Baby’s (second) First Christmas

December 25 snuck up on us this year. We enjoyed a wonderful celebration just before we left California with my family. Our holiday schedule: Thanksgiving on Thursday, get ready for Christmas on Friday, celebrate Christmas on Saturday. Dietrich wore his first-Christmas bibs. Christmas happened.

We arrived here, we got busy, and all of a sudden it was December 23, and we were without a tree. Our holiday schedule: Buy tree on Saturday, decorate tree on Sunday, open presents under tree on Monday. We bought our little tree when it was already dark outside, otherwise we wouldn’t have picked one with slightly yellow needles. But he’s a charming little guy for the $12 we spent on him.



Dietrich got some cool puppets from his grandma Cindy.

Sunday also included an all-day church celebration (most of which I spent in the hallway, trying to protect Dietrich from the poking, germy fingers of the 50 or so kids who performed in church), and Monday was meant to include take-out from our favorite restaurant, but strange weather coupled with Eric’s impending sore throat canceled those plans. We did enjoy chili from our favorite freezer, however.

My favorite Christmas moments were the two phone calls that bookended our day. My parents, brother and sister-in-law called on American Christmas Eve, which is Christmas morning for us. What a delight it was to hear their voices and to know that, though we were missed, the Miller household still celebrated a joyful Christmas. The end of the day brought a call from Eric’s parents, who also sent us a package of goodies that arrived that evening. How fun to know that ahead of them lay a whole day of remembering Christ’s coming, even as we wrapped up our day of remembrance.

Another highlight was Sunday night, when I asked Eric to read me the birth narrative out of Luke. I keep asking him to pause while I reflected; for the first time this year, I felt like I could (in a very small way) begin to understand the story from Mary and Joseph’s perspectives. I’ve delivered a baby boy. I’ve wrapped him in strips of cloth, a.k.a. blankets from Target. I treasure those memories in my heart.

Still, I wonder: Did Mary have a girlfriend who gave her the inside scoop on what to expect during delivery? Maybe John's mom, Elizabeth, played the role of experienced friend? Were Joseph and Mary alone in the room where Jesus was born? What kind of birth coach did Joseph prove to be? And what did these two young people think when they finally held in their suddenly very grown-up hands the slippery, red, squirmy bundle Who would grow up to be the Savior of all those who put their faith in Him?

When nostalgia hits, it hits hard

Whilst writing thank-you cards yesterday afternoon, I penned the following sentence: “Seems like only yesterday we were enjoying summer in California.” And with that, a wave of nostalgia passed through our kitchen, knocking my emotions off their feet. I felt the freedom of sitting in the passenger’s seat, my legs on the dashboard, my seatbelt fitted under my bulging tummy, watching the wild sunflowers fly by as we drove up and down the 5. I felt the water nestle me as I dragged that same belly along the length of the Whittier public pool. I felt the comfort of waking up – for the first time since my sophomore year of college – morning after morning in my mom and dad’s house. I felt the elation of posing for pictures on the beach just a few days before Dietrich made his way into the world. For the first time, with my pregnancy near its peak, I loved the way I looked in a bathing suit.

But that one sentence might not have been the only cause of the nostalgia storm. It was about a year ago that our theoretical, sure-let’s-try-to-have-a-baby concept turned into a very tiny Dietrich. It makes sense to celebrate birthdays: The birth moment is clear, easy to pin a date on. But Dietrich’s life began a year ago yesterday, or the day before, or sometime around there – and that’s something to celebrate, too.


Our 12-month/3-month old.

The flu bug

What a week. Last Sunday, Eric consumed a grilled cheese sandwich and promptly came down with what we assumed was food poisoning. Then, wiped out from Sunday, he spent most of Monday asleep. Tuesday night we hosted our small group’s annual Christmas party (see previous post).

Wednesday was a good day. Our good friends Jon, Andrea and Joy Hoglund rolled into town for a 4-day visit. I tried a new bread recipe, one that the Minimalist in the NY Times promised would change my life. It did, but that’s an entry for another day. We babysat for Joy and gave Jon & Andrea a night on the town. Thursday progressed smoothly, too. We all went our separate ways during the day, then in the evening, the boys participated in a theological discussion group, and Andrea and I hung out in the kitchen while I tried a butternut ginger soup recipe.

Then Friday rolled around. First, only the boys were able to take showers before our hot water was unexpectedly turned off for the rest of the day. Second, Friday was the day little Joy got sick with the stomach flu. It was the start of a very long weekend for the poor Hoglunds. In the wee hours of Saturday morning, the bug bit Andrea. By Saturday afternoon, all three Hoglunds were stricken.

You might be thinking, “A flu bug? A flu bug is not remarkable. A flu bug is not worthy of a blog entry.” But this, you see, was an ironic little flu bug. Jon & Andrea planned this trip for one purpose: So that Andrea could help throw a shower for little Dietrich. That shower was Saturday morning, just hours after Andrea fell ill. Obviously, she didn’t make it to the party. Now, we figure that the bug that bit the Hoglunds was the same one that got to Eric earlier in the week, when we thought he had eaten bad cheese. So, if the Hoglunds hadn’t come to stay with us, they wouldn’t have gotten sick, and Andrea could have gone to the shower. But, since Andrea was staying with us in order to go to the shower, she couldn’t go to the shower. Mean bug.


We took this picture of the Hoglunds this morning, just before they headed home. Momma and Poppa Hoglund feel better, but Joy is still on the mend. Thankfully, so far Dietrich and his mommy haven’t gotten sick. If you're the praying type, please ask God to keep it that way. Thanks.

The birthday bug

Yesterday was Dietrich’s 3-month birthday. To celebrate, we had our SEND small group over. (OK, to be honest, they were over to celebrate the birth of another famous baby, one who was born, born, born in Bethlehem.) We had racklett (a German dinner that involves people heating up their own meat, cheese and veggies on a machine in the middle of the table), and I made a chocolate cake with mint frosting.

This was the first time that we’d done any serious hosting since baby came along, and I was thrilled to discover that we’re still able to have people over without too much stress. This is good information to have, as we are currently discussing which of our former activities we can/should commit to again now that baby’s around. Dietrich is a people person; when a group’s around, he refuses to sleep, yet he stays happy as he’s passed from arm to arm.

In honor of the birthday boy (D not Jesus), I thought we’d take a look at how he’s grown. Here’s our little lovebug about a week after birth:



And here’s our barrel-chested big boy – all 14 pounds of him – this morning:

He did it!

Friday night: 7.5 hours
Saturday night: 7 hours
Sunday night: 8 hours

And that, my friends, is a trend.

Trendwatch continues

On Night Three, Dietrich only slept four hours before he needed a 2 a.m. snack. Last night, he logged 7.5 hours, however, so we're back to Trendwatch: Night 2 tonight. Eric's going to be his primary caretaker for much of the afternoon today while I go to a wedding shower, so hopefully daddy playtime will tucker him out.

Third time's a charm?

Hopes are high in the Oldenburg house tonight. For the past two nights, our son has logged first 9.5 and then 8 consecutive hours of shuteye. One more night, and it officially becomes a trend. Granted, those long stretches of sleep have started at midnight or so, but that works just great for his mommy’s schedule, since she’s a bit of a night owl herself. And for the first 30 minutes or so, we have to turn on the blow dryer and hang it from his door. That setup isn’t as handy as the heat fan in his grandparents’ bedroom, but it works. So, sleep well little D, sleep well.

Sad stroll

Just got back from my first stroll to the market with Dietrich. It didn’t go so well. I forgot my shopping list, Ukrainian money and my bag. Dietrich was screaming in the store, in the checkout line and while I went to change the $20 American that I fortunately had with me.

But the worst part was how lonely I felt. I must have passed 10 other women about my age pushing their babies in strollers, and not a single one of them did anything more than stare at me. I know that they don’t mean anything negative by it; it’s just such a shock after being in America where people are eager to ask about your baby. Americans tend to strike up conversation with people in similar circumstances – folks called for jury duty, people waiting in the long line at the post office, moms caring for their children. When we first got back to America, I remember being shocked, and maybe even a little offended, at how open people were – like, do I really need to know the medical history of the girl changing into her swimsuit in the same locker room where I’m changing into mine? But now I miss that transparency.

Hopefully tomorrow’s outing will be better.

Riding in style

It even comes with a cover to keep Dietrich warm!


Home from church and taking a snooze.

We took advantage of Saturday’s relatively warm weather to venture out on a shopping trip with, and for, our little one. At the central children’s market we browsed through about 50 stroller styles. This one lured us with its classy color scheme, its excellent shocks and its ability to change as baby changes. When he’s old enough to sit up, we can snap that bassinet right off and snap in a seat instead. Both options are quite adjustable, too – the bassinet can be elevated; the seat can recline. I’ll use the basket underneath and the matching bag to carry producti – fruits and veggies from the outdoor market, meat and flour from the grocery store.

Dietrich took his first ride in his new stroller when we took him to church yesterday. (He was very popular and even doled out some lovely smiles to a chosen few.) Evidently, he loves his new stroller so much that he’s too excited to sleep. Saturday night (pre stroller ride), he slept eight glorious solid hours. Sunday night (post stroller ride), he slept four and refused to go back down for a second round of zzzz’s. Probably the stroller people should not use that fact in any marketing campaigns.

Flying first class

We're back in Ukraine, which makes this blog's title legit again. The five months we spent in the States felt more like five minutes. And in those five minutemonths, our whole lives changed with Dietrich Mark Oldenburg's September 12 arrival. We are no longer a couple; now we're a group.

Unfortunately, time didn't fly during our flight back to Ukraine. In my old life, I loved long plane flights because of the movies. On overseas trips, you usually get your choice of five or more fairly current releases. But when you're locked with your baby in a flying machine with several hundred strangers, your priority switches from cinematic enjoyment to making sure that the several hundred strangers don't hate you and your child by the end of the flight. At the first sign of fussing, D and I (or D and Eric) were out of our seats, bouncing through the cabin.

Thankfully, D behaved quite well during our 24-hour (from door to door) journey. And he also got to enjoy something for which we grownups have to pay about $7,000: his own bed. I've never flown first class, and I doubt I ever will, but Dietrich made it look pretty comfy.

Introducing the newest Mr. & Mrs.

My little brother is a husband! Sam Miller (actual age: 26; age in my mind: 6) wed Jit Fong on July 15 under the huge oak tree in my parents' front yard. How to describe the wedding? It was beautiful, of course. The bride was radiant; the groom looked simultaneously shocked and satisfied. The Kiss was passionate (and looked quite well-practiced). But "homegrown" probably best captures the overall spirit of the day. My parents started making the house wedding-ready months ago, and their hard work paid off. They grew an arch in the middle of the lawn under which the bride and groom exchanged vows. Flowers bloomed in every corner of the yard. Mom made the cake and salads; dad set up tables and chairs, repaired the porch and ran innumerable errands. Aunt Judy served as florist. Eric and I decorated the getaway car. Jit Fong designed the programs. Sam made the wedding music mix. We all ripped up lettuce, sliced melons, set tables, folded napkins and completed the other tasks mom spelled out on the poster-size to-do lists that served as kitchen wallpaper in the weeks leading up to the Big Day. I can't recall our family ever teaming up on such a large project before.

But now it's all over. Visiting family members have headed home. Dad's back at work. Eric and I are focused again on SEND business, presentations, church visits and baby preparations. My mom's drifting in a sea of post-wedding bliss – and we can only hope that Sam and Jit Fong are doing the same!

Back from the (former) USSR

We’re back! Actually, we’ve been back for two weeks. Two reunion-packed, somewhat-chaotic weeks. Some highlights:

• We met with one of the three doctors who could deliver our baby, and we really liked him. There were some elements of the American medical system that we’d forgotten about (complicated insurance, long waits in the doctor’s office), but overall we feel pleased with the medical group we chose. The baby remains healthy and active, and the doctor was very impressed with the prenatal care we received in Kyiv. This means we won’t have to repeat any of the tests we did over there, which is great news.

• My little brother is getting married in 14 hours at my mom and dad’s house, which is where we’re staying at the moment. Naturally, these have been a hectic two weeks, but we can’t wait to see Sam and Jit Fong promise to have and to hold from this day forth. Family members (ours and hers) have been arriving all week, so we’ve enjoyed reunion after reunion. The groom, Eric, my dad and the best man are all at a Giants game tonight: Eric’s first baseball game in more than two years. I predict mass hot-dog consumption.

• We’ve already seen three movies! Two superhero movies and one wrestling movie – Eric’s clearly been in his movie-watching element. If only they’d release a baseball movie to complete the trifecta.

• We’ve enjoyed a very warm welcome at Morgan Hill Presbyterian Church, where Eric has already gotten the chance to give his testimony at a men’s breakfast, to preach and to hear lots of stories about me when I was growing up.

• We made our first round-trip drive down to SoCal and back last week, and the drive was much more comfortable than I thought it would be, considering the size of my belly. We crammed in lots of visits with family and friends. It was a joyful time, and I was so thankful to find that it still felt totally natural to spend time with old friends, despite the years of separation.

Overall, I’m surprised at how comfortable I feel in the States. Not much seems to have changed. Sure, there are lots of new Starbucks (two in Morgan Hill, and at least three in Whittier), but a Starbucks is still a Starbucks. I admit, I have forgotten a few things. For instance, today I did some wedding grocery shopping (the grocery stores – so big, so clean, so well-stocked!), and when I got to the register, I forgot what I’m supposed to do with the cart. Do I push it somewhere? Does the cashier handle that? We also got a little reminder of the joys of car ownership on Sunday when we rushed out to the car only to find a flat tire. Two months until Baby O arrives, and then life will seem unfamiliar all over again!

Happy meals

Our current dinner-date destination.

As I was cleaning the refrigerator today in preparation for our departure (8 days and counting), I had a happy thought: Soon, Eric and I can go on dates that don’t include the Golden Arches. Soon, we can go to a ballgame or a movie and drive home alone together, discussing life freely without worrying about attracting attention because we’re speaking in a foreign tongue. What bliss! While we’re thankful that the McDonald’s here offers us a safe, buckwheat-free place to spend some time together, there’s little romance to be found in a Happy Meal. And, while public transportation saves money and helps the environment, there’s something cozy about chatting in the car. We’ll have to savor those moments until Baby O arrives and gives us whole new experiences to savor.

Happy Father’s Day, grandpas

A profile view


Facing the camera


Baby’s symmetrical brain

On Wednesday, we received the perfect gift for a pregnant couple: A surprise ultrasound! There didn’t seem to be any real need for this ultrasound (called an Uzi in Russian), but we had to wait at the clinic for an hour between blood tests, so my theory is our doctor was just giving us a fun way to pass the time. Unlike our Mother’s Day ultrasound, we didn’t have enough time to mail these to you, but we thought you’d still appreciate 1) the thought and 2) seeing Baby O at 7 months.

Baby was sleeping with one arm behind his/her head. The ultrasound technician (a.k.a. the person who knows how to handle an Uzi) informed us that Baby O has successfully developed two feet, five fingers (we’re assuming that’s on each hand) and a symmetrical brain.

We love you, can’t wait to see you and know that you’re going to be great grandpas, just like you are great dads.

Happy Father’s Day!

love,
eric & josie O.

A bed for baby

Getting ready to go back to the States for five months has been a hectic whirl of tying up loose ends. Apart from work for SEND, my to-do list is heavily stocked with tasks I should have done ages ago, but didn’t really want to. (Clean and store winter boots. Throw away last summer’s tomato plants. Sort and print photos.)

But Wednesday we took a bit of a break from such chores to run a fun errand: We finished buying a bed for Baby! We’d already purchased sheets, a blanket and a crib (still unassembled, as it will be taking up much space in the guest room, and we have a guest expected this weekend). The mattress was the missing ingredient. Thankfully, with minimal effort, we found one that met our criteria: White, washable cover, not too hard, not too soft, fits crib and sheets.

My boots might not get cleaned, but Baby O will certainly have a space waiting for him or her when we return. We can’t wait to post a picture like the one above, but with Baby soundly tucked between the sheet and the blanket!

‘Watching’ the ball game

Eric and I have started a Sunday-night tradition that, thankfully, will soon no longer be necessary. Kyiv is 10 hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time, which means that most baseball games start sometime in the middle of the night, our time. We love baseball, but not enough to roll out of bed at 5:30 a.m. to catch a game.

Most Sunday games, on the other hand, start at 12:35 p.m. PST. That’s 10:35 p.m. for us. That is a reasonable hour. So, on Sunday nights, we hunker down in my tiny office, log on (using dialup) and “watch” our Angels play on GameDay.

GameDay, if you’re not familiar with it, is an option on MLB.com that lets you follow the game in real time. What the viewer actually sees is a little drawing of a batter and the strike zone. When a pitch is thrown, a green, red or blue circle indicates where the pitch ended up. It’s somewhat like a cartoon, except that the batter never moves. Green circles are balls, red circles are strikes and blue circles are balls in play.

When a blue circle shows up, a quick-fingered person types, “In play, out(s) recorded,” “In play, no out recorded,” or “In play, run-scoring play.” All eyes shift an inch left, to the side of the screen where there’s a drawing of a diamond. A red circle indicates where the ball landed, and that quick-fingered someone types out what happened. Last night’s game included way too many explanations like this one: “Ichiro Suzuki reaches on force attempt, fielding error by pitcher Jeff Weaver. Jeremy Reed scores,” and “Dallas McPherson strikes out swinging.”

In fact, last night, it seemed like we only watched Seattle play. Every time the Angels were up to bat, they got smoked so swiftly that even the quick-fingered person couldn’t keep up with their fast-paced stinkage.

Let’s hope they’re just saving up all the wins for when we get home and can watch the actual batter swing the actual bat.

On the town with Del

We had a fun time yesterday showing Del Chinchen around Kyiv. Del works in theological education in Kenya, and he is one of the men God used to point Eric toward missions back when Eric was a long-haired teen. (It was a summer missions trip to work with Del that forced Eric to cut off his long locks; that same trip convinced him to pursue a career in cross-cultural theological education.) I particularly enjoyed spending the day with someone who is a much better photographer than I am. He got some great shots that capture the beauty and culture of this city.


The church building at St. Sophia’s in downtown Kyiv. Eric and Del climbed the bell tower to get a better view of the city, but my belly wasn’t up to it, so I sat in the sun and enjoyed the scent of the flowers that grow on the church grounds.


I love how this photo captures the juxtaposition we notice all over Kyiv between the historic (the statue shows the Apostle Andrew, a Russian princess and two early missionaries to Ukraine) and the trendy.


The three of us on Independence Square downtown.

Hankering for a hot shower

Soup's on? Nope, just part of our morning routine.

The great thing about apartment living in Kyiv: An endless supply of really hot water. The bad thing: The two weeks every summer when the city turns off the aforementioned hot water in order to work on the pipes. I realize that many, many people on our planet face a life full of cold water every single day, and so I'm being a whiney wimp. Be that as it may, those two frigid weeks are quickly topping my list of least-favorite times to live here. Last year, it didn’t seem so bad because a) the first week, I was babysitting for a family that has their own, personal hot-water heater, b) the weather was really warm, and c) I was having some stomach pain, so the doctor put me on an all-oatmeal diet for the second week, and you just don’t need hot water to wash the mush pot.

This year is last year’s polar (as in “I’m as cold as a polar bear”) opposite. This year, of the 14 days that the water is expected to be off, we’ll have had unlucky houseguests for a full seven of them. This year, it’s still chilly outside, with powerful (and beautiful) thunderstorms. And this year, I need to cook using chicken, beef and other slimy, germy foods that cry out for a good, scalding dishware scrub.

Eric braves the cold water and comes out of the shower with his teeth chattering. I, on the other hand, enlist the aid of every pot we have, boil as much water as possible and take a lukewarm bath in about 2 inches of water. Sigh. Only three more days.

So long to school

Eric celebrates the end of language school by donning his cat hat.

Friday May 26 marked our last day of full-time Russian language school. It was a day of mixed emotions: On the one hand, it will be fantastic for Eric to focus on ministry at the seminary. But our teachers have grown dear to us, and it will be strange to not see their friendly faces day in and day out. Plus we realize that language learning is a lifetime process, so there isn't that sense of completion that comes when you ace a trig final and realize you never have to take trig again.