Rock To Wind A String Around

Of all the days surrounding our Ethiopian adoption, I find the day we left Ethiopia the hardest to write about.  We had a truly magical trip to Ethiopia.  No one was ill, our inconveniences were few, and best of all, Meklit seemed to like us well enough.

The 30th started fabulously.  A kind fellow traveler invited us to her hotel in the morning so we could have our first real showers in three days.  We had time for shopping, managed to cram all of our loot into our bags, and felt completely ready to take Astrid Meklit home with us.  We both had fallen in love with Ethiopia–I knew we’d be back, felt sure that we’d be able to share the abundant love of Abyssinia with both tots, especially Astrid Meklit.

By mid afternoon, we were on our way to Sintayehu’s office to settle our remaining bills, and to say goodbye to our treasured friend.  Sintayehu is a very busy lawyer for our agency but was pressed into service for the week to be our guide as well.  Despite a full plate of legal duties,  he scheduled plenty of time for us during the week, including a marathon-worthy day trip to Awassa.  It was hard to leave, to say ciao, but I assumed my big blubbery tears were just unchecked exhaustion.  Everyone else seemed fine, happy really, because we were off to pick up our children, but I continued to unravel in the back of the car.  I pulled it together by the time we got to Toukoul.  There were kids to hug, other adults to say good bye to, more photos to take.

It was very late by the time they brought the babies out to us.  Despite hopes of meeting with the doctor or nurse, photo sessions with the nannies, and formal farewells, it was quite late and really, it was time to pick up the babies and go.  Sweet K who traveled as an escort with another family took pictures as Meklit was brought to us, and don’t think that I wasn’t entirely gleeful to have her in my arms for good.  Within minutes though, I could feel my heart begin to break into a million little pieces.  As happy as I was to have Meklit in my arms forever, I knew the life she led, the life she had been intended to lead was vanishing.  The nannies who cried and waved goodbye,  the snug little crib in room 1, the  world full of people who look exactly like my daughter, all gone. I felt so guilty for crying as we left–I didn’t want a single person to mistake my grief for unhappiness with my daughter or the life she led.  In the instant Meklit was handed to me, the weight of my culpability was borne.   I’d never felt anything like it.  While part of me was so desperately happy to pop this baby in the sling and run back to the guesthouse to pack the last few items, the rest of me, the real me not muddled by the realization of a dream, understood clearly how much was being lost in service to my happiness.

Adoption, ethical or not, is a complicated arrangement.  That my happiness depends upon the suffering of others makes it hard to pronounce loudly, “adoption is a great way to build a family.”  I’m reminded again and again of The Ones who Walk Away from Omelas.  The joy I derive from my children, my family, the commitment I make to bridge, nurture and kindle, does little for those who grieve this loss, including my daughter.  A million reassurances that “mama comes back, mama always comes back” any time I pop into the bathroom independently or take a trip to the  grocery by myself will never be enough for someone who knows all too well that mamas don’t always come back.  As hard as she cries when I ‘disappear’, it’s easy to see that all of these tears aren’t for me.  As much as I’d like to celebrate ‘gotcha’  today feels a lot more like ‘tookya.’  As much as I long to write the good–the exhilaration, the giddiness of loving someone so very much, I need to share the hard stuff too.

2 years ago today, we woke in Addis Ababa after sleeping approximately 17 minutes–Sintayehu and the amazing Wendy were picking us up at 8 to drive us from the guesthouse to Toukoul to meet our girl.  Exhausted after the lengthy flight, and 2:30 bedtime, it was hard to sleep through the excitement.  I remember riding in the cool of the early morning, nose pressed to the glass as we drove through clouds of dust, herds of sheep, swarms of people.  Wendy & Sintayehu laughed in the front seats as people noticed my hair, pointed at their own, and smiled.  I was prepared to be overwhelmed–by odor, by emotion, by something, but all I could think about was meeting my baby.  The road to Toukoul smelled like spices, the sun was shining,  and every dusty shop along the way thrilled me.  When we pulled through the big rusty gate, I remember that Albert grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as we got our first glimpse of Meklit’s home.

We made small talk with the fabulous Melat for a few minutes–we had been in contact before arrival so I was very excited to meet her, and then we were taken to the family room next door.   We waited for an awfully long time, not really talking, just shivering in the dim little room under the trees.  After a bit, we wondered if we’d been forgotten–we’d been sitting for more than 20 minutes.  We heard older kids out in the yard and I wanted to go to the door to see them, but I was afraid we’d seem too impatient,  so we sat.  Another 10 minutes passed before a nanny came to the door with Meklit.  I thought she’d come in, supervise us, something, but instead, she thrust Meklit into my arms, smiled and turned back to the nursery.

Our initial moments together are only recorded on video–Albert had the video camera, I had the digital and neither of us thought to take any still shots at first.  I was too busy reveling in the loveliness of our daughter.  To be completely honest, I never thought, “wow, my baby is gorgeous” when we got our referral photos or updates. I knew I would love her fiercely, would think her the prettiest daughter ever, but objectively, I thought, “eh.”  It all changed the moment I met her–she was so much lovelier in person and despite being left in a room with strangers, she was surprisingly calm.    After 10 minutes or so, I made an effort to hand her to Albert.

The room was so chilly, we all shivered like loons, so we made the decision to take the party outside.  This early picture is a representative sampling of our first few days with our girl–calm, trying to make eye contact, but always with a straight arm to keep from getting too close.  We took a walk around Toukoul chatted away, and eventually went back inside.  Within minutes, after some soothing ear-rubbing on my part (something she still finds comforting) Meklit was asleep on my lap, Albert nodded off on my shoulder, and half way across the world, Elliott was tucked into bed no doubt sleeping as well.   I don’t think I’ve ever been more content than I was at that moment.  I couldn’t believe that Astrid Meklit would feel comfortable enough to fall asleep in my arms  (and okay, I now realize that it was a good escape mechanism, but for the moment, it felt so nice).

We came back later in the day, and while my gal wasn’t pleased about waking for visitors, she did seem pleased to see us.  This would be the pattern in the days that followed:  wary enjoyment,

and then excitement, followed by joy  when she saw us

Thank you Astrid Meklit, for opening your heart to us.  My world’s been a much brighter place since you arrived.  The air smells like spices,  the sun is shining,  and every dusty shop still thrills me.  It’s been a magical two years.   I am so lucky to be your mama.

I drove to the Tampa airport with my mom and Elliott.  I had been in Florida for almost a week–visiting with my parents, cramming some more one-on-one time in with Elliott, buying, buying buying all of the last minute things I would need for Ethiopia.   The county fair was in town during that week, so I took Elliott the night before I left for one more ride, one more game, one more night of my undivided attention.  I was so ready for this chance to parent two children, couldn’t wait to meet my daughter waiting for me across the world, but I knew what hung in the balance.  Elliott, for his part, was just glad about the three week vacation he was enjoying.  I knew he’d find the adjustment challenging, but at that moment, he was happy to ride, to play, to plan for the week ahead with Pops.

My mom brilliantly planned a trip to the Renaissance Fair on the day that I left for Ethiopia.  As I flew to DC to meet Albert (who was still in San Francisco to cram in one more week of work), Elliott and my mom picked up my sweet niece and the three of them spent the day watching duels and puppet shows,  fortune tellers, friars and knights, all while enjoying authentic elephant ears of the realm.  I flew into Dulles a few hours before Albert, and in both the Tampa airport and DC, I walked and walked, trailing all of my  heavy carry-ons with me, but determined not to add to the amount of time I would sit over the next 24 hours.  By the time Albert found me–I had walked for more than three hours and convinced him to join me for a couple more.

I am such a challenged traveler.  As someone with chronic migraine and all of its attendant gastro-intestinal kerfuffle, a life of routine with little variance seems my best hope to keep pain manageable.  A week of high-altitude, dietary changes, and huge time shift didn’t bode well, but I was determined to plunge in and deal with the side effects as they came.  Surprisingly, there were few.  A major migraine on Tuesday,  a few headaches, but that was it.

Here I am, about to embark on the journey of my lifetime, and I Couldn’t WAIT!

This weekend seemed like such a bust at first.  Albert couldn’t come home until Friday night, instead of Thursday, no exciting plans, lots of rain forecast.  Really, it seemed like the pits.  Instead, we surprised Albert at the airport, so we were able to bring him home ourselves, instead of waiting for the cab.  We got all gussied up changed into clean clothes and ran over to get him on Friday.  We stopped for a late dinner which was festive and unique–Albert & I usually have something to do on Friday nights.  We have dinner early and then leave the kids with super-sitter Angela, so a Friday night out is rare and treasured.

Saturday was bright and sunny–I left my family for the first time in 2 months and did a little shopping–Albert needed a new trench coat (his was mauled by Southwest’s overhead bin) I needed some concealer, and while I was at the mall, it seemed like a good idea to look for something to wear to EOR’s silent auction in May.  I found a great dress in a color I love (bottle green) and shoes for less than I had budgeted for a dress.  I flew home for a quick dinner before we went to the OSU mens’ gymnastics meet (you can see us on the Big 10 Network–we’re televised!).  Today dawned sunny and bright, so we swapped manly stories and ate waffles, we took a long walk in the woods and really, the whole weekend was just so much more than I hoped for.  We’ve spent many weekends servicing the house in the past 6 weeks, so this weekend off was indeed delicious.

Speaking of delicious, this week I hosted a Enqutatash planning committee meeting for some of the Ethiohio families we hang out with.  I made dinner, and knowing that my Ethiopian Orthodox friends would be fasting, I made sure everything was vegan.  Vegan dinner is so easy to do, but dessert is always a little more challenging.  I found a fabulous chocolate orange bundt cake at Fat Free Vegan and decided to give it a whirl.  I’m so glad I did–the cake was moist, flavorful and fat-free.  I’ve included the recipe:

Chocolate-Orange Cake
(printer-friendly version)

1 1/2 cups unbleached flour
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour (I used 3 cups of regular flour rather than  half and half)
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup cocoa
1 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 cup soy yogurt
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 1/2 cups water
1/2 cup fresh orange juice
2 tablespoons grated orange peel

Chocolate Icing:
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 tablespoon cocoa
2 teaspoons orange juice
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract (or 1/8 tsp. if double strength)
–plus extra orange juice as needed

Orange Icing:
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon orange juice
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract (or 1/8 tsp. if double strength)
–plus extra orange juice as needed

Spray a Bundt cake pan with non-stick spray and dust it lightly with unsweetened cocoa. Preheat oven to 350F.

Combine the flours, sugar, baking soda, salt, cocoa, and cinnamon in a large mixing bowl. Add the yogurt, vanilla, balsamic vinegar, water, and orange juice. Beat by hand or with a mixer on low speed just until well-combined, about 1-2 minutes. Stir in the grated orange peel, and pour into the prepared pan.

Bake for about 30-40 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes and then invert it onto a serving platter and cool completely.

When the cake is cool, make the icings. For each icing, mix the ingredients in separate small bowls. One half teaspoon at a time, stir in enough extra orange juice to make a drizzling consistency. Drizzle the chocolate icing over the cake, wait a few minutes for it to set, and then drizzle the orange icing.

Makes 16 servings. With icing, as shown: 198 Calories (kcal); 1g Total Fat; (3% calories from fat); 4g Protein; 47g Carbohydrate; 0mg Cholesterol; 294mg Sodium; 3g Fiber

While I made this cake with a vegan audience in mind, I’ll make it again soon, vegans in attendance or not.

While there’s no sign on the lawn just yet, the wheels have been set in motion.   Soon, Mary P will likely be on the market once more.

We thought this would be our last house, that we were finally settled, but we also thought that Albert would be working in town over the next few years.  When the economic landscape changed, so did the need for our house.  Albert is in DC for the long term, and it seems he will be offered a temporary relocation.  As much as I LOVE our house and our life in Cowtown, I love my husband more.  The last 15 months apart have been harder than I’ve been willing to admit.   No matter how you slice it, a broom closet and a great public  library are poor substitutes for a full time husband.

So, we’ve been raking and cleaning, and planting, and even wrapping books in an attempt to highlight the many assets of Mary Poppins.  We’ll miss this splendidly planted 4 bedroom, 3.5 bath 3500 sf beauty, * but not as much as we all miss Albert.

*abundant closet space, professional landscaping, ravine views–all part of the charm.  make your offer today!

If, like me, you are planning to hang a ‘For Sale‘ sign on your house soon.  And if, like me, you decide to do a little sprucing up outside, be aware that there might be creatures, murderous creatures, lurking just beneath the old dead leaves and wind-burned stalks.  I was clearing out some dead plants near our serpentine hedge and something popped out of the ground.  Kind of slowly, like it was winding up for the kill, like I had disturbed its slumber with my big bright light of a sun.  I wanted to keep working, but instead came in to post this public service bulletin give it time to go far away.

I need to find my rake, and maybe a second pair of gloves.  So um, I can do the job properly.

The entryway bookcase before…

and after…

As you can see, I had to wrap the books in brown paper.   It all looks so clean and neat.  Of course, taking half the books out of  the case (not my plan, but wrapping

the books takes FOREVER) and adding some decorative  items probably helps, but at the end of all of the wrapping, I think it was worth it.  I’m soliciting opinions though–tell me what you think.