Reflections

Two months ago today, I was landing in Ethiopia, preparing to meet my daughter. So much has changed in my life since that day. Bit by bit I am finally able to reflect on the journey, the trip, and the new normal. This post is mostly just me, reflecting on where we have been and were we are. Someone recently posted a question on our adoption forum asking what surprised us most about the journey. It really got me thinking and this is what is ruminating now...

I never thought the adoption process would take such a toll on me personally. I had read the Complete Guide to International Adoption and had the steps laid out and our plan in place. As a family we had discussed the plans around the dinner table and agreed we were ready for the ride. However, I am not known for my patience and this journey pushed me to my very limits and then a little further. I loved being pregnant, loved feeling the changes, growing and glowing. I assumed that adoption would have a similar effect on me emotionally though not physically. Boy was I wrong. This adoption took a toll on my body..I gained weight, and put myself through some major emotional turmoil. Having no control over the situation was so so hard. I plan, I execute, I look back and evaluate. Only on this journey, my plans, my time line, my needs were at the bottom of the heap. It was really a struggle. It helped immensley to have our adoption forum where I could vent with people who understood. There were also a couple of friendships created from there that will be life long relationships. But overall, I had to let go and let God and I don't let go. I hang on fiercely with every inch of my being. God knows this...and always patiently waits for me to finally let go. The other really hard aspect is when you are pregnant, everyone is bouying you up, carrying you along. In adoption, unless you wear it on your shirt, no stranger is going to give you a knowing smile, ask when you are due, or regale you with advice you don't want. Adoption can be a really lonely journey. In the quiet moments of the wait, the emotions of this journey are overwhelming. Realizing you are wishing and praying for a child who will lose their family, their culture, and experience more pain and suffering in their tiny life than your whole lifetime of experience can comprehend can be excrutiating times deep with in your soul. And yet you do wish and pray and wait and dream. Who will this child be? What will she look like? How much longer do I have to wait? Will I get to the end of this journey and wonder what have I done? or wonder why I didn't do it sooner? And it was within these times that I got to know myself better, made some amazing friendships, and deepened the faith that sustained me through the process.

That moment when we got the call that we had waited so long for will forever be kept in a precious place in my memory. I had finally let go. I had cried, I had prayed, I had let go. And God was right there. Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, and looking to see the area code was a true epiphany for me. It was my very own Easter morning, the time of lost wandering was over and there was new life blooming in my heart. I will always remember the looks of joy and wonder on the faces of the boys as we met them at school and told them they had a sister, and gathering around the dinner table...our journey coming full circle, as we opened the picture of our precious daughter's face. Her journey to us was ladened with loss and tears, and her tiny little body showed the battle scars. But she was a fighter and we were going to be a family...she was coming home to complete us, and we would now be home to her. She was my daughter and I already loved her with a fierce and amazing love.

Then there was the call on a bright and sunny afternoon in June. I was happily painting the mural in her room, finally nesting and dreaming dreams with a real little person in mind. It was the social worker and my heart stopped. "Is it a good time?" There were medical complications. My daughter, a world away, with out a mother or father to comfort her. This brought me to my knees. Dear God, we have come so very far, hold her in your hands until we get to her. Keep her safe, keep her healthy. Another very lonely place along the road. We were facing a medical diagnosis we hadn't planned on, for a child we had never met, across the world in a developing country. Frantic calls to Dr's, and family, all the while praying for answers. God continued to hold us up, we let go, and knew that no matter what we would face, she was our daughter and we would take on whatever challenges presented themselves.

And then we got the news we could travel. We would be traveling with the family that had become so very important to us along the way. We would be traveling the week after school started...perfect timing for our family. Again...let go let God. The night we left was really really hard. I thought I would be fine leaving the boys behind. They were in great hands, they were settled into school, but I was traveling a world away. What if something happened? What if we didn't make it back? Would they really be okay? Hugging them goodbye rocked me to my soul. I tried so hard to be brave...not to let them see my tears...it was so hard. But then we were on the road. We were heading to our daughter. We had a day of travel to transition from life as we knew it to the life we dreamed of. The travel was easy, and surreal and perfect for preparing to fill my heart with all that Ethiopia had to offer.

When we touched down in Addis, the tears were back. A year long journey had finally reached it's pinnicale. I was going to hold my daughter, I was going to hold her country, I was so ready to stop holding so tightly to my dreams and my heart. Africa took my breath away from the moment I first saw it. We were treated with kindness and care from the moment we walked off the airplane. As we drove through the crowded city streets, through constuction, and a light mist, Addis pounded with vibrancy. New smells assulted my nose and my eyes danced with all they saw. It was all I had imagined and so much more. It was a kalidascope of poverty and beauty and color and chaos, of mud and human need, and joy and grit. It was gorgeous, and humbling and it took my breath away. How did I ever get so lucky as to have the chance to weave this amazing place into the fabric of my family? And it was only the beginning....(more tomorrow, I promise!)