6 Months

Exactly 6 months ago, I held E in my arms for the first time.

A and I walked the path to the famous (hallowed, fabled, almost mystical to me) red gates of HH, the last travel group to do so. As we walked, I was so calm. So I thought.

After all, we'd done this before, right? Old pros. We'd joked all morning long about just walking up to HH, visible from the hotel staircase window, and meeting E early.

As we made our way closer, I could feel the energy in the air as all 11 families prepared to meet their children.

Then, we rounded the corner and the gates jumped into view. I remember gasping-- were we really here again?? A and I held hands as we crossed the threshold of HH again to meet our destiny.

We wait. Not patiently. As other families meet their children, I get anxious to meet my daughter. It was no spotting her from across the yard like it was with R. This time, it was naptime, and the babies were being brought out one at a time.

Finally, the transition home director motions for A and I to follow her. We enter the house and start up the stairs. A special mother holds a screaming baby, and just as I am thinking, "I'm so glad that's not T!" she stops me from walking another step and says in broken English, "T? T's mom?"

Oops. That IS MY screaming child. And then she was in my arms, a bundle of fury, terror, and anger. Do I dare tell you what I was really thinking? I guess so.

I was thinking that it had to be a mistake. This tiny angry girl could not be my child. Nope, the special mother was confused and handed the wrong baby to me. I look up in confusion at A, and I still to this day do not know what he was thinking at that moment.

We walked down the steps (we were 1/2 way up them) and out into the courtyard with our screaming baby.

We watch the other couples meet their children, none of which are screaming as much or as loudly as T continues to do. I was rattled. I was scared. I was worried. Had we made a mistake?

(You have to remember that our moment meeting R was the picture perfect gotcha moment, the one parents hope and dream for while they wait to be united with their children.)

T/E continues to scream. Loudly. Bloody murder. I try all my mommy tricks that always work with R, and none help. Rocking, patting, "ishy ishy ishy" ("it's ok" in Amharic), massaging her head (with weird stuff on the scalp-- ewwww). I hand her to A and the screaming continues. Finally, all the families are united with their children, and A (HH director) comes over to us.

She hold T close to her chest and repeats over and over a word I don't know. It sounds like she's saying "back" over and over again in a slow, deep, and guttural tone. It soothes the baby, and A hands her back to me.

And finally, I'm holding her and can look at her. I do not love her instantly like I did with R. At that moment, I felt so horrible for her. I knew how terrified she must have been being jostled awake from her nap and thrust into the arms of strangers who don't smell, look, or sound like what she's used to. I feel myself tearing up, but I do not cry.

I see she has a cute nose and that her skin tone is darker than R's and creamy soft. She had tiny, tiny toes, especially the pinky toe. She has something weird on her head, but we knew that from our referral information (note: it is some sort of viral thing; we know that now).

She's beautiful.

She's sweaty!

Is she really my child?????

We mill around with the other families, and I don't really know what to do. I guess someone takes a picture of us. I'm still holding this baby wondering what in the heck I've done...

As I reflect on the events of half a year ago, I look at how far we've come-- as individuals, as a family. A stranger-baby who wouldn't allow me to touch her while we were in Ethiopia is now my precious, sweet, darling, and dear E. A baby who wouldn't smile much for the first month now smiles constantly.

And, E and I adore each other. Time and closeness has healed the wounds we both had from our rough beginning. The memory is still there for me, but it no longer hurts. Scared and sick T has become my happy and smiley E.

These 6 months have not been easy. But, what in life is? But, thinking today about meeting E for the first time, I know that even though I was full of doubt then, E was meant be my daughter. And I'm so thankful that the crying baby from the staircase IS MY child and not someone else's baby girl.

My E, how I love you!