Indescribeable

How can you describe the indescribeable?



How can you capture a life changing event?


How can you put into words, the feelings and emotions of meeting your child for the first time?


How can you? How can you, when you don't even understand the power, the beauty, the love that you felt.



You can not name the feelings you have for the people who have loved your child before you. Love. Gratitude. Those words are not enough to describe what you feel for these people. They have become a part of your family. You will keep them in your prayers. You will repeat their names to your son so that he will know. He will know how truly blessed he is to have had them in his life even for a short time. He is blessed because of them. You are blessed because of them.


You can not put into words how the country of his birth has captured your heart. The beauty and the ugliness tug at you. You have touched the earth. The soul of the country has seeped into your bones, wrapping itself tightly around your heart. A part of you belongs to Ethiopia. You would not have been complete if you had not gone there. You would not have known who you are and what you were meant to do. You ache for the land, for the people of his country. You yearn to go back to help, to be helped. You will tell your son what his country means to you. You will help him understand that he is blessed to have come from such a place, such a people. You are blessed because of Ethiopia.




You can not describe the joy you feel because of your son. Your heart leapt out of your body when you saw the face you had only seen in pictures. His face. The feel of his body in your arms was the most beautiful feeling ever. Even as he cried and pushed you away, you knew that this boy was meant to be yours. You saw glimpses of it in his eyes. You waited patiently, knowing that he would understand. You knew that he would feel it to. The moment he first smiled at you, the moment he touched your face, the moment he fell asleep in your arms, the moment he began to trust you. These moments are what you had longed for. These moments made the months of agony, of waiting, disappear. These moments made you a family. You are blessed because of them.



You can not say exactly how you found something that you thought was lost forever. You found faith. You found belief. You felt the faith in the families you were traveling with. You saw the nannies' belief that they were fulfilling a calling by caring for our children. In all that you saw and all that you experienced, you understood and you believed.

The only thing that you can say is that you are not done with the adoption journey. The moment you saw the children in the Durame care center, something that had been gnawing at you for the entire trip became clear. You are meant to do this again. You are meant to love another child. You are meant to go through this experience again.

Not for Lion

Now that he has gotten used to us, our little Lion is quite the active boy. In fact the phrase I've said the most recently is "Not for Lion! Not for Lion!"

Let's throw everything off the nightstand. Not the clock! Not mommy's glasses! Not daddy's inhaler! Let's open and close the closet door 100 times. Let's throw the remote control across the room. Oooh look a camera. Not for Lion, give mommy the camera!

It is going to be an interesting experience for Bunny to have such an active brother. I have a feeling that she will not be pleased. But I know she'll get used to it, eventually.

He is ours!

We took custody of Lion today. I am the happiest momma in all of the world. He is such a beautiful and sweet boy. I cannot wait for you all to meet him!

Reminders

Part of my anxiety over this trip to Ethiopia to bring Lion home is leaving Bunny. She is my first baby. She is my heart. She is the only child that I have held in my arms. Its going to be difficult to leave her. I will miss her.

I think she is experiencing those same feelings. As much as she loves Ama and Baca and loves staying at their house, she will miss us. She is scared of us leaving her for such a long period of time. She is scared of the unknown that a new brother will mean in her world.

So we are both anxious.

For a long time, I have carried a small rock in my pocket. Its a reminder to keep myself centered. Its a reminder of the important things. Its a reminder just to breathe in and out, to just be.

Whenever we go to the beach I look for new rocks, small and smooth. I like these new rocks because they remind me of the day we spent together as a family collecting them. When we took our trip to Door County last month I enlisted Bunny to help me search for new rocks.

"Why do you want rocks, Momma?"

"To remind me, honey."

"Remind you of what, Momma?"

"Of today. Of our family."

We found several perfect rocks. I placed them in a pile on my dresser, waiting for the right moment to use them.

Today was that moment. I selected a smooth, perfect rock. I got out a sharpie and wrote "Mommy" on one side and "Daddy" on the other. I gave that rock to Bunny and told her she could take it with her to Ama and Baca's house. Whenever she started to miss us, she could look at that rock and know that we loved her and were thinking of her.

Then I let her choose a rock for Frink and myself. We wrote her name on our rocks and placed them in our pockets. We told her that we would carry those rocks with us while we were gone to remind us of her.

We may be separated for a few days but these rocks will always remind us that we are a family.

The Same But Different

Have you ever taken a big trip? A trip to Paris, to New York or even to Blog Her?

In the days leading up to your trip, you are filled with excitement, anxiety and dread. Excitement because the trip is going to be fun. You are going to a place you've never been before. You anticipate all of the things you'll get to do and see, all of the memories you are going to create.

Anxiety because the trip is so big, so momentous. You prepare like you are heading into battle. You make lists. You double check the lists. You add, subtract and add some more. You pack. You unpack. You pack again, for the 37th time. Do you have everything you need? Have you forgotten anything? You check the list once more.

Dread because the trip is so big, so momentous. You worry about all the things that could go wrong. What about this? What about that? This is the trip of a lifetime. It has to be perfect. It just has to be.

Have you ever felt like that?

Then you know a fraction of what I am feeling right now.

Once Upon A Time

Once Upon A Time, there was a family of three. There was a momma, a daddy and a little girl. The family loved each other very much.

Every year they would take a trip together to celebrate their being a family. The family lived in a state shaped like a hand. They would take their trip to the thumb of the hand and it was good.

Every year they did the same thing. They stayed at the same hotel. They went to the same parade

and they went to the same restaurant where a train brought your food

and it was good.

They also took the same bike ride through the same park


and it was not good. Although the park had many beaches to explore, the little girl would have rather played with her legos in the hotel room or swam in the pool. She voiced her displeasure with the bike ride very vociferously "I'm the little girl", she cried. "You are the parents and you have to do what I say."

The parents tried to tell the little girl that was not the case, but she would not listen. The bike ride was ruined and the parents resolved never to do that again.

However, peace was restored in the land for the hotel had a pool. The little girl loved the pool and all was right with the world.

The little girl also loved animals so the parents took her to a farm. At the farm she was free to interact with all number of creatures. There were goats

and kittens.

And it was good.

The family loved their vacation.

They promised to take another vacation next year with Lion, their newest member. The little girl promised not to feed her brother to the cows and all was good.

One Week

Months (years) of agonizing waiting comes down to this, one week.

On June 9, 2010, one week from today, Frink and I will be on our way to Ethiopia. Our long, long journey to Lion will be over. We will meet our son for the first time on Friday the 18th.

It seems unreal to be typing this. I will see my son. I will hold him in my arms. My son, my life, my love.

One week leads to a lifetime, to forever.

One week.