The Hatches

7 Months

2013-06-01T23:17:00.000-04:00

Monday marks 7 months since our family of six first came together... at Logan Airport in Boston.

In 7 months we’ve all had our shining moments. We’ve all had our dark moments. We’ve had lots of moments that just feel normal. Those are the moments I live for. I long for. The older kids not trying too hard. Not pushing too hard. The little one not resisting.

Sitota on the floor playing with her letter cards. The boys playing the circle game. Lucy singing/drawing/reading.

Or all 4 out in the yard, neighbor kids joining in the fray. Little sister yelling “STOP!” Or just the sounds of summer as they play and play, coming in time and again for water and snacks and mom watching out the window.

Or all 4 sprawled on the furniture each with their head buried in one screen or another.

But all 4. Together. Squeeee. Even when I’ve lost my patience again. Even when they are all over each other. Even when.

I put her to bed tonight, taking all of the time she needed. Not feeling rushed or tired. Loving when she grabbed my face, “I love yoooou 5 times.”

Have I told you how smart she is? I like to brag like that. She knows a lot. Letters, numbers, and she expresses herself clearly. She finds ways to tell us even when she doesn’t know the words. Like in Florida when she gestured to her eyes and said “Mom, can I have... can I have my... Can I have my pool face?” When she wanted her goggles.

She loves to dance and sing. Sometimes she says, “Don’t look at me!” And when we go to one of Lucy’s performances she asks, “Mom, can I sing up there? When I am bigger?”

She’s finally trying new food, and often insists that we close our eyes and cheer for her when she does.

Today was her first trip to Mama’s happy place. (Ok, I have several happy places, but this is a big one.) We all went to Sebago lake. She wanted nothing to do with the water at first, but soon let Aidan slowly bring her into the lake. It does something to me when I see her lanky little arms wrapped around his neck.

We’ve come so far, and with our court date anniversary coming up in August, I can’t help but replay where we were 7 months ago, but also where we were a year ago.

This time last year I wrote:

No update. Just waiting. "We're working on it." And the days pass and we get closer and closer to the day the courts close.

Feeling melancholy and frustrated and tired.

Tired body tired spirit.

I don’t remember that day, but I remember how it felt. It wasn’t long after we’d gotten word that the orphanage Sitota was at was in dire straits. No money. No food. No director.

That was fun.

A year ago I leaned so heavily on my friends to hold me up. Lucky to have had so many hands and hearts reaching out to me. To us. Thank you.

A year ago my adoption network was largely comprised of people I did not know. Many we met in August, and cried each other out of Ethiopia after passing court, but long before being submitted for Embassy. These women knew in a way others couldn’t. We held each other up.

A year ago we still called her Sadie. We hadn’t yet seen how every single stranger we met in Ethiopia would light up when we told them her name. “Do you know what that means?” they all asked. “She is a gift.” Yes, yes, we know.

So we decided she’d spend the rest of her life spelling her name. Just like her mom does.

17 weeks Home

2013-02-16T11:14:00.001-05:00

Gosh, my goal in writing here was two (or more) fold. First, to write in an open way about this adoption ride and second, to journal the experience for Sitota when she's older. Because we forget. We do. So, lets see how this goes.

6 weeks. It's been 6 weeks since I last wrote here. We came home with Sitota 17 weeks ago today. Is that IT? I remember when I wrote about how she didn't like me very much and I was jealous of the Punks. I remember when we used to have to make up games that encouraged contact, closeness and affection.

I remember when it felt so hard. Moments still are hard.

Have you had a toddler who was strong willed and sassy and yelled? A lot. A 3 year old who needed naps most days, but only ever took them when you drove her around? Or how about one who wakes up most nights, wakes her sister up, comes to you and a game of musical beds commences? Have you had a punk who required bribery to try new foods and refused most veggies?

Yeah, me, too.

Mostly we've stopped playing the "is this adoption related behavior or toddler related behavior" game. It doesn't matter too much at this stage of the game. She requires the same tender lovin' limits to get through. There are moments though, when we make note. Rob was putting her to bed last week and they were saying prayers together, and Sitota suddenly and quietly filled up with tears. Stoic, and making great effort to hold herself together. Her little nose red, her eyes filled, her lips pressed together in determination.... it tears me apart. "It felt different." Rob said. Who knows if she was grieving a loss or just wishing she was playing with the other Punks?

We've been swimming, and she is making great strides. She looks forward to it, for sure. We stay in the pool for an hour or more most times. She stayed in the childcare at the Y for about 10 minutes without tears, and we talk about going back for longer.

She's clingy. A Mama's girl. But she's accepted the alternating nights of Rob and I coordinating her bedtime rituals. She is a creature of habit and cycles through books. Right now it's Olivia and Llama Llama Home with Mama. She wants to go to the Degas painting in the Olivia book. I think she wants to actually go into the painting, but it would be interesting to see how she'd do at an art museum. She also asks to go to the Cosby Show with great regularity, and once she pointed to a photo of her and her friend at the care center and asked if we could go there "later?"

She's tired of the Punks getting in her face and asking for hugs and kisses. They love their sister and are slowly driving her crazy. She loves to be with them when she gets her was, but she's bossy and yelly when they aren't bending to her will. Still a couple steps away from normal, but it's getting there. They are getting there.

She's also tolerating dogs more now. Mostly. Rob and Sitota went to bring Clay to a friends house where they have an English bulldog. She was scared, but warmed to the point where she came home telling me about how the dog was kissing her leg. That weekend, we went to have dinner with some good friends who have a sweet border collie mix. Nervous, sure, but she did great. Huge strides.

We still look at pictures a lot. We snuggle a lot. Potty training is going pretty well. We get exasperated and we get tired and we laugh. We do all of those things. Often.

The other kids are doing well, and we have stopped asking, "is this an adoption issue or a Punk issue." Doesn't matter, we are wading through the tender lovin' limits and we feel like our heads are popping off on a regular basis. Life. Teenagers and tweens and toddlers. New reality show?

And Rob and I are having a night out next weekend, and that will be good too.

And now my meter has run out, and I have to go get Aidan from his 1st art class at Maine College of Art. I hope it went great and this will be a positive experience for him.

Thanks for hanging out for a few minutes. It feels good to get this stuff out.

This is Grace

2013-01-02T00:23:00.002-05:00

I was sitting on the floor next to Sitota's bed. We'd just read books and said prayers and she was so close to drifting off to sleep.

I know, it's been awhile since I've written anything... that's partly because toddlers are supremely exhausting. It's also because of Christmas concerts, preparations and celebrations. It's somehow because of Newtown, the grief and the hurt. It's also because even when everything is going well... adding a new family member is deeply deeply draining.

I'm not going to be able to say this well. This I already know.

When I sat beside her tonight, I knew I had to try.

There's a sweetness in a sleepy baby, a sweetness in the look from the warm round face, and the big bright eyes. It's too much for me to resist. It must be Grace in action, because it washes away all of the messy moments. If you're a parent, you know that sweetness. It's our fuel.

Before I knew what was going on, tears were flowing down my cheeks. I just wanted to ask her, "How are you doing? How is this Maine thing working out for you? What do miss most about Ethiopia?" And oh! my! God! I wanted to plead. I wanted her to answer me. While she still remembered Ethiopia. I wanted her to put words to what she's been feeling. I needed it.

Which isn't at all what it's about.

I am so sorry, sweet girl. I am so sorry that you had to leave your complicated first home. I'm sorry that your early life wasn't what it could have been. I hope that we'll not forget or belittle your losses. I wish... oh, the things I wish.

Yes, the bedtime routine gets tired. I wish often that she wanted her Daddy to put her to sleep on occasion...

But I am done complaining. God knows I need the Grace that comes with sweet sleepy babies.

Injera and Bananas and Pizza

2012-12-05T22:02:00.001-05:00

I hope this won't come out wrong.

I would say without hesitation that the adoption ride is amazing. Wonderful, even. (It's other things, too.)

But when people say that we are those things- wonderful or amazing- it makes me a little squiggly on the inside. We aren't. We're a mess. Just like you, you know, if you happen to be.

A long time ago a dad was telling us about how he hated when people remarked about how lucky his children were. He resented that people said or implied that he saved them. He and his wife chose adoption to build their family, and he didn't like the feeling that came with that descriptor.

Yes, but...

Yes, Sitota's life is different than it would have been if she'd remained in an orphanage in Ethiopia. If I hadn't seen the tweet that led me to the blog that opened my eyes to loving orphans... I don't know what I would be writing about tonight. I don't know what our family focus would have been for the past 2 years. That trip has definitely defined this stage of our lives.

I went and I saw and I ached and I loved and I hurt and I met Sitota. And when I came home I shared a picture and somethings that I wrote. I have shared this before, and I will likely share it again:

This was the moment for me.
I stood by the window knowing that in just a few short minutes I would be leaving the orphanage. Knowing that in a few hours I would be leaving Africa. I didn't know if I would be back.
I knew that this sweet girl, this helpless child, this embodiment of pure perfection was my entire purpose for being in Africa. I stood there with her warm weight in my arms and remembered every moment that I had held my children. I kissed her head, her cheeks, her neck with every ounce of love that I had for my children.
My sole purpose on this planet, was to pour all of the love that I had into this baby girl.
Tears poured down my face, onto her cheeks as she looked at me with those uncertain wide eyes. I ached with the thought that no Mama would be tucking her in at night. There would be no Mama thanking God for her as she drifted off to sleep. No Mama to chase away her nightmares. No Mama to celebrate her first step. Her first word.

The thing is... I didn't think that I was talking about my daughter. Honest to God, I didn't. I left Africa wanting to make a difference at that little orphanage for those sweet babies. I wanted them to have enough. I wanted someday to return and love them. All of them.

A few months later we started asking... could we? Should we? She stayed with me, you see. In that moment when I was saying goodbye, she was every motherless baby. But somehow she crawled inside and rooted there. I fell in love. And then Rob did, too. And she became our daughter.

It was almost a year later that we got The Green Light. Yes, she is "available." Yes, we were all in.

Oh, it was messy. Uncertainty, worry, fear, hope, fear, worry, uncertainty. The Wait. It's a relief to be on this side of that.

We tried to shield the older punks from the waves of worry, but we weren't always successful. We couldn't be. We did our best. And somewhere along the line, they fell in love, too. I know it happened before she came to Maine. I know it did.

And now, only a month in, I know this is still a honeymoon period- where they are smitten and overwhelmed by the cute. We all are. But I heard some frustration from one of them the other day and I thought "YES!" A glimpse of normal. It's coming.

There are 10 years between Aidan and Sitota. 8 between Clay and Sitota, and 5 between the girls. I'll get all choked up writing about how they are with her. The understanding that they show, the compassion, the empathy. It is inspiring. For real. Each one of them has proved themselves to be... Gah. Bigger. Better. More. I don't know how to write about this yet, but I am so thankful for them and who they are becoming.

Am I really off topic? Maybe I should've just written about the progress she's making- how her language is exploding and she demonstrates her comprehension constantly. I could write about how she's back into her baths and asks every day to take one. I could have told you about how today she! played! alone! I was in the room folding laundry and she set up her little kitchen with her giraffe and her little brown baby and her little white baby and her woof-woof. She made them injera and bananas and pizza. I could've shared her favorite books or told you about how she loves to sing, and how she loves my phone. You might have liked to read about how she asks 89,956 times a day "what's dis?" Or about chicken! Tonight at dinner she had 4 bites of chicken before she started throwing her utensils. And speaking of chicken, sometimes that's what she calls the kitchen. I could've written a long list of people and things that she thanks God for when she lays in bed at night. It's pretty much adorable. She is pretty much the smartest 3 year old I know. No offense to your 3 year old.

But I guess I just want to say that my house is completely a mess and my basement flooded and my laundry is way out of control and we have ordered out as often as we've cooked a meal. We are neither amazing nor wonderful. We are messy. She sometimes cries and I don't know why and I end up crying and moody, too. And if I get serious with her about something she yells at me loudly, persistently, and with great emotion. Sometimes I think it's kind of cute. Sometimes I am exhausted by it and impatient with this phase. Sometimes the older punks are all up in her face wanting her to perform, and steam pours out of my ears. The highs are so very high. The lows are awfully low.

So far, only 4.5 weeks in, underlining it all, I go back to what that dad said about not saving his kids. I get it. I mean, I guess she is one of the lucky kids who now has a home and a family... so many babies are still going to sleep as orphans. But honestly...

Oh, what if we hadn't jumped in? Not for her... but for us? What if we didn't get to love her? Who would we be?

I have no idea.

Tank you, Gah.

Thankful for Toddler Prayers

2012-11-21T22:19:00.003-05:00

When we were drowning in the wait to bring Sitota home (which does seem like eons ago), and I started blogging, I did it because connecting with other adoptive families was the lifeboat that helped me to realize that she would eventually be here with us. And I know other people feel that way, too. And when everyone (me, too) facebooks their new families, it's to share the highest of the highs. Nothing more.

The firsts are so fun, and the connections with the other Punks are sweet. And the photo-ops are plentiful.

But that's not so much about what I have to say today. This is a peek into the other stuff. Because reading the real stuff- even when it is utterly mundane, shares more than the highlights. And that's good for the world of adoption. I think.

The good- We have been home for a little over 2 weeks and the mollescum on Sitota's neck is so much better. I would say it's reduced by half.

The bad- She developed an abscess beneath the mollescum that started to look almost like a boil. Yesterday, we took her to the doctor in hope that he would just prescribe an antibiotic, but he decided it had to be drained, too. It. Was. Awful. From the moment we walked into the outer office she wanted to leave. I know she remembered the TB test from last week and wanted exactly nothing to do with that. Little did she know how much worse it would be. We probably should have had the nurses help instead of us, but we wanted to try to comfort her. I held her head and went nose to nose with her trying to comfort her. Rob held her body. Singing the ABCs, striving for a look of ease, I just kept eye contact. It stunk.

What could she have possibly been thinking?

Then the doctor said we had to go back the following day. That's today. Gah. I'm dreading it something awful. It looks better today, so I am hopeful that they will just let the antibiotics run their course. (Because this post has been written in 5 minute blocks over 2 days I can tell you that they didn't drain it again. Thanks, God.)

The attachment- Having 3 punks around to help occupy, entertain, and teach the littlest punk has been fun and helpful. But there are challenges. She chooses them. They aren't pushing the hard stuff on her. They get all of the fun stuff. I'm so happy that they are bonding. This is a true statement.

It is also a true statement that it's hard and I am a bit jealous. Yup, mother of the year.

Sitota is careful with her affection. And by careful, I mean stingy. She hugs and kisses her punks pretty freely. But us? she's stingy for sure. She looks at me with the sweet little shoulder shrug. "No." That's ok, I smile. I think it's a test. I hope I'll pass.

Don't get me wrong- we know. We know it will come. We know it's only been a little while. We know we don't have anything to worry about. But it still bums me out. For now. That's ok.

Also, she's still "off" baths. I tried the sink today, and the result was 45 minutes of crying and yelling... and that was after she got out of her 5 minute bath. Poor Aidan who always wants to rescue her, was completely unsuccessful in helping her to reset. She wanted him, but he could do nothing to please her. He was so patient. But this was between me and Sitota. So, I did what any insane parent would do. I scooped her up despite her protest and plopped her in the car for a change of scenery. Just the 2 of us with the music blasting. Then when we got home, I sat right next to her in the car and had a little talk.

"Sitota, sometimes we are going to have to take a bath. Mommy takes care of you, and sometimes that means a bath."

"NO BATH."

"The bath is all-done!"

(Big nod.)

"But, you know, someday you will have to have another bath. Like tomorrow. Or the next day. And when that day comes, if you could not completely flip out and freak out, well, that would be awesome."

"All done bath!"

Yes. All done bath. And then I got a kiss.

And I know it seems completely stupid to write about this stupid little incident. But it is surprising to me how something so small can take my mind down a path so quickly. How easy it is to make a list of things you might be doing wrong. Of times when patience runs dry. The questions I ask, the thoughts I think... and the guilt.

It's "supposed" to be all perfect now. She's home! Finally! Prayers answered! Waits survived! It's over!

I mean, now we get to start.

And so today when I was completely jealous of how she loves Aidan, I was pitiful and jealous and even resentful. It was wonderful. I'm so proud.

I reached out to some other adoption friends. I said, "It's ok to just cry sometimes and say, 'this is hard,' right?"

One replied, "I cry every day." Another said, "Absolutely. You can even do it more than once a day. Sometimes I would pretend to use the bathroom to squeak out a quick cry. It is hard. For awhile, but not forever. I think sometimes in the beginning, they want to sort of push us away...test the waters...will you still love me when I do this? What about this? I just try to focus on the child being a vessel that I have to fill with love, and completely take myself out of it."

Then I cried because I was thankful for the light and the hope and the feeling that other people were with me.

Tonight, on the eve of thanksgiving, I don't have to remind myself of the things I'm thankful for or second guess choices I've made. I just have to think about laying in bed next to the Littlest Punk. Starting prayers, her little voice echoing my words:

Thank you God for Aidan
Thank you God for Clay
Thank you God for Lucy
Thank you God for Sitota
Thank you God for Mommy and Daddy
Thank you for our home
and our food
and our love...

And then she shushed me, "Mommy, Mommy, ene, ene (me) do it, Sitota do it"

Tank you Gah babies
Tank you Gah woof-woofs (this one is a LIE, she hates dogs)
Tank you Gah applesauce
Tank you Gah Mihretu (her friend)
Tank you Gah Moooooooo
Tank you Gah Mommy's hat
Tank you Gah seven, eight, nine...
Ah-Men.

And I wish you could have seen her little clasped hands, and closed eyes... absolutely a moment to remember.

Perfection.

Also, it was night 2 of going to sleep without tears. Of sleeping with babies and the pillow pet night light. Pre-sleep conversations and quiet connections, and a big fat kiss.

Tank you, Gah.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Just a few anecdotes...

2012-11-15T23:03:00.000-05:00

I'm too tired to write, but...

Yesterday I took Sitota on a few errands. In the store I picked up some of the tiny bands for braids. She looked at them, looked at me, shook her finger and said "Nooo," and she put them back on the shelf. Too soon... :-)

She sat in the cart and talked to everyone we saw... at times yelling to people across the store, "Hello... how are youuuu?" When they responded and asked how she was, she just parroted them back. She has no idea what she is saying...

Today we went to meet Memere. When Sitota saw the singing turkey she slipped into panic mode. "No, no, NO!" Poor Memere. It was something to watch them play ball together. At one point I think she wanted Memere to crawl under the kitchen table to get her "kwass." So funny.

She got pretty bored on the drive home (about 1 1/4 hours). She was talkative and silly. At one point she was calling me. (At the care center, the Nannies would say, "Xabier Abakesh" God Bless, or something similar, and Sitota would answer, "Amen.")

S: "Mom, Mommy, Mommy..."
Me: "Yes, Sitota?"
S: "Xabier......" pause...
Me: Abakesh
S: Amen... (hysterical laughter...)

Then she proceeded to close her eyes and fold her hands in prayer and speak in Amharic. She just laughs when we say grace at dinner and say bedtime prayers, so this was a first.

I stopped to get gas on the way home... and before I got out of the car she sees the other people at the pump and starts yelling to them, "Hello! I love you!"

Yeah.

She loves the piano, thanks Pitman family. She hates cats, thanks Pitman family. She is now totally off bathtime, but tonight she went to sleep with hardly any sadness. She loves squash and will not even consider peas. She says a dog says woof woof, a cat meows and a baby "waaaahhhs."

She's home. Sigh.

It's funny how aware I am of every touch. I don't remember noticing with the other 3 Punks when they rested their hand on my leg when we sat together. Or when they rested their head against my shoulder. With Sitota, she's still reserved with her affection, especially with Rob and I. So every casual touch is a little victory. A little indicator of trust and comfort. It's strange to be so aware of everything.

I'm also floored by the notes. I get notes almost every day from friends who tell me how much they look forward to reading about our progress. People I talk to fairly often, and others I haven't talked to in decades. It amazes me.

Thank you.

It's been 1 week...

2012-11-11T10:29:00.002-05:00

Today marks one week that the 6 of us have woken up under the same roof. Yes, it's surreal. Yes, we are ecstatic. Yes, we are smitten. Yes, we are working through struggles figuring out the new rhythm of our family.

Yes, the roller coaster ride of the last 2 years is fading. Yes, the flight home, like childbirth, is fading. No, we can't believe she is finally home. Except that we get to stare at her 24/7.

This honeymoon thing is pretty delightful. I mean, yes, we have had our sad moments. Moments when we don't know exactly what she wants and her frustration escalates. Times when we look into her sad eyes and can't seem to do much but be with her... but those are the rare moments.

There are the moments when she sees a dog, even from afar, and she is overcome with panic. Overcome.

But most of the time she is playful and silly. She likes books and blocks and she loves to play with the toy food. She likes being outside (except when there is snow), and usually does not want to come inside when it is time. She loves Lucy, Clay and Aidan. They are certainly her 3 favorite toys.

She's parroting a lot of English, but also showing some signs of comprehension.

She loves loves loves her baths. She always has, but now she lays down in the water and "swims."

When we were in Ethiopia, Sitota insisted that we feed her every bite of every meal. She's feeding herself 90% of the time, now. She still makes the kids feed her from time to time. I am pretty sure she does it just because she can. I got a text from Aidan when I was at the post office the other day. It said, "I figured out how to get Sitota to eat grapes. I'm peeling them." Yes... he was peeling her grapes. I'm happy to report that at dinner tonight she was eating grapes, skin and all. Maybe she would have if Aidan hadn't peeled any. Maybe not. She's a tester. She might refuse the first time it's offered, but then the next time, she'll ll try.

She loves eggs and pasta and pizza (thank you) and potatoes, and boy oh boy does she love squash. She does not love chick peas or meat of any kind. She was a big fan of the buffalo chicken tenders we got from Corsettis. Which makes me crave buffalo chicken dip.

She does not love when I mess with her hair. For now, we'll be sticking with the free 'fro with an occasional headband. I hope as trust grows she'll become more comfortable.

Same goes for sleep. She's still quite sad at bedtime and avoids the bedroom at all costs, but we think as she continues to grow in trust, she'll relax more into it.

How are the rest of us?

When the tree fell on the roof it caused some damage in the girls' room, so until the repairs are done, Lucy is sleeping on the floor in our room. It's convenient timing, because she would be there anyway :-) She's doing great, but loves to be close to us. She loves helping her little sister

Aidan loves that he's the first one home from school. He and Sitota have some quiet time, and they both really look forward to it.

Clay is more affectionate with Sitota than he has been with anyone. I love to look over and see them reading or snuggling together. Clay also has more Ethiopian pride than anyone I have ever seen. He loves to wear his shirt and hat and necklace to school :-)

Rob and I are good but still oh, so, tired. On more than one occasion last week I slept from 7:30 pm-6:30 am. Rob is working, but takes time to be with us every day, too. It's hard to get anything done around the house, but we are ok with that. The jetlag is a little easier this time with such a delightful little distraction.

We had some testing done this week, and are relieved that Sitota is in good overall health. Her mollescum on her neck is annoying, but nothing more.

I can't believe we are only a week in. When I put that frame around it, it looks pretty great.

Thanks, God.

The end and the beginning...

2012-11-04T21:04:00.000-05:00

Ok... I might have a few things to say. Shocking, I know. I have to write about our last day in Ethiopia. I'll probably gloss over the details of the trip home for reasons of self preservation. The horror! Oh, the horror!

But first I have to spin in a circle and scream, SHE'S HERE! She is really, really here!

Phew. She came home 2 years 25 days after I first met her. There were absolutely so many times when we doubted whether it would ever happen. But she is home now, and while I won't forget the heartache of the wait... she is here, and we're so happy to start building our new normal. Everything is new, everything is a first. Every single thing. Soon, we'll just Be.

Friday. Our last day in Africa. We had a quiet day at the guest house, packing, bathing... packing. We spent some time talking with the other 2 families that were there. We had lunch there and finished up our packing. In the afternoon, the women who work at the guest house had a coffee ceremony for us and another couple who left the same day... Also, fundisha! Popcorn! The coffee ceremony process is so time consuming. They start with raw coffee beans, roasting them over charcoal. When they are perfectly roasted, they walk around to everyone to get an up close and personal smell. Sandalwood is commonly burnt in a smaller burner at the same time. At the orphanages and care centers the grinding of the beans usually happens in a mortar and pestle thingy. It's not quite as authentic as that at the guest house... as we heard the electric coffee grinder... but it's still pretty far from Keurig. The coffee is brewed in a clay coffee pot called a Jebena. They serve strong coffee (buna) with sugar in small coffee cups called cini. I'm not a huge coffee drinker, but it is absolutely delicious.

After the coffee ceremony we were picked up by Dani and 2 of his friends. We crammed everyone and all of our luggage into Dani's little car and headed to Dani's house. It was so fun to be with these young people. We immediately sank into some fun conversations and got to know more about these twenty-somethings. Best friends for (literally) ever, one is finishing a computer engineering degree, the other about to start her medical internship, on her way to becoming a gynecologist. With flawless English, they joked and shared with us.

When we arrived at Dani's house his little girl came running right out to see him. She spent her infancy in the same orphanage as Sitota, but Dani's family adopted her when she was younger. We were so honored to join Dani and his family for dinner. His mother, grandmother, aunts and cousins were so welcoming and kind to us. We had a delicious meal and shared a lot of laughs.

Shock of shocks, it was incredibly moving for us. Dani's grandmother is so warm, with a beautiful smile and a warmth that closes the gap of the language barrier. She seemed to delight in Sitota. Showering her with blessings and well wishes. It was a feeling like no other to be hugged by this sweet woman. Oh, the warmth. Pure love.

Dani's been so encouraging during this process. He's helpful and fun when we are together in Ethiopia. He is smart, entrepreneurial, talented, and his life's mission is to “help the children of Ethiopia by telling stories.” He will be opening a daycare to support young families. He'll provide daycare and other services to help the orphan crisis by focusing on education and family preservation.

Dani's friends being at dinner with us was again, wonderful. Such fun. Masters of sarcasm. Beautiful, strong, smart, funny, and welcoming. In the car on the way to the airport we were tossing around our favorite animated movies. We agreed that Despicable Me and Finding Nemo and The Incredibles are all great... and we quoted the movies back and forth.

Then we were looking at a spanish language app. Rob and I both remembered some Spanish, and we laughed about how when we are trying to communicate with Sitota but are struggling, we fall into this combination of English/Amharic/Spanish thing. It's so stupid, but we laughed and laughed about speaking Span-mar-ish. We laughed about so many things. Another absolutely perfect way to end a visit to Ethiopia, brought to you by Dani.

Sitota was absolutely perfect on the 1^st leg of our flight. We left at 11 pm and went from Addis to Frankfurt with an hour stop in Khartoum. Sitota fell asleep in the first 15 minutes of the flight, and woke up in time for breakfast and disembarking. We weathered the layover in Germany fine and were so thankful for the umbrella stroller that our friends sent to us. There is SO MUCH walking in that airport.

The flight from Germany to Boston was tortuous from the start. She slept for maybe 20 minutes. Somewhere along the way, despite all of the love she had for Rob all week, it was all Mama all the time. Which would've been fine but she was freaked right out and completely spazzed out. Poor kiddo. I confess, I was a wreck for a good part of the flight... feeling a million times a flop. I knew that it had more to do with being sleep deprived and off schedule and the reality of mothering this complicated sweet Punk... but in the moment is was just sheer sadness that our girl was having such a hard time and I was questioning every little thing we had and hadn't done so far.

Oh, the poor plane. It was ugly. We suddenly and overwhelmingly regretted inviting our family to the airport. They'd be driving from Maine and Connecticut to welcome us home, and we were messy balls of goo. What a disaster.

We made it through customs and immigration, collected our bags, and walked out into the lobby. Everything washed away and all I could feel was gratitude that they were there. It was an incredible opportunity to share our new family with them. Like a really crowded hospital room after a long delivery. I am overwhelmingly proud to bring our daughter into this family- these families who make such inspiring choices to be together. To celebrate Family. There's no doubt that without the support of our families (those that came to Boston and those that couldn't) we wouldn't be sitting here listening to the crazy silliness that are our Punks.

Oh, the laughter! Oh, the noise! Oh, the joy! Oh, the way the Littlest Punk is wrapping her brothers and sister around her finger... A couple of highlights...

“I realized it doesn't really make sense to pretend my thumb is her nose...” -Aidan

The kids took her for a walk around our house- down the driveway and sidewalk in front of our house about 100 times. One Punk would push the stroller, but she wanted to hold the hands of the other 2 the entire time.

Lucy and Aidan have been playing a peek-a-boo game with her. They go up to the girl's room, then walk down the stairs counting each step, come down the hallway, Sitota pauses at the corner and peaks around and yells “Boo!” then she will walk sassily into the room, turns on her heel and says, “Ciao, Mommy. I love you, Mommy. Ewedechalu, Mommy.” Ewedechalu is “I love you” in Amharic. Sometimes it's a variation of those and a lot of kiss blowing and waving. Usually with a big smile, but occasionally with a fake crying voice. Oh, this kid. Aidan also taught her to make a mustache with her finger over her lip. I know, blink, blink, blink...

She's still been "off" of me, and today was no different- I was good from a distance, but upfront was another story. When the kids were doing their chores I brought her upstairs. She cleaned up all of her kitchen stuff (they played with the kitchen so much today), got her pjs on, and figured out the night-time routine. Funny the excitement when you teach your new punk to put her clothes in the hamper at night... anyway- we had a few minutes of great play- when she was trying to sneak by me while my eyes were closed. I would try to grab her and tickle her. Oh, that laugh. It was good, trust building, affectionate, silly play. Happy, happy heart.

Still surreal. Still will randomly take my breath away when I hear her call one of the other Punks, or see her holding one of their hands. When Clay was born, Aidan was 22 months old. When he came to the hospital to meet his brother, it was as though he'd grown overnight. He seemed so much older. That is true now, too. The original 3 punks are enjoying every single 1^st with their sister. They all seem to have grown a foot during the week we were away. They all seem older.

I added a folder called Sitota's home to my flickr site. I obviously didn't have a camera at the airport, so I am waiting for peple to send me some pictures. Hint hint.

Here are some highlights from the last day or 2...all from my phone. I have a lot of pictures to go through from the trip... I'll get to it...

http://flic.kr/s/aHsjCHx8sJ

Trip 2: Day...4?

2012-11-01T15:18:00.000-04:00

The What Day Is it? Post.

Thursday. We leave tomorrow. I am so ready. But I am so bummed. I am ready to see the Punks and anxious to introduce them to their new sister and sink into the honeymoon phase... deeply. I'm ready for a nice clean hot shower and a salad. On the other hand, I haven't learned enough Amharic nor absorbed enough of this country.

Have I mentioned the development? There are new buildings and houses being constructed everywhere. The roads are markedly improved since I was here in 2010, and Dani tells us that when we come back in 4 years the railway system will be finished, and all of the highways completed. I don't know why he said we'd be back in 4 years... but I am not ruling it out.

We got Sitota's passport and immigration and immunization information today. Done. Ready to board the plane.

Then Dani took the 3 of us out for a little shopping in the market, and to visit the Kolfe boys. I don't know how much energy I can give to writing about Kolfe right now. We brought a bunch of sneakers, played a little basketball, talked with the manager, listened to one of the boys play “One Love” on his keyboard, hugged some small people, and some taller people, made up some funny handshakes, and I stood stupidly not knowing what to say to the boys who stood around me in a crowd and asked, “please will you be my mom? I need a Mom.”

And we didn't even go to Kechene, where the government run girl's orphanage is. Far fewer guests, do, but when we went in 2010, it hurt, too.

Hey, visiting orphans isn't always easy. The basketball games are and the nail polish, and to some extent even the hugs, are. But when you feel the hand reaching to hold one of your fingers or your elbow or tell you that your frekles are Jesus kisses... Oh, I don't know. If feels almost stupid, sometimes to go and do so little.

And then you get family gifts from someone, ok an orphan, who writes to you about feeling comfort and encouragement because of a hug you gave him 2 years ago. And he writes things like “You are a real mama to all kolfe.” and you know you'll bring your stupid sneakers and go back and stand stupidly when you're asked hard questions. Because if that's the perception of what a real mama is, then... well.

Happy interlude: before we left the guest house a pair of 18 month old twins with the loveliest round chunka cheeks came into the house. They are on their way home to Washington. They are so yummy.

We were so very tired from our day so far, but friends Sally and Tom Baer and 3 of their delightful kids joined us for dinner. It was a busy night for the guest house, so we elected to go for pizza. It was nice to laugh and catch up. Wonderful to see how their children have grown in 2 years, and to see them all doing so well.

Sitota napped in the car a bit, but was tired when we came home. We bonded over bath time. She still prefers Rob to carry her everywhere, but she's sharing her attention and affection a little more freely. Bath time is Mama Time. Again after her bath she insisted on putting her shoes back on, even though she was wearing footie pjs. Chamas and pajamas... that's how we roll.

Hard to believe I get to be her Mama.

Trip 2: Day 3?

2012-10-31T15:30:00.002-04:00

Is it really only day 3? Time is so weird here. Today we decided we would mostly stay at the guest house and lay low. Nap, bond, etc.

I might have forgotten how much work it is to have a toddler, yo. We are exhausted. I know it has a lot to do with the many changes and transitions, but we are beat. Rob might have napped twice today... maybe.

It was another good day, we ventured out to do a little shoe shopping (Google: Sole Rebels) on our own. Well, we grabbed a ride from the driver, but we didn't have a translator come with us. We might have bought some purple shoes... and we don't mean for the girls. We stopped into the Ethiopian version of Starbucks and got some coffee and sweets to go. Everywhere we go people react to Sitota. Everywhere.

Today was another big transition for us. Our friends Autumn and Mihretu left for home. I probably mentioned M before- they were both brought to the same orphanage as infants. I met Sitota in Oct 2010, Autumn met M in July of 2011. We've both ridden the roller coaster and the kids transitioned to the care center together. Autumn went to court the week that we did, and now, finally, we came to get them the same week. Although they live in Nashville, we expect to stay connected and keep the kids connected as much as possible. They are a huge part of each other's stories.

The kids love each other, and I love and admire Autumn for following her heart and adopting as a single parent. She is a wonderful mom, and her boy will thrive in her home. It was super sweet today- Sitota was having a bath in one side of a double sink, M heard her and they came in and he bathed in the other side of the sink. They made one heck of a mess, but had a great time. We took lots of pictures and videos.

Sitota is definitely feeling all of these transitions, but boy howdy (did I just type that?) is she ever making progress. We had so much fun reading Goodnight Moon tonight. And making up games, and repeating each other. She is understanding and repeating so much English, and teaching us a little Amharic, too. There will be PLENTY of frustrating moments when we won't be able to understand each other, but she's learning so much so fast.

She cracks us up. She was sad after Mihretu left today, and we played quite a bit of charades to figure our what she was hollering about, It turned out she wanted another bath. So we gave her one, and after, when she got her pajamas on, she insisted that we put her chamas back on- her shoes. I am certain that she figured if she put her shoes on then we wouldn't make her go to sleep. Smarty pants.

All day she was asking to “see” Aidan, Ca-lay, and Llllucy on our phones. The time difference makes it so hard, but because Clay and Lucy had early dismissal today, we kept her up a little late so she could say goodnight. She hams it up for the kids- and loves to facetime.

Oh, I forgot to mention that it was windy today... so Sitota did not want to play outside. Wonder what she'll think of her 1^st blizzard...

Two more days here, and then a full day of travel to get home.

Trip 2: Day 2: Adoption day. Birthday. Sitota day...

2012-10-30T15:34:00.000-04:00

I'm tired... bear/bare with me...

So, Sitota slept through until the alarm went off at 6:30 am... 12 hours- despite the middle of the night texting about storm damage at home. (Everyone's fine and we have insurance. We will work it out.)

We hung out at the guest house for breakfast and soccer this morning. She was totally daddy's girl, but I got some smiles and we had great fun playing outside. Our friend Dani came over and Rob and I BOTH took back seat to him. Handsome, kind, patient AND he speaks her language... who could blame her :-) Toss in that no one on the planet has known Sitota for as long as Dani has, and you begin to understand their bond.

She still kinda seemed to be warming up to me... then Rob decided she should ride on my lap on the way to meet out adoption agency representative. That wasn't the best choice. She kinda cried and just sat next to me. Oh, well.

While we waited for the clock to tick we met some other families who are also here for embassy and/or court. It was really nice. Rob re-established his bond with her, and she fell asleep on his lap on the drive to the Embassy.

Embassy was quick and we exchanged pleasentries and details about the storm with the man who helped us. Boom Bam. 2 years, 3 trips, and a whole lotta pendulum swinging, and a two minute meeting finalized everything.

By the time we left Embassy, Sitota was playful and silly and fun. Dani took us out for a celebratory lunch at this beautiful restaurant close by... called... LUCY. The food was wonderful. I had Indian :-)

The entire luch Sitota was great- she let me feed her and was playful and we laughed a lot. After, Dani took some photos :-)

Next stop: the dreaded care-center goodbye. Sitota handled it pretty well- she did cry, but even by the time we got in the car, she had stopped. Melancholy, sure- but not crying.

We stopped on the way “home” to the care center and got Sitota a birthday cake. Then Dani stopped again to get her a special “3” candle. She was coming back around again when we came back to the guest house, and again let me feed her...

But after dinner was magic. Pure magic. We were blessed by the company of the family who has been checking on Sitota for us these past months. They knew her while she still lived at the orphanage, and at our request began visiting her at the care center. Their visits and updates were how I survived the wait. Seeing their children with her, reading C's updates became somehow essential. Many times I thought, I'll never be able to thank them enough.

Then a week or so ago I panicked about the logistics. I knew I had to meet them, to know them, to hug them... but I was afraid of putting Sitota in a position of having to choose between the family that had been visiting her regularly for months... or the couple who came once but then abandoned her again. That would... stink. For us, sure, but I imagine it would be hard for the other family, too.

Then, as suddenly as the fear came it left. I knew it would be great. And from the moment they walked through the front door it was. It was an amazing gift to share this table with these friends. I felt connected immediately to them, Sitota played lovingly with them. And I fell a little bit in love with this family who had given us so much these last weeks.

I LOVE that I will be able to watch their children grow though Facebook. I love that they can write to Sitota or send photos or videos. I LOVE that they are a part of our story.

As good as that all was... we also saw Sitota light up the world when they left. She was engaging and talking and saying the kids names and we quickly decided to try and catch our family. Auntie (Amy) got a call and Sitota was a laugh riot. “Hiiii Auntie, I love you, Auntie, kwass (ball), Aidan, Clay, Wooocy” on and on. Then we called the Punks and Meme and they got more of the same. Then NO ONE in my family was available (jerks).

So, she is running all around playing with Rob...“Mommy, I love you” she was signing and saying “more, please, “ she was saying “me beep beep again” to get in the stroller. “Hellllo Mommy.”

I decided to call my family one more time, and lo and behold I hit the jackpot when my mom, 2 sisters in law, and a handful of cousins were all together. They couldn't hear her very well, but they got to see her. I think we will try again tomorrow.

What an amazing day. Adoption day. Birthday. Sitota day... just intense and big. I don't know what I thought that this would be like... but today blew it out of the water.

Trip 2: Day 1

2012-10-29T14:02:00.000-04:00

It is October 29, 2012 at about 7:30 at night. I am so utterly exhausted, I have no business writing anything but... I think I need to write every day. So much and so little happen, that I'll forget. I forgot a lot from our trip in August.

Our flights were relatively uneventful, although the woman who checked us in was a complete jerk with a nasty attitude and it took me a glass of wine or 2 to shake it. I think the 1^st plane we were on from Boston-Germany was circa 1972. We were wedged between two other people, and if the person in front of us tipped their seat back we were practically resting our chin on their forehead. The next plane (Germany to Addis with a refuel stop in Khartoum was about 1/3 full so we were livin' large.) The flights were ontime and uneventful.

I kept picturing our return flight and how challenging it might be.

We got to the guest house around 10:30 pm, unpacked and slept pretty solidly until the prayer chants started at 3:30 am. They lasted until we got up around 6:45 am, at one point Rob woke me up so I could check to see if there was a radio on in the room. Yes, folks, he woke me up to hear the chanting. And we are still married.

Our plan was that our friends Dani and Tam would meet us for an early breakfast so we could say a quick hello to Tam before he headed out to Kenya for a conference. Then we would run over to Kolfe (the boy's orphanage) and drop off 50+lbs of great sneakers, give out a buncha hugs, and share some smiles... Unfortunately, the boys had decided to meet us at the airport the night before, where someone told them that our flight from the US was cancelled because of the storm... so, thinking we were delayed, they did not show for breakfast. Insert sad face. We love Tam.

So, the Kolfe thing had to be put on the side burner, and we hired a different driver to take us to see Sitota. We arrived at the care center and... honestly, it was a luke warm welcome. Can you blame her? We show up and shower her with love and affection for a week and then: SLAM. Gone. FOR FOUR MONTHS. So- she was NOT her usual exuberant self.

She started to warm up a bit- we showed her some pictures and some videos of the Punks, and some pictures and videos from our last trip... she was coming around. She definitely warmed more quickly to Rob.

In any case, we brought her back to the guest house with us. We have Embassy tomorrow, and the logistics of leaving her at the center were a bit too complicated. When we worked it out to ride back with her good friend Mirhetu, it made the decision much easier.

She wouldn't eat a thing for lunch- nothing, in fact, until she had a few pretzels in the late afternoon. But we played soccer, played with toys in the court yard, took a bath in the sink, she even got us up to speed on her potty training routine. Rob left us alone in the courtyard for awhile and after a bit she was laughing and playing with me- making funny faces for photos, playing soccer, etc.

Then when Rob came out, she was shunning him. It is utterly fascinating to me. It's like she can only be cool with one of us at a time. It varies who it is, but it is never the two of us together. Perhaps most people are like that... they like me and tolerate Rob, or they like Rob and tolerate me... certainly worth considering.

Mid-day we decided to call the Punks. It was 630 am and everyone was getting ready for school. We facetimed with them for about 10 minutes. I know they felt great about starting their day like that, and we were excited. We never skyped or facetimed with them when we were here in August, so this was their 1^st realtime interaction with their sister. I get a little choked up thinking about that. I was actually pretty happy that I could say to them, “She wants nothing to do with me right now, but look how comfortable she is with Papa.” And by the end of the call Sitota even waved to them and blew them a kiss. Maybe next time she'll shine that killer smile... it is such a gift.

There are only 3 families in the guest house, us, Mirhetu and his mom (our friend Autumn), Autumn's friend M, and another couple from another agency who is here for court.

Sitota ate a little bit for dinner, then went upstairs with Rob to hang out. She was clearly overtired and a bit freaked out. She rejected me and reluctantly let him kinda-sorta-comfort her, and she was asleep in minutes... At 6:15 pm... so we will see how tonight goes.

Earlier in the day, when we decided that we were going to leave the care center, and take Sitota with us, I told the head nanny, and her face fell. We'll be back tomorrow, I promised. “Oh, okok.” This is part of the loss that I've spoken about. Now Sitota has to walk away from the women who have loved her for the plast 5 months. And they have to let her. And in my heart I know that they battle with happiness because they see how we love the babies, and grief because we leave. We just go.

I brought some photos of the nannies from our last trip to leave with them. Tomorrow, I will try to take a photo with all of the Nannies and send it back to them, with photos of Sitota in her new life. Tomorrow, I believe, will be the hardest of our 6 days here. I fully expect that we will leave with her in a full blown tantrum. In agony. I'm crying just anticipating it.

But right now, the littlest Punk is asleep in bed. With that look of comfort and trust. And tomorrow we'll be sad together, and we will bask in thankfulness that we get to be here. That we get to be her parents.

We will celebrate her birthday with her tomorrow. It won't be elaborate, but we will really be rejoicing that never again will that day pass without a family to love and celebrate her...

Thanks, God.

And while You are doling out these blessings, please protect the Punks and everyone else, at home.

Leaving Eve

2012-10-27T00:51:00.004-04:00

It's like Christmas Eve I guess. We leave tomorrow. But I guess it's like Christmas Eve Eve because we won't arrive in Ethiopia until Sunday. But I guess really it is like Christmas Eve Eve Eve because we won't be with Sitota until Monday.

It's after midnight and we are mostly packed. We are bringing 3 large bags of goodies for Kolfe (the boy's orphanage), the care center, and some friends. Then we have our stuff packed in carry-ons. I think we will have 8 bags all together...

We have clothes that we hope will fit Sitota. We have a few toys and books that we hope will entertain Sitota. We have snacks that we hope will distract Sitota during our long trip home.

Really, who cares what we bring? Ok, except for the shoes. I am thrilled to be bringing 50 lbs of high quality sneakers for the Kolfe boys. Thanks for helping me do that!

But really, what matters is that Sitota, Rob and I will have 5 days together in Ethiopia. That's how much time we had last time, too.

But this time, there isn't the cloud of knowing we will have to say good-bye. No uncertainty of when we will be together again... (there are plenty of other uncertainties... but not that one.) JOY!

There is a weight though. Yes, we are incredibly relieved and excited and happy and euphoric, even. Our punk is coming home. At long last. Home to our modest lives. Home to our tiny house where we have been preparing to embrace her for the past 2 years... Euphoria... underlined by melancholy. By sadness. She's leaving her homeland.

I love Ethiopia. This will only be my 3rd trip, and I've never traveled very far from the capitol, and I don't pretend to understand its complexities or it's history. It is a complicated country on a complicated continent. There is a long, long history of the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia. Ethiopia is one of the oldest sites of human existence known to scientists. A history we can't comprehend from America. There's pain and poverty and loss (oh, the loss) and hurt. There's joy and kindness and for the love of it all, there is hope and opportunity. There is Joy and Hope and Opportunity. Yes, there is a sadness in taking our daughter away. With that sadness comes a great desire to honor this privilege and recognize the loss while still joyfully celebrating the gain.

I hope that we will raise Sitota to be proud of herself, her birth country, her name, the color of her skin, the strength of her voice, and all of the the gifts that she brings to her new country and to her new family. I hope and I truly believe that she will always continue to be the light.

And I hope and pray, as her second family, that we will reflect that light right back.

I can't blog from Ethiopia, but I'll keep sharing on the Facebook ;-)

Grief anticipated.

2012-10-21T19:57:00.000-04:00

Writing is like an anchor for me these days. Even when (especially when?) I mostly write for myself.

Sometimes I am in silent shock thinking that in only 4 days we'll get the ok to go get her.

Other times I can't believe I have to wait 4 MORE days to get the ok to go get here.

I've gone beyond the highlight real in my head... not anticipating each "first..." Well, not *just* anticipating each first. I think a lot about the logistics of our day to day and what that will look like. Teaching a toddler English. Feeding her hungry belly. Comforting her grieving heart. Showing her that this is forever.

And grief there will be.
Away from her nannies.
Away from her friends.
Away from her language.
Away from her food.
Away from her climate.
Away from her music.
Away from her culture.
Away from her life.
Away.

BAM.

Into a family who has been waiting desperately to love her. Waiting for 2/3 of her little life. Anxiously waiting to know her.

But the truth is, we are terrifyingly unknown to her, and separated by so many differences. It will take time, patience, and an astonishing amount of grace to make it to the other side.

And yes, bringing her home will be one of the top 4 moments of my life. But we are not expecting miracles. We are expecting exhaustion, frustration, heartache, and struggle. Parenting isn't for wimps, yo.

Sleep

2012-10-20T00:48:00.000-04:00

It's started. The sleep that isn't sleep.

I close my eyes.
Exhausted.
I sleep.
Almost.
Moments with Sitota dance with lists that haven't been made.
Just this side of sleep.
Anticipation dances with worry.
And the soundtrack behind it all is "baby, you're a firework..."
There's a romance in expecting:
The longing, the daydreaming, the potential.
The other times I fell asleep feeling the life inside of me.
Now, I feel the life in those moments just before the sleep that never really comes.

When her voice comes to me, and I'm there again:
Learning, listening, loving, all intertwined with longing.

Soon, sweet punk, you'll learn what family is.

Swing

2012-10-18T10:44:00.001-04:00

If this doesn't illustrate the highs and lows of Adoption-land, I don't know what will. Pendulum, roller-coaster, whatever illustration you use as your metaphor...

Yesterday, it was grim.

Today, they are hoping to interview someone we CAN locate, and they are hoping to do it next week.

What does that mean? It means it is looking good and likely that we will get our official Embassy clearance to travel to bring Sitota home one week from today. Let me say it again, it is likely that next Thursday we will get an email that says, "come and get your daughter."

I know- from the darkness into the light in 24 short (ok, that's a lie, they were very long) hours. No guarantees, no promises, but more hope than we ever could have imagined yesterday.

Hey God, thanks.

Thanks for all of your prayers and hopes and vibes and wishes and even your dreams. Please keep us in your mind as everyone prepares for and conducts the interview next week. We are so close. So close.

Delays

2012-10-17T19:43:00.001-04:00

When I decided last week that I would start blogging all things adoption, I decided I would try to be transparent about all of it.

Because sometimes people only talk or write about when things are going swimmingly and life is perfect. And then those of us with less than perfect days or lives feel less than. And that's just stupid because everyone is sometimes less than, and sometimes it helps to have that reminder. So, yeah.

I've made no bones about the fact that parts of this are exceptionally difficult. From the very beginning of when we started inquiring about doing a pre-identified adoption, it took some deep dark twists and we thought it just wouldn't happen.

But then things happened to open up and usher us down this path, and here we sit, hopefully nearing the end of this part of the story.

Then this morning, SLAM. Another delay. The specifics don't even matter that much, and I feel protective of Sitota's history. Suffice it to say, the embassy wants to interview someone whom our agency hasn't been able to locate. We provided the letter from the police and the ads that we ran in the paper, but still they ask for more.

It might just shake out that it was an error. That someone wasn't paying attention. I hope and pray and when I'm feeling optimistic, I even think that that is the case, and that tomorrow we will get another email saying, "Just kidding!" Or maybe our case will be processed differently and it will be a short delay and not the HUGE one that this has the potential of being.

But for now, the weight of every delay and every pause and every question that we've experienced in the last 2 years has taken up residency in my chest cavity. I'm tired. It's hard to breathe. I'm sad and feeling funky.

Normal stupid things, like breaking my phone and forgetting my wallet and buying a new dishwasher feel heavier that they might have yesterday. And the weight of the wait is multiplying with each passing hour.

People who've done this before us say that soon enough, when we're tucking her in and experiencing her tantrums and becoming a family, this wait will fade and the pain lessens. Like the pain of labor.

I'm just longing for that day.

I'm thankful for all of the support that you all have given us, and continue to give us...

Thank you.

Day 5: Goodbye

2012-10-14T20:34:00.003-04:00

Though I'd been dreading this day for months, it actually started out great. I woke up and creepily stared at my daughter, asleep just inches from me.

She awoke, sat up, and looked uncertainly around. Remember, she had gone to sleep in a different room the night before... This was the expression she woke up with (excuse the bad iPhone photos):

But within moments, she was her goofy self:

We shared breakfast in the room. She was a big fan of eggs. Shortly after she woke up, she joined Team Rob. She wanted exactly nothing to do with me, and would only allow Rob to hold or help her, or give her things. At first I was fine with it, after all, Rob had received the majority of her grunting for the previous days, and I was glad that they had bonded.

After another nice long bath, she busied herself with eating crackers and drinking ice cold water- which she was a huge fan of. She wasn't warming up to me, so I busied myself with packing. Every time I packed one more thing, the weight of our departure grew heavier.

I was just so sad. I couldn't imagine dropping her off and leaving for months. MONTHS. I loved Sitota for years. And while I yearned for her before our court trip, I'd grown accustomed to being apart. The last time I said good-bye, it was to one of far too many orphans. But now, I was expected to say good-bye to my daughter. Not an orphan. My daughter.

I packed with a heavy heavy heart. Rob, acutely aware of my heartache that Sitota wanted nothing to do with me, left us alone for just a few minutes. She still glared at me, so I ignored her, and took my camera out to take a photo of the view from our window. When I turned back to her, she was watching the camera intently. So I pointed it at her.

100% Ham. We proceeded to have a little photo shoot. Smiling, goofing, hamming it up. It was nice to have her laughing and smiling with me again. She was definitely still keeping her distance, but she wasn't grunting at me.

Maybe she knew that if she was super snuggly and loving than I would never be able to leave...

Dani came to pick us up to bring her back. Sitota was happy to see him. She snuggled in with Rob for the ride back to the care center.

I wish I had thought to take some pictures on the way back to the care center. It was pretty scary. I don't think I have ever seen rain fall like that. And while the roadways are being improved, there is a lot of work to be done. The care center was about 30 minutes from the guest house. At one point we were driving up a fairly steep incline, and the water rushing down the hill was up to the hubcaps on Dani's Toyota Corolla (circa 1985).

It was also dark.

Crying made Dani and Tam a little uncomfortable. We had talked about it earlier, and they explained to us that... well... **Generalization Alert** Americans- especially women- were cry babies and it often made Ethiopians uncomfortable. So, despite the darkness, I donned Rob's sunglasses in effort to disguise my swollen, red eyes. I could barely see. During the ride, I also explained to Dani that I was not goting to be able to talk when we were there, but I would appreciate it if he would thank the nannies for us. I felt like I saw pure joy when I watched Sitota interact with some of the women who work at the care center. Toddlers wear their emotions on their sleeves, as we had experienced 1st hand, and I felt like Sitota was loved and loved many of the women. It was Dani's job to express this to the folks at the care center, while I avoided eye contact and doled out the supplies I had brought for the kids.

And then it was time, and I didn't dare try to hold her. I went to her, tried to smile and say "ciao," and blow her a zillion kissed. I choked out "amaseganalo," and bolted for the car.

And as I shut the door, I am sure they all looked at each other and wondered why the sad American Mama was wearing sunglasses on the darkest day of the century.

Pause. Seriously, how did we leave? I still have no idea.

Dani and Tam took us out to dinner before we went to the airport. We were super silly. We talked about girlfriends and prospective wives. We talked about careers and dreams. We told jokes and we shared pictures on our phones. We told stories and laughed some more.

It was a perfect way to end a very difficult day.

Then Dani and Tam dropped us at the airport. In one of the many lines we were in, we were joined by a wee Ethiopian in a stroller whose little voice sounded exactly like the punk we were leaving behind. Reassuring to Rob, troubling to me.

And then, 25ish hours later, we pulled into our driveway in Maine. So anxious to see the 3 punks, so devastated to be without the littlest, newest, most Ethiopian punk of all.

And now, It is Sunday night. 2 months and 3 days since we arrived home.

I could write about the excitement and enthusiasm we've experienced in that time period. Or the fear and discouragement. Or the fatigue. Oh, the fatigue.

But instead, I am going to tell you about how I am going to climb into bed tonight and get a great night's sleep. That is a lie. I am going to wake up often, phone in hand, anxious to get the email from the United States Embassy that our case has, at long last, been accepted.

Amen.

Day 4: The Overnight

2012-10-13T23:14:00.000-04:00

Thursday we woke up, hopeful that Sitota would come back to the guest house with us for some time with just the three of us.

After Wednesday's roller coaster, I wasn't sure what to expect. We decided that once we got to the center, we would try to move kindof quickly... not linger... but I will be honest... I was scared. I had visions of her crying as we tried to bring her in the car. GAH.

Well... I walked through the door of her room and she was still in her pajamas, and I got a big smile. BIG. Relief flowed through me as I stripped her down to change her diaper and clothes... She was in the BEST mood- so happy- so playful... running away from me in just her diaper when i wanted to get her dressed... her lovely little lanky self swallowed up by her enormous smile. Hugs, kisses and laughter. Thank God.

So, we did what any insane new parents would do, and ran for the guest house! Instead of the crying that I feared, she was happily chirping "Ciao" to her friends and Nannies. I acted as her car seat/seat belt.

We had been thinking that we would just bring her back for a few hours, and then bring her back to the care center for bed. But in the car, with her snuggled up warm and close to me, we realized that if we brought her back after hanging out for the day, then we would be putting her through 2 potentially emotional goodbyes. So we decided we would play it by ear, but were leaning towards keeping her overnight.

When we got back to the room we read a few books and looked through her photo album. We gave her some applesauce. Some crackers... she was definitely nervous, but we got some slow smiles and snuggles.

She had a bath. There isn't a bath at the care center. She. Loved. It. The only toy she actually liked were these little stacking bowls with holes in the bottom of them. She stayed in the bath for so long. We played with her. We sat quietly watching her. We took her braids out and washed her hair. We let the water run and she was perfectly content. So were we.

After her bath we got her dressed in the adorable batik shirt that I found at Goodwill for $1.99 Thankyouverymuch and the smallest little capri jeggings I've ever seen. Oh, I died from the cute. We took her to the lobby for some pizza. (She mostly ate crackers and coconut cookies, and a roll.) It was the 3 of us, Dani, and another couple who were there for court as well. It was fun and she was in a good mood, curious and engaged. We went back upstairs to play for awhile.

It was all going splendidly... Then I accidentally took a nap. It happend when you haven't slept much in a couple of months and you finally lay down, watching your new baby exploring her new world. Contentment. Peace. Sleep. That, too, was going splendidly.

I woke up to the sounds of Rob and Sitota playing soccer and laughing in the courtyard. Now, she was 2 months shy of her 3rd birthday, and she looks around the courtyard, and puts herself square in the middle of 2 plant pots to tend goal. Laughter and happiness drifted in through the window. I just listened... and facebooked... They had such fun. It was the first time that she really connected or bonded with Rob. It was all good.

When they came in to come upstairs and the women who worked in the guest house started talking to her. They were full of smiles and animated in their conversation. And Sitota started gravitating towards them.

And away from Rob.

She was... a little freaked out I think. She'd had enough of the crazy white folks who didn't speak her language. So she panicked a bit.

She settled down a little as long as I was holding and walking with her. If I sat down or tried to put her down, she cried. I thought.... maybe it's too much. Maybe we should bring her back. Rob encouraged me to play it out a little.

So we turned the water on :-) She really settled down when I let her play in the sink. She loved the water. She came back after that, and we had a lovely dinner. We ordered out, and she had a bit of injera & shiro and we had something vaguely resembling lasagna... and then she and Rob played the "Daddy na!" game which I hope I will still remember when I am 643 years old.

That laugh? I mean, seriously. It is completely infectious. Delicious. Pure love.

After dinner, we read a few books and Sitota's eyes were getting very heavy. So we changed her into her pjs, snuggled up for some books and some prayers and she fell asleep with her Daddy writing on her face... the same way her sister and brothers used to fall asleep when they were sleep reluctant toddlers.

And then we stared at her.

And then I took a trillion pictures of her sleeping.

And we looked at each other. Our first night together. Finally. Dear God, finally.

It would be sweet if the story ended there, right? NOPE.

She slept with me. I was nearly asleep when I heard a weird noise in the room. I was reading with a headlamp, and it took a few minutes to figure out that the torrential rainstorm was no longer happening just outside the window... our ceiling was leaking in multiple spots.

YUP.

I had visions of the entire roof caving in. Obviously, we had no buckets... so we put out dry diapers to absorb the water, and started packing. Around midnight, we were settled into a new room on the floor below.

Sitota slept through the entire move :-)

Sweet sleep.

Day 3: Wednesday

2012-10-11T23:13:00.000-04:00

Before I do the day 3 recap, can I just say how cool my kids are? Clay has raised $1010.00 to put towards Sitota's airfare. His goal is $1500. He is just so awesome. He's selling cranes and origami.

Most of my recap is going to be pulled from the email that I sent when I returned to the room on Wednesday night... I tried to clarify some things and correct some grammar... but it's still a mess. That's ok... it was a messy day.

***

It's kinda weird to journal this stuff to you guys... but... it is what it is... I know at least a few of you wanted updates about how things were going. Parts of this are pretty heavy and I am just trying to spit it all out so... you know... stop reading it or whatever- or share it with your kids or... remind me of it when I bitch about the weather...

Today was hard and didn't go as planned. We spent the day with Tam and Dani, our guides and translators from my 1st trip. Our time with Tam and Dani was wonderful. They are so willing to answer our questions and help us to understand their culture- its beauty and its challenges.

Tam and Dani took us to Kolfe- the boys government orphanage for boys age 8ish-20ish. In 2010 I met a boy that I've kept in close contact with. D. is about 24 years old and has partial paralysis in his legs. He uses crutches to get around and he has a sponsorship to attend university. He's studying medicine. He had just came home from college a couple of weeks before (a 2 day journey), so the timing was great and I was looking forward to seeing him. He is very well respected among the boys and is somewhat of a leader. Our time at Kolfe was too short... even though we stayed too long- and it's impossible to leave there without being completely... moved, for lack of a better term.

The boys were happy to talk with us- and our friends helped us to ask lots of questions- nothing heavy- who likes soccer? what movies do you like to watch? what do you do for fun? what do you like best about school? we gave out a million hugs and took a bunch of pictures and showed the kids each one. We at least brought some smiles and laughter into their day. But how many times did a child tell me as I hugged him hello or good-bye, "Oh, Mom, I love you so much...." or "I will pray for you..." Mostly, they call all of the women that come Mom or Auntie. How many shoeless kids and shivering kids did we hug? (it was cold any rainy this morning- maybe 50 degrees). We met 2 kids with epilepsy- 1 of whom had just had a seizure.

I brought about 80 lbs of clothes and shoes for the care center- but we decided the kids at Kolfe were in greater need. Enough people go through the agency care center that at least they have shoes and clothes that keep them covered and warm. The support for Kolfe is different and a story for another day. I don't know enough about it to tell it.

D. told everyone for days before we got there, "My family is coming." (He has no delusions that we're bringing him home- he's 24 (he thinks- but he's not sure) but because I email with him back and forth and check in on him and encourage him... he has adopted us as his family. I worry about how it makes him feel that we are adopting this perfect little girl.)

On the wall of D's room there was a hand written message... Megin=hugger Yup, my name on the wall of an orphanage in Ethiopia. D. Calls me his "sweetie hugger" and once wrote to me, "Remember when you hugged me? No one ever hugged me like that. Thank you." And so, when we were there, there were a LOT of hugs. A lot.

We brought D to lunch- and another woman who helps him out had sent me some new shoes and professional clothes for him. We brought him a couple of new Maine T's and a new fleece blanket and a book he needs for school (entitled Diseases), a headlamp for when the power is out and he needs to study, whatever- a duffle bag... a duffle bag full of things- and a little $ from the other woman who sent all of the new clothes, and an itty bitty bit from us (like less than I spend on a couple of pizzas when I'm to lazy to cook....)- and what is the email I came home too? Not thanks for the lunch and the stuff, and can you get me some.... no.... "Hello dear mama and sweeti huger Megain , how is today for u? I'm so glad and very happy .Oh thanks God to help me for see and got great hug from Mama . If u can come and hug me . Say hello Rob.i miss u a lot. EWEDSHALEHU"

Ewedshalehu means I love you. Yeah- his written English isn't the best, but all he really said was, thanks for the hugs and I love you. I was wrecked, seriously... but back to the day.

So after lunch we went to the care center- we were hoping to grab Sitota and bring her back to the room for awhile. When we first got to the center I got an early hug and some snuggling time with Sitota- but she seemed a little off. I thought maybe she didn't expect to see Dani and Tam or something... then she got a little mad about something and ran to the Nannies for comfort (totally appropriate and understandable)... but she didn't "come back" so to speak. In speaking to the nannies, we learned that she had been looking for us earlier when some other families came to see their kids. We weren't there. No us. Punk was "off" because of that, and it makes sense.

As a matter of fact I had a Mama moment with her. She looked right in my eyes and I was very close to her and anytime I tried to talk to her or touch her, she would kind of yell/grunt. I was saying goodbye for the day, and she sure knew it- but she had no love for this Mama. She stayed with me though, when I grunted back at her and kept close eye contact and said to her... "You can be as mad as you want, I love you... " and maybe I said in 100 times. And the grunting got quieter. And the nannies didn't butt in- which was HUGE. I turned to walk away and got teary and when I got to the gate to get in the van, Rob noticed she and her Nanny were walking over. She clutched her photo book, but the grunting was done. More great eye contact when we said we loved her and would be back tomorrow- and my friends translated but didn't get too involved. No hugs, no kisses, but maybe optimism? Who knows what was happening in her little head?

Back in the room that night, I was feeling a little down about a few things that happened, and then I looked through some photos that my friend Dani took. I hope I will forever remember this moment and the 15 second right before the photo was taken- when my newest Punk came charging at me across the courtyard with her arms open wide and flew into my arms. She had a spectacular smile that completely undid me. And she let me hold her in a tight Mama hug. My favorite kind of hug.

Looking at the photos reassured me that while some parts of this adoption trip will be the hardest thing we've done, every step will be worth it. I had perfect faith.

Also, we introduced her to the itsy bitsy spider...

Day 2 (Tuesday)

2012-10-10T19:58:00.000-04:00

Tuesday morning started in the lobby of the guest house, where Rob accidentally witnessed the moment when a couple met their child for the 1st time. I came down a few minutes later. What a special time.

That morning was our court appointment. Rob and I, one other couple, and a mom and her niece joined us. Nerves were high. We walked into the waiting room and waited (and waited) for our agency's representative to show up. The room was crowded. We saw other couples that we had met on the plane. We waited. And we waited.

And finally we were called into a small room, all 6 of us, and the 2 representatives from our agency. The judge was young and lovely. Her English was impressive. She asked us simple questions...

Have you met your child?
Do you still want to adopt her?
Do you have children at home?
Have you started to prepare them for the adoption?
Will you teach your child about their Ethiopian history and culture?

And then, looking up from her papers she said something like, "Everything is in order. Your adoptions are approved. In the eyes of the Ethiopian government, you are parents, forever. Congratulations!"

And I whipped my head around, shocked. I expected for a few days to pass before we passed court. I very nearly said, "Really???" Instead, I walked into the hallway, and cried like a baby.

We rushed back to the guest house to change and pick up our other families, then rushed over to the care center to be with our daughter. We were so excited to spend the day with her and her friends.

What a day we had. The kids and nannies sang songs. We looked at Sitota's photo album a bunch. That night I wrote, "It is 5 pm, we are home from another wonderful day with Sitota. She's got the best little voice, loves "trot trot to Boston," water bottles, spicy Ethiopian food, and she's getting used to us."

We started signing "more" with her, and she picked it up quickly. She watched our hands carefully as we signed please, more, eat, cookie, and water. She knew something was going on.

Rob played soccer with the older boys in the courtyard. Oh, those boys. Eyes that melt you, and arms that hold you tight when they come in for a hug. "I love you, Mom. Thank you, thank you." They are charming and fun. Rob and I loved the way they hammed it up for the camera. Everyone's at a different stage of processing, so we can't share the photos.

When it was time for us to leave for the evening, I asked the director to explain to Sitota that we were leaving, but we would be back tomorrow. She looked right in my eyes with a sad little face and said "nay." Which means, "come," and she wrapped her arms around my neck.

And then I died.

Such an incredible gift from my sweet girl. It was humbling to see how joyful the director was at Sitota's response. She was so glad to see a bond forming. No where near as glad as I was, but there was serious joy in her eyes.

My joy was quickly curbed when I walked through the door and saw one of my friends trying to compose herself after saying goodbye to her infant daughter.

My heart fell... I pushed down my instinct to wrap my arms around her, and let her be. Then I decided distraction was the only course of action, and I put my (figurative) inappropriate pants on. As she climbed into the van, I sassily announced that I would be as mean as I could to her, because the last thing I would want in those shoes, would be kindness and compassion. Then I might have called her ugly.

I don't think I really did. Because she's gorgeous. But I did start a round of poop jokes, and tried to keep the conversation going. We split for dinner, and then gathered in the lobby chatting and laughing and whatever until it was time for them to pack up.

While we were sitting there laughing and bonding, we went over everyone's schedule. It was Tuesday night. More people would leave on Wednesday night. Then more on Thursday night... until Rob and I were the only ones left. Suddenly, I began to panic- overcome with fear...

How would I survive leaving Sitota without this "therapy" session?

Remembering our court trip: Day 1

2012-10-09T20:34:00.002-04:00

Before we depart to get Sitota, (soon, oh, please, soon...) I want to remember and reflect on our August trip.

We left Boston on Saturday afternoon, and arrived at the guest house on Sunday night. We got a few hours of sleep and went downstairs for breakfast. There we met some other people who would prove to be huge sources of comfort from that point forward. The "other families."

We climbed into the back of a van, maybe 12 of us, (including 2 girls who were on their way back to the care center because their parents were heading back to America to await their Embassy date). As we rode the 30 minutes to the care center. I had ants in my pants, so anxious was I to fast forward. It took so long. A long 30 minutes. We stopped on the side of the road and bought a goat for lunch. We rode with the very-much-alive goat in the way-back of the van. It was completely surreal.

Finally, we pulled up to the iron gate that separated us from Sitota. Our new friends had already been with their children. They literally cleared a path for us (and our goat friend) to get into the care center.

1 year and 10 months had passed. I am not sure I was breathing as I ducked beneath the many clothes lines that criss-crossed the courtyard. I didn't know where to go. I greeted the nannies and finally one of the women with us said, "she'll be in here."

And I looked up. Through the window, through the steel bars, and into Sitota's sweet but uncertain face.

The door opened and I knelt down before her. And she looked at me. She closed the distance between us. And she kissed me. I swear I died a little bit right then. My careful restraint left me. I dumped my bags and my jacket and I finally held my punk. I walked with her, I rocked her, I rubbed her head and stared in her eyes and I kissed her temple a million times. And she let me.

I have no idea what I said. That I missed her and that I loved her and that I was her Mama. Rob was right there at my shoulder and we were in our own little world. I was completely oblivious to the goat (AKA lunch), being prepared in the courtyard. I was oblivious to everything.

I don't know how to explain the fact that Sitota came right to me. Maybe the nannies bribed her. Maybe she thought I was someone else. Maybe... well, I don't know. But she couldn't have remembered me from nearly 2 years earlier. It couldn't have been a sweeter moment. Burned into my memory, for sure.

Soon after, we offered her the cute little doll and baby blanket we'd brought for her- but she pushed it aside. We brought out the photo album we made for her. Page by page we went through. Pictures of me of Rob of the 3 sibling punks. Pictures of me holding Sitota when she was only 11 months old. We went through them time after time. She ran to show her friends. She looked with the nannies. She wouldn't put it down.

She was friendlier with me than with Rob that 1st day. She was fairly cautious. The nannies wanted so much to encourage the bond that they bribed her. "Give your Mama a hug and I'll give you some candy." Bless them, they wanted to be helpful. We were able to assure them that we were 100% ok with her hesitancy. We tried to be careful not to push her, and we drank in what she was willing to give. We were just so happy to be together.

I think that night we went out for a traditional Ethiopian dinner. I think we skyped with the 3 kids at home. It was a near perfect day, goat and all.

I know I didn't sleep much anticipating our court appointment the following morning, and replaying every interaction with my daughter.

2 Years

2012-10-08T21:48:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow marks 2 years since I first met our youngest daughter. I look back on pictures, and it just seems like a dream.

Of course, I look back on pictures from 2 months ago when we were with her, and that seems like a dream, too.

Rob and I kept fairly quiet about the adoption right up until we were submitted for court back at the end of July. I guess in part it was self preservation. We have been through the ringer a bit since October, 2010.

But now, at the end of a weekend of family celebration, and on the eve of the anniversary of meeting Sitota, I feel like documenting some things. I should mention that it's been an exceptionally long time since I've blogged about anything, and I might have a lot to say. And my grammar will be off.

Since being submitted for court, Facebook has been instrumental in keeping family and friends up to speed on our progress. Immediately and rather intensely, people started responding to posts. Some people I expected, sure... but a bunch of people that I never expected were linking into our story. They were supporting and encouraging.

In Ethiopia I emailed our nearest and dearest with updates. We met other families. OTHER FAMILIES in the same place at the same point. Different stories brought them to Ethiopia... to adoption... but we quickly connected and the support from those connections was and continues to be... fuel. When I drop low, these are the people I reach out to- who propel me back up. They know. We can whine forever and they will tell poop jokes and quote bible verses and simply say, "Yes, I know."

I kept posting on FB from Ethiopia. And we were high on every moment we got to be with our daughter. And we were exploding with wanting everyone to know it. And when I posted this picture:

people liked it and commented on it and even shared it. And every time I shared a photo or posted something when we were in Africa there was a swell of support- captured in comments and "likes." We saw people connecting in one way or another with our story. And we felt encouraged. More than that, compelled to continue sharing.

And then we came home. And I continued to process on FB. Jetlag and remembering but soon PROGRESS! and more progress... and people kept clicking.

And I went to the brick and mortar school one day and other moms were asking me about our trip, and asking if we had news and their expressions were excited and their eyes were emotional and their words were empathetic.

And packages arrived. Gifts with notes, "I'm so moved by your journey."

And then things stalled out. Progress halted. And I whined. A lot. And FB felt it.

But our families and our friends swelled in support. Emails and photo bookings (fundraising) and checks. A "Celebrate Sitota" party that included questions and long emotional answers and generosity that bubbled up and overwhelmed me. The room got painted, the furniture assembled. Phone calls. Texts. Emails. More texts.

And words and actions made me believe that this was a story that was supposed to be told. That people opened up to hearing about it. That along the way people were anxious to check facebook- to hear news- to see progress.

I spent this weekend with most of the Carew side of my family. We were celebrating the marriage of my eldest nephew, and his wonderful bride. Sitota and 1 of my nephews were missing- and we did miss them, but we celebrated our family in a way that we haven't in a long, long time.

Aside: I had this image of my father sitting the the back corner of the room. Rejoicing for my nephew. Rejoicing for our adoption. Rejoicing for the celebration of our lives that manifested in a bunch of people with no dance moves shaking up the dance floor, and a game of pickle with a dinner roll... his glory.

The weekend wasn't about us- but it was. The bride and groom chose to shine a spotlight on Clay's Creations for Africa. Instead of wrapping up jordan almonds for the guests, they gave Clay a very generous donation. And they displayed his cranes beautifully in the entryway to their reception. It took my breath away... excuse the crappy phone photo...

Over the past 3 days people asked questions and wanted to talk about Sitota. And when we hugged goodbye they said things to me that brought the heat to my eyes. And they held on tightly. They knew, I guess, what I needed.

And the check, quietly slipped into a jacket pocket, and the nephew who looked at me and said very deliberately, "I think what you are doing is amazing," and the other nephew who said, "Bring my cousin home" and picking up of the hotel tab, the many many many words and symbols of encouragement have landed me here.

At home. With 3 of my Punks nestled into their beds, and another sound asleep 6,718 miles away.

And with words pouring out and tears streaming down.

Utterly thankful for this trip, and for all of the people who hold us up each day.

Amaseganalo,

Meg

Adoption: the 1st post

2011-03-09T16:36:00.000-05:00

Our family wants to adopt a child from Ethiopia. There. I said it. We are lining up our little ducks. There is a little more to the story than that, but really that is all that matters.

Lately there have been some rumors about Ethiopia halting adoptions. Right now they aren't more than rumors and predictions. I've just tried to keep my eyes on the prize and do what needs doing so that we can get started and bring our little one home.

But it's popping up more and more and I need to work through a few things. Obviously, I am not an expert on adoption or on the situation in Ethiopia. On the contrary it is all very new to me. I am reading and trying to learn, but many many people know a lot more than I do about the situation.

The problem:

Corruption, of course. Ethiopia hasn't signed the Hague Adoption Convention.

~From Wikipedia~

The main objectives of the Convention are:

* to establish safeguards to ensure that intercountry adoptions take place in the best interests of the child and with respect for his or her fundamental rights as recognized in international law;
* to establish a system of co-operation amongst Contracting States to ensure that those safeguards are respected and thereby prevent the abduction, the sale of, or traffic in children;
* to secure the recognition in Contracting States of adoptions made in accordance with the Convention.

The following is a quotation from the convention:

Intercountry adoptions shall be made in the best interests of the child and with respect for his or her fundamental rights. To prevent the abduction, the sale of, or traffic in children each State should take, as a matter of priority, appropriate measures to enable the child to remain in the care of his or her family of origin.

Stories of corruption, of harvesting, of lying abound. Children who are older than their paperwork states. Children whose parents are living or who have an extended family capable of caring for them. Children who were told that they were going to America to study but would return to Ethiopia often. "wrongful adoption," "fraud" and "intentional misrepresentation."

Lies.

I AM SO ANGRY. I'm so sad. Families deceived. Families destroyed. Families created on lies and deception.

I am angry because to respond to the orphan crisis there needs to be a strategic aggressive multifaceted approach to the situation. International adoption can play a small role in that approach. It is not the end all be all, but it can be a part of it. I am angry because what's happened is unethical and damaging and painful.

If part of the answer is to slow adoptions while systems are established to ensure that:

Intercountry adoptions shall be made in the best interests of the child and with respect for his or her fundamental rights. To prevent the abduction, the sale of, or traffic in children each State should take, as a matter of priority, appropriate measures to enable the child to remain in the care of his or her family of origin.

...then so be it. That is what matters. But please, if you pray, join me in praying that progress is made and that systems are established to strengthen families instead of destroying them. And that the victims of the corruption find peace. And that the children for whom intercountry adoption IS in their best interest are connected with their adoptive families soon. And that sweet S... that sweet S is reunited with her family... whether they are in the African countryside or right here in Windham, ME.

This adoption may not happen for us. But for the 5 million orphans who call Ethiopia home, I sure hope they fix what is broken and arrive at a place where ethical adoptions can resume.

You can bet I'm not done taking about this.

THE Book

2011-03-07T08:52:00.000-05:00

Want to shake things up? Read this book:

What story are you telling? from Rhetorik Creative on Vimeo.

Buy this book here. After you read it, you will buy this book for a bunch of people. I bought 2 last week alone.

Warning: this book contains information which may cause you to live a more intentional more purposeful life- it will make you think about your story. It will help you to live your story.