Burden

Up to this point in the adoption process, I’ve told people that I’m so thankful that we’ve gone through this process already bearing the title of parents.  It’s been “easier.”  We know parenthood.  We’re not walking into this thing blindly.  And except for the times when we’ve had about six too many hands helping us “organize” our mountains of paperwork, or a chorus of ‘Father Abraham Had Many Sons’ echoing in the background during a phone call with our adoption coordinator, our kids have provided us motivation to work for an additional sweet blessing and pleasant distraction from the tedious wait. 

However, I believe this final leg of the process will actually be more difficult for us because we are already parents.  The mommy and daddy chambers of our hearts have already been flung wide open, and it nearly kills us to know that we have a little one on the other side of the world.  We have no naivety about what we’re missing as our baby progresses through the early months of life.  We know full well.  We don’t have a chance to cheer when she rolls over for the first time; we won’t know when she is able to sit up all by herself.  We’re powerless to help her if she needs help.  We wonder if she’s cold while she’s sleeping.  If her gums hurt because she’s teething.  If she has enough to eat.  We look at the clock and think about what she might be doing right now (the Eastern African Time Zone is 8 hours ahead of CDT).      

Mainly, we just want to have her here with us.  We’re hopeful and optimistic that she’ll get adequate care in the transitional orphanage that is operated by our adoption agency (where she’ll be staying for the last few months before she joins us at home).  We are trusting God to fill in the gaps (the same as we should do with the three kids who are already living in this house…because let me assure you, our care can be a little “gappy” at times).  And we find comfort in reminding ourselves that after all, she belongs to Him before she belongs to us.

Mother's Day

This Mother’s Day, my thoughts are prayers are consumed by a young woman on the other side of the globe.

 A young woman who isn’t holding her little one in her arms this Mother’s Day (in all honesty, they’re not even celebrating Mother’s Day right now in Ethiopia, though they apparently do celebrate something similar, called Antrosht, later in the fall, and she won’t be holding her little one in her arms then either).  For this woman, my heart breaks.

 A young woman who found herself in a situation for which no one would hope or wish, but who nevertheless decided to carry and deliver a baby; and in so doing she allowed me to be a mom.  Again.  To a precious girl who’s been in my heart for so long.  For this woman, I am grateful.    

 I don’t know a lot about this young woman or her story (though we hope to have an opportunity to meet her during our second trip to Ethiopia this summer).  My heart simultaneously grieves and rejoices for her.  And if motherhood is about love, and selflessness, and caring for your child in the best way you know how…well then she’s one of the very best moms I know. 

Theme Song

Wanted to share a song that’s been played frequently in our house over the past months.  It’s kind the theme song for our adoption journey.

Celebration

The day we got matched with our baby, we decided to celebrate by having dinner at a local Ethiopian restaurant.  It was the second time Ryan and I had been there, and the first time for our kids.

The food is served family-style, on a huge platter.  There is no silverware.  You eat with your hands (which I thought might be a draw for the kids).  The food is served with this flat, spongy bread called injera.  The idea is that you tear off a piece of injera and use it to kind of scoop/grab a bite of your food.  All the items on the menu have Ethiopian names with short descriptions in English.  We’ve always gotten the sampler platter, which has small portions of about eight vegetarian dishes, and three meat dishes (one beef, one chicken, one lamb). 

My experience is that Ethiopian food is SPICY.  Maybe there’s something mild, but I haven’t found it yet.  Even the stuff they describe as mild on the menu is hotter than I prefer, so I was not optimistic about how the kids would fare.  Suffice it to say, there is no “Kids Menu” at this place.

We ordered our sampler platter and enjoyed the African décor and music while we waited.  It’s really a quaint, ethnic little place.  And the staff is very friendly.  We told them what we were celebrating and they were very gracious.

When the food arrived, the waitress toured us around the platter telling us which entrée was which.  Each of us was armed with plenty of injera, and we embarked.  It was just as spicy as I remembered, and I was busily trying each item in an effort to guide the kids toward the less-likely-to-make-your-eyes-water dishes.

After two bites (both of which caused her eyes to close and an involuntary head quiver), our 2 year-old looked dismayed and inquired, “Why is this food so yucky?”

A few minutes later, following a bite of the chicken dish (which really did have some kick), the following exchange ensued with our 7 year-old:

7 year-old: “You know that smell after we launch a model rocket?”

Dad: “Yeah, it’s the smell of the sulfur from the engines.  Why?  Is that how this food smells to you?”
7 year-old: “No, but it kind of tastes like that.”    

 Thankfully, the kids were not obnoxious or rude, but they clearly did not enjoy the experience.  Though not real lovers of Ethiopian food, Ryan and I soldiered on and finished the majority of the platter (I think the waitress had to refill my glass of water 4 or 5 times during the course of the meal).  And, the kids filled up on injera (followed by bowls of cereal once we got home).