Hey kittens! Go share some love with Ali and posse. Their sweet family of three became a sweeter family of four today.
It’s time for another shower, I think!
30 03 2009
A migraine yesterday prevented me from saying anything the least bit intelligent about gotcha days or fabulous girls who make every day a miracle. I’m reprinting last year’s ‘Gotcha Day” post for the three people who haven’t seen it before.
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.
Next time you’re in the mood to purchase an all natural skin or hair care item, consider purchasing one from:
Give all for Love is an all natural beauty product line developed by adoptive mama, and friend to our former board member, Dawn Finley. Jill has pledged to make a 50% donation to one of three Ethiopian charities of your choice and Ethiopian Orphan Relief, Inc. is lucky to be among them.
Be beautiful. Give back. Be Love.
Thanks Dawn, for the heads up, and thanks Jill, for supporting EOR. I can’t wait to purchase some new hair products for my own habesha girl!
jumping into the Subaru for our 8 hour journey of joy back to Cowtown. I hate being out of touch for the day, but I’m sure when I emerge from this cross-country cocoon there will be all sorts of referral news to delight me.
Fingers crossed, applesauce!
If you are very very smart, you will strut (like my sweet girl, Astrid Meklit) over to Staci’s blog to read her incredible tale of WOW!
There aren’t words to describe my joy for everyone involved…
3 years ago today, I was winging my way to Ethiopia–the 9 weeks between referral and flight were a blur of frenetic activity–we had a weekend getaway, celebrated a boy’s 8th birthday, made an offer on a house in Cowtown, rescinded the offer, flew to SF for a week to find a house, packed, packed, packed, engaged movers, lived in a hotel, moved into our east bay house, unpacked, unpacked, unpacked, and then 7 days later, began the process of packing, packing, packing for Ethiopia. As excited as I was to meet my sweet baby, I barely had time to consider her existence–until I got on the plane. The 20 or so in air hours were spent crafting the life we’d spend together. I planned cosleeping and birthday parties, and Halloween costumes, and bubbles, and reading and library trips and fireworks and a thousand other special moments until I was so overwhelmed by joy that I burst into tears the minute the plane touched the ground.
And, I have to say that I got it wrong. Every idea I had of the delight that would follow was a mere shadow of my reality. The glory of raising Astrid Meklit surpasses my every fantasy–every day is filled with hair clips, and sidewalk angels (the lesser-known cousin of the ever-popular snow angel), and the AM version of Boom Boom POW!, reading, and library trips, and Enkutatash planning, and parades, and a commitment to EOR, and Halloween costumes, and dog underpants, and squirrel feeding, and popsicles, and a million other incredible pieces that make up our life together.
This isn’t to paint a rosier picture than reality presents–AM wears her emotions on her sleeve, so as quick as she is to love, she’s moved to tears equally quickly, she swallows batteries, takes off her car seat, has so many food allergies that make her difficult to feed, was incredibly clingy with me, only me for the longest time, and oh yeah, she won’t nap in the car.
But I mention all of this to remind everyone waiting just what you’re waiting for, because as amazing as I thought my life with my daughter would be, it’s just that much more. More than I ever imagined, more than I ever hoped for. LIfe with my girl is my dream multiplied by 47–everything I asked for, and more.
Thank you, darling daughter, for sharing your joie de vivre.
What will you be doing toward the end of next year’s cold and snowy winter? I hope you and 120 of your closest friends will join me at EOR’s first Dead of Winter gala. We’ll say good-bye to winter (and raise a good bit of money for one of EOR’s partner projects) with a costumed event. Attendees who arrive dressed as:
or:
or any other famous dead person could win fabulous prizes! Expect great food, great drinks, great prizes and great fun when you attend EOR’s Dead of Winter gala next March 5th, at The Wild Goose Creative in Columbus OH.
You’ll feel warm and fuzzy all over when you attend–what better way to drive away winter’s chill?
If you have mad skillz (or a hidden diamond mine) and would like to contribute an item for the event’s silent auction, please, please, please let me know. Thanks kittens!
I took the kids to a St. Patrick’s Day Parade this morning (you might recall that a certain girl is VERY fond of parades). We were appropriately decked out in verdant hues–the little queen even had some green ribbons in her hair. I parked a million miles from the route, so we had a long but pleasant walk to the horses! which are the most important part of any parade going experience. We passed a lot of people, most of whom chatted up my tots. One woman waiting at a light with us, tried to engage Astrid Meklit. She talked about the parade, agreed that the horses are the best part, and then asked Astrid if she was Irish. Somewhat evasive before this question, AM yelled, “NO, I’m Ethiopian!” We laughed, and the woman persisted, saying everyone’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day, and again the small habesha gal cried, “No, I’m only Ethiopian!”
How she knew that Irish was similar to Ethiopian I’ll never know, but Astrid Meklit (and everyone else in her vicinity) know she is an Ethiopian girl!
Day full of computer tasks and paperwork ahead of me, SO I chose to work outside. It’s 69 degrees and intermittently cloudy, what choice did I have?
One of the three members of the posse was particularly happy about the turn of events. She got to wear her new rain boots, “even though it is not raining because they are good for keeping the mud off my feet AND the driveway.” Thank goodness she saved us from the universal scourge, DIRT: on the driveway! Not particularly helpful with the rake or with stick clean up, she dug 50-11 holes for the bugs and worms, rode her trike for the first time in 4 months or so, tried out the skateboard of the brother, and set up a picnic table so she and Elliott could have lunch al fresco.
Albert, who was gone an extra 2 days this week, isn’t due home until 9, but this trip outside makes the wait almost bearable.
Thank you spring for coming when you are most appreciated 
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