talk to. No schedules to follow except your own. Come to a place where you can straighten your hair and watch as it magically stays straight, where you can run where you want in a straight line and not in circles around your family, where you won’t sweat… ever.

Come tired. Leave a little less tired.

For more information contact: brianparis@sittingnexttoyou

He’s sending me to Ukarumpa for a weekend getaway, while he stays here in Madang with the girls. I’ll alternately be spending time alone, and spending time with friends that know me better than perhaps I know myself. The kind of sister friends I’ve bathed with in jungle streams of varying muddiness, been pregnant with, battled abnormally large spiders in small spaces with, cried with, and can now unleash my mom troubles upon. It was so unexpected, and exactly what I’ve needed. Time away to reflect and decompress.

The morning after Brian gave me his hobbit gift, I woke up frustrated and angry (unfortunately my short wick didn’t magically disappear with the giving of his gift). We slept through our early morning alarm and, after a week of rainy mornings and missed runs, I thought I was going to miss yet another run. And so began the most challenging day I’ve experienced here in PNG, including the morning I fell into the outhouse.

We did run, but it was annoying. There were too many people inhibiting my circles, Jett was an energetic mess, and it was just plain hard. Mama Cissy was coming to clean that morning, so I had activities planned with the girls. Once she showed up I thought everything would settle down. Right away she complained of menstrual cramps and asked for some Tylenol. Woman to woman, I gladly gave her one. She seemed fine, little outwardly indicating that things were going wrong for her. By 10:45 we knew it was something more than just menstrual cramps because she was bleeding heavily, but it still didn’t seem to be an emergency. After talking to our neighbor (a nurse), we decided the best course of action was to send her straight home for rest, then have her return the next morning so I could take her to the same doctor that saw me while I was pregnant with Willa. We called and made an appointment for his Saturday morning hours.

Shortly after she left our house, the lady working in the flat downstairs came and got me. Mama Cissy had not made it out of the gate before the bleeding came in earnest. I brought her back into the bathroom so she could wash in the shower while we waited for Brian to come back from the office with the truck. Clearly, we needed to go to the hospital.

I was fairly certain she was having a miscarriage, and felt more confident when she showed me the “blood clots” coming, that certainly weren’t like any blood clots I’ve seen. Despite the drama of what was happening with her, I was internally dragging my feet about taking her to the hospital. I hate the hospital here so, so much. I desperately didn’t want to go alone and try to navigate that with her, but I knew there was no other way. I prayed both for forgiveness for my selfish fears, and for God to guide us to the right people. After some colorful conversations with a strange security guard and some frustrating interactions with the people out front, she got settled into the outpatient unit just fine. She was given more pain medication while we waited for her husband to arrive and for the doctor to confirm our suspicions.

Both of those things happened in due course. She was admitted to the hospital late in the afternoon on Friday and has been waiting for a D&C since. The opportunity for these kinds of procedures only happens on particular days, and the first available day was too busy. Her reaction to the miscarriage was much different than I expected, but also exactly what I expected. There were no tears shed in my presence. She was relieved because they have little food and little work, and little space in their lives for another child. She trusts God knows best and feels this was His mercy to both the child and to their struggling family.

If I didn’t need time away from Madang before Mama Cissy miscarried in our bathtub, I certainly do after. Standing up in the hot hospital room, holding the curtain shut so curious eyes wouldn’t inhibit Mama Cissy’s attempts at rest while fighting my own lack of courage and short rope, all conspired to watch me crash. But I didn’t because God had used Brian’s thoughtful and caring heart to strengthen my weak heart. Both knowing that the trip was coming and knowing that I have a husband that loves me in this way, bolstered me.

The trip will be about a week and I will most certainly miss my three. Regardless, I’m thrilled to get up to cool Ukarumpa where I can be still and know.

Prayers for Mama Cissy’s full recovery both physically and mentally are appreciated.