Hyenas, Hippos, Donkeys, Camels, Goats, Cows, Birds, Jungle views, Coffee, Fruit, Beautiful babies asking for Highland (the brand name of the bottled water), Pictures, Monkeys*, Sleep, Singing, Dancing. Missing A.
Tommy was exchanging money inside the bank. The man begging clearly had nothing. He was persistent. While Judah was in the car, I didn’t want to attract too many people, so I said “no.”
“He’s sad mommy. We should give him something. I think he needs money.”
Judah was right.
“Ethiopia is sad mommy.”
My heart.
“Ethiopia is beautiful, Judah. But, yes, parts are also sad.”
I underestimated how wise and thoughtful my baby is. He sees and feels everything.
*As I am writing, a large monkey is sitting on the window-sill. He is facing the window, scanning in a criminal like way behind him. He’s thinking about breaking in. I’m convinced that he can undo the lock, so I scare him away.
I’m scared of monkeys.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Day Two
After reading my journal, I realized that sharing everything I wrote on Day Two would be too much. I never want to hurt A.
Here are the last few sentences...
We drove to Yigram, about 6 hours south. I closed my eyes and saw those perfect, almond shaped eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
I hate that I am a big part of the pain.
When we arrived in Yigram, a coffee ceremony was starting. I looked down the small slope, past the women preparing the coffee, and saw three hyenas about 50 feet away. The tree above the women was filled with huge vulture looking birds. Monkeys swung from the trees. I sat down and enjoyed the best coffee of my life. After the coffee, we slept in a Tukul and I dreamed about my A.
Here are the last few sentences...
We drove to Yigram, about 6 hours south. I closed my eyes and saw those perfect, almond shaped eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
I hate that I am a big part of the pain.
When we arrived in Yigram, a coffee ceremony was starting. I looked down the small slope, past the women preparing the coffee, and saw three hyenas about 50 feet away. The tree above the women was filled with huge vulture looking birds. Monkeys swung from the trees. I sat down and enjoyed the best coffee of my life. After the coffee, we slept in a Tukul and I dreamed about my A.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Day One, Home on the Range
Today we met our girl. It was more than we could have hoped for.
I’ll start when we arrived in Ethiopia. It was about 2 AM.
Inside the airport, I was suddenly struck with a mixed sense of guilt and pride. Pride in what a beautiful person Judah has become. He’s only 3, but he makes me feel proud. In almost a school-girl-silly-excited way, I was excited to share his joy and belly laugh with Ethiopia. Yet, the larger part of me, felt guilt. Guilt for taking him away from this beautiful country. The first little stab happened at the airport restrooms. Yes, we were barely off the plane. The sweet woman who takes care of the restrooms smiled warmly at Judah and said “I love you, baby.” Judah was happy. In America, I know that he will have so much opportunity, which I am very grateful for, but he will not have restroom attendants say that they love him. He will not face love with each turn he takes. Walking out of the restroom, we filled out immigration paperwork. While we completed the paperwork, Judah found two friends to play with. I looked at the three Ethiopian boys, all the exact same size, flying their prized Turkish Air airplanes and laughing. Again, small stabs of pride and guilt. Next, we went to get our Visas. Judah made friends with the people working there. They played with him and teased him. He was happy. I was happy.
I think that I was so focused on the tasks at hand. Taking him to the restroom, immigration, visas, money exchange, luggage, spotting our driver, that I was unprepared for the emotion until it consumed me. I walked out of the airport and tears flew. Yes, I tried to hide them.
This was not an ugly cry moment, perhaps because I didn’t realize I was crying until I was wiping the flow from my face. It actually took me a moment for my brain to catch up to my heart. Almost three years ago, I was standing right here. Becoming Judah’s mom for the first time. Overwhelmed and happy. With our friends. The air felt the same. We were here. To meet our girl.
We got to our guesthouse, a mere 32 hours after we left our home. Judah stated, in a matter-of-fact style, “My home is beautiful. Ethiopia is beautiful. Our view is beautiful.” I felt joy from my toes to my hair and taking one glance at Tommy, with his sleepy-dazed-happy eyes, I knew he did too.
We slept for a few hours. I woke up quite a few times, counting the minutes until we could hug our girl. We got up at 7, took showers and got dressed. My nervous and tired mind questioned everything, even my simple outfit (I tried to figure out which colors would make me appear less intimidating, I went with purple, not sure why). We went downstairs and had breakfast. The beautiful girls at the guesthouse gave us toast with jelly, eggs, oatmeal and coffee. They gave Judah tea, which he thought was the most special thing that could have ever happened to him.
Our friendly driver arrived a few minutes before 9. I had butterflies about meeting my daughter.
I remembered visiting hours started at 10. We were running early. The rule follower part of me was happy when there was traffic and happier when we got lost. I needed to prepare myself for the moment. The moment that I have spent months obsessing over and had no plan for. At the same time, I didn’t think I could physically handle the prolonged anticipation. I’ve been waiting for months.
When we pulled through the gates, all the children came to greet us. I immediately recognized her. She did a sideways glance at the car and remained seated on the steps. The nannys took the children to a classroom in the back corner. Judah ran to play on the playground a few feet away. Sister told her in Amharic.
I kneeled down. She came over and leaned her tiny body on my leg, kissed my cheek, threw her arm around me and started gently playing with my hair. I smiled and told her “I love you.” The most beautiful voice in the world replied, “I love you, mama.”
My heart stopped. It’s been 12 hours and my heart has still not recovered.
She is beautiful. She just sat with us and gently stroked my back and played with my hair.
Tommy played silly peek-a-boo and eyebrow raising games. Her laugh was quiet. She hid her face and wrinkled up her nose.
Judah and A were so sweet to each other. They kissed one another. She quickly found humor in how easily he laughs and even humored him by playing on the playground with him.
Mostly, she seemed to prefer sitting on my lap and gently stroking my hair. I would point out a bird and a few minutes later she would point out a different one and say “bird” in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard.
Realizing that my sweet husband had let me, not only have the first minute, but the first hour, I went to find Judah (who I found happily playing with kids and requested that he have some time to play without me). In the short few minutes I was away, Tommy taught A how to use our camera (not a simple one) at a much greater proficiency level than me. She ended up taking about 120 pictures. I’m thrilled that over the next few weeks, and when we return, she can document her life here.
I don’t know how else to describe it, but I’m addicted to Judah. Touching his hand or leg, smelling his hair, hearing his voice or laugh, even just fleeting eye contact with him, are all my “fixes.” I love everything about him. Completely.
I knew that I would feel this way about A. I even gave myself a timeline. 6 months (to be renewed every 6 months, indefinitely, until I felt it). I prepared myself. If I didn’t feel the magic initially, I would eventually.
I felt it.
I am so happy that I get to spend the next two weeks with her. I am already heartbroken that I will have to leave her. Tommy is too. Tommy, A and I sat together and it just felt magical. The song, Home on the Range (you know, where the deer and the antelope play) was playing in the background. We sang. I felt home.
Please know, I realize completely that I have written all of the above from a completely selfish perspective. Although today was magic for me, I know that one day I will talk with A about today and will hear a very different story. She was brave and loving and beautiful and more than I could ever dream, but no girl should have to go through what she has gone through and what she went through today. She had no choice. As she sat on my lap, I felt her two little bones dig into my thigh and gently rubbed her back. I searched her face, her heartbeat, for the fear I knew was possibly overwhelming to her. I couldn’t see it. I hope she tells me. Some day. It’s too much for any person to carry alone.
I’ll start when we arrived in Ethiopia. It was about 2 AM.
Inside the airport, I was suddenly struck with a mixed sense of guilt and pride. Pride in what a beautiful person Judah has become. He’s only 3, but he makes me feel proud. In almost a school-girl-silly-excited way, I was excited to share his joy and belly laugh with Ethiopia. Yet, the larger part of me, felt guilt. Guilt for taking him away from this beautiful country. The first little stab happened at the airport restrooms. Yes, we were barely off the plane. The sweet woman who takes care of the restrooms smiled warmly at Judah and said “I love you, baby.” Judah was happy. In America, I know that he will have so much opportunity, which I am very grateful for, but he will not have restroom attendants say that they love him. He will not face love with each turn he takes. Walking out of the restroom, we filled out immigration paperwork. While we completed the paperwork, Judah found two friends to play with. I looked at the three Ethiopian boys, all the exact same size, flying their prized Turkish Air airplanes and laughing. Again, small stabs of pride and guilt. Next, we went to get our Visas. Judah made friends with the people working there. They played with him and teased him. He was happy. I was happy.
I think that I was so focused on the tasks at hand. Taking him to the restroom, immigration, visas, money exchange, luggage, spotting our driver, that I was unprepared for the emotion until it consumed me. I walked out of the airport and tears flew. Yes, I tried to hide them.
This was not an ugly cry moment, perhaps because I didn’t realize I was crying until I was wiping the flow from my face. It actually took me a moment for my brain to catch up to my heart. Almost three years ago, I was standing right here. Becoming Judah’s mom for the first time. Overwhelmed and happy. With our friends. The air felt the same. We were here. To meet our girl.
We got to our guesthouse, a mere 32 hours after we left our home. Judah stated, in a matter-of-fact style, “My home is beautiful. Ethiopia is beautiful. Our view is beautiful.” I felt joy from my toes to my hair and taking one glance at Tommy, with his sleepy-dazed-happy eyes, I knew he did too.
We slept for a few hours. I woke up quite a few times, counting the minutes until we could hug our girl. We got up at 7, took showers and got dressed. My nervous and tired mind questioned everything, even my simple outfit (I tried to figure out which colors would make me appear less intimidating, I went with purple, not sure why). We went downstairs and had breakfast. The beautiful girls at the guesthouse gave us toast with jelly, eggs, oatmeal and coffee. They gave Judah tea, which he thought was the most special thing that could have ever happened to him.
Our friendly driver arrived a few minutes before 9. I had butterflies about meeting my daughter.
I remembered visiting hours started at 10. We were running early. The rule follower part of me was happy when there was traffic and happier when we got lost. I needed to prepare myself for the moment. The moment that I have spent months obsessing over and had no plan for. At the same time, I didn’t think I could physically handle the prolonged anticipation. I’ve been waiting for months.
When we pulled through the gates, all the children came to greet us. I immediately recognized her. She did a sideways glance at the car and remained seated on the steps. The nannys took the children to a classroom in the back corner. Judah ran to play on the playground a few feet away. Sister told her in Amharic.
I kneeled down. She came over and leaned her tiny body on my leg, kissed my cheek, threw her arm around me and started gently playing with my hair. I smiled and told her “I love you.” The most beautiful voice in the world replied, “I love you, mama.”
My heart stopped. It’s been 12 hours and my heart has still not recovered.
She is beautiful. She just sat with us and gently stroked my back and played with my hair.
Tommy played silly peek-a-boo and eyebrow raising games. Her laugh was quiet. She hid her face and wrinkled up her nose.
Judah and A were so sweet to each other. They kissed one another. She quickly found humor in how easily he laughs and even humored him by playing on the playground with him.
Mostly, she seemed to prefer sitting on my lap and gently stroking my hair. I would point out a bird and a few minutes later she would point out a different one and say “bird” in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard.
Realizing that my sweet husband had let me, not only have the first minute, but the first hour, I went to find Judah (who I found happily playing with kids and requested that he have some time to play without me). In the short few minutes I was away, Tommy taught A how to use our camera (not a simple one) at a much greater proficiency level than me. She ended up taking about 120 pictures. I’m thrilled that over the next few weeks, and when we return, she can document her life here.
I don’t know how else to describe it, but I’m addicted to Judah. Touching his hand or leg, smelling his hair, hearing his voice or laugh, even just fleeting eye contact with him, are all my “fixes.” I love everything about him. Completely.
I knew that I would feel this way about A. I even gave myself a timeline. 6 months (to be renewed every 6 months, indefinitely, until I felt it). I prepared myself. If I didn’t feel the magic initially, I would eventually.
I felt it.
I am so happy that I get to spend the next two weeks with her. I am already heartbroken that I will have to leave her. Tommy is too. Tommy, A and I sat together and it just felt magical. The song, Home on the Range (you know, where the deer and the antelope play) was playing in the background. We sang. I felt home.
Please know, I realize completely that I have written all of the above from a completely selfish perspective. Although today was magic for me, I know that one day I will talk with A about today and will hear a very different story. She was brave and loving and beautiful and more than I could ever dream, but no girl should have to go through what she has gone through and what she went through today. She had no choice. As she sat on my lap, I felt her two little bones dig into my thigh and gently rubbed her back. I searched her face, her heartbeat, for the fear I knew was possibly overwhelming to her. I couldn’t see it. I hope she tells me. Some day. It’s too much for any person to carry alone.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
I broke.
My auto-pilot broke. Thoughtless tasks are now challenge-filled. Last week I found myself a few miles past work. A few miles. NOT an exit. I tried to fill a prescription. A three step process. I've counted. Check in, wait, get prescription. I only completed the first two steps before I got distracted and left.
My favorite (albeit the most discouraging) part is that it took me a few hours to realize that I had failed the task. Tomorrow I will try again. I only have one more try before I leave.
I think I might be nervous. I'm pretty sure.
2 days. TWO.
My favorite (albeit the most discouraging) part is that it took me a few hours to realize that I had failed the task. Tomorrow I will try again. I only have one more try before I leave.
I think I might be nervous. I'm pretty sure.
2 days. TWO.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thoughts about marriage...
Judah has been doing research lately. Research on marriage. He's interested.
"Mommy, are you and daddy married?"
Yes.
"Why did daddy marry you?"
I think because he loves me.
"oh."
A few days later...
"I'm going to ask D* to marry me."
Do you think you're a little bit young?
Shrugs with disgust at my silly question and says, "No. I just keep getting bigger and bigger."
Where will you live?
"Look at how high these ceiling are! We live here."
So you are going to ask her?
Misunderstands the last two words for his sister's name (BIG hint if you've been wondering what A stands for) and gets emotional, "NO! D is going to marry ME, not A."
The next day...
"D, will you marry me?"
She replied, "Thank you."
At daycare, he was overheard inviting her to his home in Africa. I can't believe my little gentleman has his first mini crush.
*D is the cutie in the train/snow pictures a few posts below.
Have I mentioned that we are leaving for Ethiopia in FOUR days to meet our daughter? Yes, 4.
"Mommy, are you and daddy married?"
Yes.
"Why did daddy marry you?"
I think because he loves me.
"oh."
A few days later...
"I'm going to ask D* to marry me."
Do you think you're a little bit young?
Shrugs with disgust at my silly question and says, "No. I just keep getting bigger and bigger."
Where will you live?
"Look at how high these ceiling are! We live here."
So you are going to ask her?
Misunderstands the last two words for his sister's name (BIG hint if you've been wondering what A stands for) and gets emotional, "NO! D is going to marry ME, not A."
The next day...
"D, will you marry me?"
She replied, "Thank you."
At daycare, he was overheard inviting her to his home in Africa. I can't believe my little gentleman has his first mini crush.
*D is the cutie in the train/snow pictures a few posts below.
Have I mentioned that we are leaving for Ethiopia in FOUR days to meet our daughter? Yes, 4.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
About my girl
I am nervous. and excited. and overwhelmed. and happy. I am going to meet my 8ish-year-old daughter in less than a week.
I can't post any identifying information, but I just realized that I have a lot to say.
If I think about how she feels, for even a tiny fraction of a second, my eyes fill with tears. All that she has lost, all that she is going to lose. I keep reading, but I just don't think I can really prepare myself for so many unknowns.
I can't share "identifying information."
I can describe her.
She is tiny and beautiful. Long, skinny limbs. Almond-shaped eyes. She looks very different from Judah, but both of my babies have eyes that tell long stories with glances. Her eyes are more careful than his. In some pictures, her look alone makes you take a deep breath and you feel the impact in your stomach. You remember it. It's powerful. After seeing her picture, one sweet friend wrote about being "instantly overcome from my gut to my tears."
I don't share those pictures often. They feel personal and I'm very protective of her. Although, I have to tell you, they are beautiful.
In other pictures, she's been described as a doe and I don't have better words. Her gentle nature is clear. Those I share.
Her skin is dark ebony and her lips are full, but not big. She has barely there eyebrows and her hair is shaved.
I have completely fallen in love with her. Our girl. A.
I haven't met her, but here are some words from people who have:
A is a very loving eight year old girl. She comes off as being shy at first but once she gets comfortable she is sociable, friendly, and interacts with her peers well. She enjoys playing with others, drawing pictures, playing with toys, and jumping rope. She is very mature and kind in how she treats other children. She is usually the peacemaker when other children get into fights. She also shares her toys with others. She is independent and recognizes her responsibility and follows through her chores. She speaks two languages fluently. She is a bright little girl and eager to learn new things. A has a beautiful smile that really lights up a room.
A fellow adoptive mama:
First, I have to tell you that A is absolutely adorable! I was able to give A lots of hugs and kisses and we held hands (I think she liked the fact that I knew her name). The hardest and saddest part for me was not being able to tell her that I knew her mommy and that her mommy would be there soon. A smiled a lot, but in almost every picture, she did not smile.
Words from last week:
I was at the care center almost every day and A is just so wonderful. When anyone visits the care center, all of the children run up to the visitors for hugs and attention. Every time, A would come up to me and give me a big hug. She didn’t seem to be asking for attention, rather she seemed to be welcoming me with her big smile and a hug. She has so much character. She loves to be dressed up in hats and she loves smiling. I don't think a minute went by where there wasn't a huge smile on her face. It was wonderful to meet her and I can't wait for you to get there in just a few weeks!!
We are leaving in SIX days. Six. Wow.
I can't post any identifying information, but I just realized that I have a lot to say.
If I think about how she feels, for even a tiny fraction of a second, my eyes fill with tears. All that she has lost, all that she is going to lose. I keep reading, but I just don't think I can really prepare myself for so many unknowns.
I can't share "identifying information."
I can describe her.
She is tiny and beautiful. Long, skinny limbs. Almond-shaped eyes. She looks very different from Judah, but both of my babies have eyes that tell long stories with glances. Her eyes are more careful than his. In some pictures, her look alone makes you take a deep breath and you feel the impact in your stomach. You remember it. It's powerful. After seeing her picture, one sweet friend wrote about being "instantly overcome from my gut to my tears."
I don't share those pictures often. They feel personal and I'm very protective of her. Although, I have to tell you, they are beautiful.
In other pictures, she's been described as a doe and I don't have better words. Her gentle nature is clear. Those I share.
Her skin is dark ebony and her lips are full, but not big. She has barely there eyebrows and her hair is shaved.
I have completely fallen in love with her. Our girl. A.
I haven't met her, but here are some words from people who have:
A is a very loving eight year old girl. She comes off as being shy at first but once she gets comfortable she is sociable, friendly, and interacts with her peers well. She enjoys playing with others, drawing pictures, playing with toys, and jumping rope. She is very mature and kind in how she treats other children. She is usually the peacemaker when other children get into fights. She also shares her toys with others. She is independent and recognizes her responsibility and follows through her chores. She speaks two languages fluently. She is a bright little girl and eager to learn new things. A has a beautiful smile that really lights up a room.
A fellow adoptive mama:
First, I have to tell you that A is absolutely adorable! I was able to give A lots of hugs and kisses and we held hands (I think she liked the fact that I knew her name). The hardest and saddest part for me was not being able to tell her that I knew her mommy and that her mommy would be there soon. A smiled a lot, but in almost every picture, she did not smile.
Words from last week:
I was at the care center almost every day and A is just so wonderful. When anyone visits the care center, all of the children run up to the visitors for hugs and attention. Every time, A would come up to me and give me a big hug. She didn’t seem to be asking for attention, rather she seemed to be welcoming me with her big smile and a hug. She has so much character. She loves to be dressed up in hats and she loves smiling. I don't think a minute went by where there wasn't a huge smile on her face. It was wonderful to meet her and I can't wait for you to get there in just a few weeks!!
We are leaving in SIX days. Six. Wow.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
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