Five Years Later

Five years ago today Linc and I were on a plane en route to our babies in Ethiopia.  We'd been dreaming and waiting for the moment for so many years.  We'd fallen in love with the photos of Paulos and Meski.  We read and researched and met with others to prepare.  We'd phoned and emailed, waited for referral, court dates, updates and photos.  We'd fought for paperwork, medicals and visas.  I'd found a support team online of other people waiting for their children and others already home with theirs.  And we went in so unprepared for so much of this journey.  I thought we were finally nearing the end of the journey when we got the call that we had visas for the kids to enter Canada.  We got our tickets, we planned to meet Hazel and travel together, we re-packed our suitcases with clothing that we hoped and guessed would fit our kids (3 months after we initially thought we'd be traveling) and we left our oldest two at home as we flew across the ocean.  Little did we know, but the journey was only just about to begin the day we were brought together...

I remember standing on the steps of the orphanage, about to meet our kids for the first time.  Fear gripped my heart at what was going to happen next.  And just like before giving birth to our first two children, I remember saying "I'm so not ready... I don't know if I can do this..."  And as we walked into the room where we would meet, the air was alive with expectation.  There was something sacred in that delivery room.  There was fear, there was the unknown, there was hurt, and there was loss.  But, there was also love waiting to be found.  Waiting to be known.  Waiting to be lived.  Waiting expectantly in me, and at the time unknown in them.  And there was love that since then has been learning to grow, love that has been healing, love that has been taking deep roots and sprouting into life.

That love took time.  It wasn't instant.  It was learned.  And in a sense, it was earned as trust and attachment formed.  I remember longing for the chance to snuggle with my baby girl, to hold her and calm her fears and help her know she could be safe with me.  In Ethiopia she would scream for hours, my little anbusa (lioness).  Eventually at night she would come to lie on me and scream in my face for such a long time before giving in to sleep.  She didn't want me, but she didn't want me to put her down alone.  She would fight sleep, wiggling, crying, wanting me to stand and hold her so I couldn't set her down and leave her abandoned.  She was so tiny and so very scared.

this was the calm after the storm... the photos and videos we have don't capture the way it really was before this...

the first night she cried so hard and than lay down and fell into an exhausted sleep

The first days, months and year together were beyond the hardest thing that I have ever done or lived through.  We did not live the fairytale but rather real life hit quickly and hard.  Fear (or do I say terror?!) and loss mixed together with survival skills left us in hours of screaming, of rages, or sleepless afternoon naps and of over 4 hour bedtimes with both Linc and I working together.  Mixed in were giggles and growth, but the heaviness of the loss and fear color much of those moments for me (I don't plan to go into just how hard it was in this post, but I am totally open to emailing or talking with you if you are interested or going through this!)

at home... so glad they had each other

 And now, five years later, tonight I had the most beautiful gift.  Friends had been over and Meski seemed to be wearing down.  Her throat stated to hurt and then, after her friend left the house, she broke down in tears.  Her ear hurt and she felt so sad and so sick.  I cuddled with her in her bed.  I stroked her forehead, rubbed her back and watched her body relax.  Her breathing deepened.  Five years ago, or 1,825 nights ago I doubted we'd ever have these moments.  Tonight I reflected on the early months together when I'd sneak into her room at night to hold her or kiss her while she slept.  I'd pray for her and I'd cry for her hurting heart that had so many losses at such a tender age.  And I'd wonder why I got the great privilege to be her mom... and I'd cry for the woman who was her mom before I ever was but who didn't get to sit there holding this precious little girl.  And tonight, the tears once again fell as something in me filled my heart with such a fullness and such love for my little daughter... and the prayers went out for the hearts across the ocean who ache and miss this sweet little girl and her precious little brother.