A Year

Today marks a year since we received our referral for E! As my friend S put it so well, she was so tiny, scared, and completely gorgeous. She was all that and more. I was at work when I got THE CALL on my cell phone. I'd just changed the ringtone to this completely crazy one the night before because we knew we were "unofficially" number one on the list.

The phone rang and in the same second, I was out the door of my office and running up the steps to my friend H's classroom. My case manager kept trying to tell me the details but I wanted her to wait so I could get some paper.

I burst into the last few minutes of H's 7th period class and could only say her name, unable to really speak with the emotion of the experience. No matter, she understood what was happening, shooed some students out of her workroom, and got the team camera to take some pictures of me while I spoke to J.

I heard the details of my E's story, which I'll leave private for obvious reasons. J said she was going to send an email with pictures. I hung up and called A to tell him he was a daddy times two. We waited for the email with pictures, which seemed to take forever. I text one word to my family and friends-- "REFERRAL!"-- as my hands were shaking so hard.

And, finally, the pictures came. Only 3 of them, but it didn't matter. What did matter was that we had a daughter halfway across the world. I can't describe what it is like to get a referral. I can only say that is the most emotional experience of my life. That night, we went to our favorite local Italian place for a celebration dinner and stared and stared and stared at her pictures.

A year later, she's been home nearly 10 months, and I can't really remember what it was like without her. We celebrated at that same Italian place, this time, a party of four, and my E ate a mountain of pasta and meatballs.

My E, I love you so very much. You are light and joy and goodness all rolled into one, and I am so very thankful that I am your mother. It has been a year since you became a member of our family, and I cannot wait to see what the future brings. Love you forever!

IDK

I've been sort of MIA recently. I feel like I have no time for anything at the moment, including blogging. Despite being rather unhappy work-wise, the weeks do fly by, which is helpful.

The girls are doing pretty well. My E is such a little darling love. She is so affectionate and sweet. My R cracks me up. At nearly 3, I never know what's going to come out of her mouth. Sometimes she drives me crazy, but we are not struggling as much as we were even a couple weeks ago. If you ask her her name, she'll say, "Umm, Cinderella." She's obsessed.

My dear husband has been talking a lot about "our boy" lately. He "jokes" about starting the process again in a couple months. I finally asked him if this is something he really wants to do. As much as I would like to say I am, I'm just not ready. At all. Most days, I feel overwhelmed with the 2 children I have already.

Which leads me to my next point. At my recent doctor visit, I talked to her about some symptoms and long story short, I'm going to have some blood work and x-rays done to see if I have an auto-immune disorder. I really don't think I'm being paranoid in thinking it is possible that I do have one. One of my best friends has one (R.A.) so I have watched how it affects her over the past few years.

Some cute pictures of my girls soon! (Maybe this weekend if I have time...)

Small Gift in my Inbox

Two more pictures of E at age 9 months, which brings the total to 3!

She's saying, "Would you read me this book, please? Look how cute I am with my giant, beautiful brown eyes! How could you resist me?"

W, THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Every Fall

Today, my R said two very precious things:

ONE:
"Mom, I'm soooo proud of you!"
"Aww, that's sweet, baby, why?" I reply.
"Beedu you've been weawy good dis week!"
"Thank you princess!" I say with a smile, and we give each other a big hug.

TWO:
"I weawy lucky beedu I have a mom a dad an' a sister!"

It is in these simple moments I find such joy in being R's mom. And in the back of my mind, I'm always thinking of HER-- R's birthmom, Y-- who misses out on all these moments.

It's fall now, or nearly so.

The past 2 falls, R has been home with us.
The past 2 falls, R has had difficulty. Our social worker told us once that children who have experienced trauma often relive some of that experience around the anniversary of it's happening.

Without going into details of my daughter's private story, my R was born on Nov. 12, 2007. She was referred to us on Dec. 7, 2007. Obviously in those few short weeks of her life, she experienced the loss of her birthmother.

Knowing how attached my child is to me, I can only imagine how scared my tiny baby must have been as this was happening all around her. Honestly, I try not to think about it too much because it is hard. Very hard.

I think often times that people think I'm being silly when I say that I think this is what R is experiencing. They remember that R was just 3 months old when we brought her home, and they think that babies that young can't possibly understand or experience grief/loss/trauma.

BUT. THEY. CAN. and do.

My daughter's attachment to her family is secure; in that I have no doubt. But in the fall, she always regresses a little. This always manifests in sleep issues. Her first fall home, this meant that she would wake at 10 or 10:30pm every night and stay up until 3 or 4 or 5am. Her second fall, she would often need to come to bed with A and me and would wake frequently.

This year, it's happening again. For months and months, she's gone to sleep on her own, no problem at all. About 2 weeks ago, she started having to come downstairs multiple times before finally staying in bed for the night. This week, however, she's added to the mix by waking up many times during the night. Each time, whether before I've gone to bed or waking me from a dead sleep, she says (in a pathetic voice), "I want to be wit you, I weawy want to be wit you."

My poor child. In her own way, she knows that something is missing but is still too little to understand what. I think constantly of our decision to adopt and of Y's decision to make an adoption plan for her. I love her so, so much, my R, and I can't imagine life without her now. But I think, too, about Y. How does she cope with this loss?

Undoubtedly, R's quality of life is better here in the US with her momma and daddy. There is no question that we can provide far more for her than Y could.

But in these months, when my child tries to work through her grief and loss in a way only a small child can, I start to have doubts, too.

I want so very much to be the RIGHT choice for my child. But with all my child will face because she was adopted and seeing her go through this mourning period...

And, so, my child's insecurities become mine, and we will get through this difficult part of the year. Together.

My dear sweet precious R, I love more than you could ever know or possibly understand.

Culture Camp Photos

A few pictures from camp last weekend. Many of the ones I took have other people or their kids in them so I don't feel like I should post them on my blog!

My little family at the Ethiopian dinner. Everyone was dressed in their ET finest! (The dress isn't mine-- borrowed from my ET friend F. A and the girls are wearing their ET clothing we bought in country.)Above and below: R had her hair braided by a few of the ET woman at camp. Boxbraids and loose in the front with corn rows into a ponytail in the back. It looked adorable!

Below: This is E at one of the last stations we did at camp. She looks so cute in this picture and so tired, too. Shortly after this picture, A took her to go take a nap!

On a side note, I want to comment on a couple of the comments left from my last post. I don't want anyone to think I was offended by what the little girl said. Nor did I think she was being judgemental. My point was simply that sometimes it hard to be a "different" family and always stand out. I assure you that I answered the child's question with kindness and know she meant no harm. It gets tiresome to never get a break from being the poster-family for transracial adoption. Sometimes I just want to take my kids to dance class like everyone else and NOT stand out! Especially after a long day and week of work. I just don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about how I handled the situation.

Orange and Brown

It happened tonight at dance class.
My first question from a little child about why my girls and I don't "match" on the outside.

The little girl looks at E and me while we watch my R dance.

"I don't understand how she is your daughter. She's brown, and you're orange."

I reply that she's my baby even though we don't have the same skin color.

"But how?"

I tell her that you don't have to have the same skin to be family. That E didn't come out of my belly like she and her twin came out of her mommy's belly.

"Why? Why is it like that?"

I sigh.
I explain that E's daddy and I decided not have babies in my belly and adopt them instead.

The little girl seems satisfied with this answer and runs off to play with her sister.

This little girl only asked the questions I know a lot of the moms are dying to ask. One admits tonight that she saw us at the nearby outdoor mall when the girls were playing in the fountain there.

I think often about the path my life has taken since A and I made the decision in March 2007 to adopt our children instead of having bio children.

Some days, like today, I just wish we were "normal" and that we didn't stand out. I didn't feel like answer a child's questions about my girls' skin color today. I didn't realize that through our adopting, my family would be a permanent and very visible walking advertisement for diversity and transracial families. I just wasn't aware of it.

Does this mean that I would change the course of my actions? I think the answer is no.

Yep, still here

Culture camp 2010 is over. It was a blast, but I'm also glad to have a break for a couple months before we start planning for 2011. I'll do a post with pictures 1) when I have time 2) when I find my camera. (It's around here somewhere.)

Sooooo work is the same. The "update" is that I will continue to be banished to exile for this school year. The principal from my home school met with the curriculum director last week, and the meeting didn't go well. Every day is a struggle for me right now when it comes to this aspect of my life. At least today is the last day of August, which means one month down. Yeah, pessimistic is my middle name right now.

E's had a rough past few days. R, too.

I'm so very tired. Time to go to bed. Good night!

This Week...

... has been hard on various levels.
1. Just the re-establishing of working routine.
2. E is having some issues adjusting especially. R is fine.
3. Work isn't going well.

I'm feeling pretty miserable and hopeless right now about the whole situation. I know it has to get better in some way because, well, if it doesn't, I don't know that I'll be able to survive the year.

Yeah, I know, it's dramatic. But that's where I am right now.

I mean, seriously, judgemental much?

Ok, so R had her first real dentist appointment yesterday. The hygienist is a fellow adoptive mom. She has two teenage AA girls, and we chatted nicely about our girls' hair and beads and braids-- benign stuff like that.

Then somehow the conversation turned to where my girls are from. Ethiopia... And her attitude (as well as her expression) changed. She said, "yeah, I know some people don't like open adoptions and you don't have to worry about that with international... And my husband and I just saw that there are so many kids HERE who need homes..." She said more along the same lines, but I can't remember it all.

At first I didn't fully understand what she was saying because our conversation had just taken a startling turn. I wasn't expecting her to react in that fashion, not one bit.

I mean, seriously, judgemental much?

I would like to state something for the record and for this woman, too, although I know she'll never read this. I would give anything to be able to regularly email my girls' birthmothers/birthfamilies, send them pictures and letters, invite them to my girls' birthday parties. The fact that we have zero contact with our girls' birthfamilies is something I struggle with. I did NOT adopt from Ethiopia so I could have a "closed" adoption. As I have said before, I adopted from Ethiopia because that is where my girls were.

Meaning, it is no accident. I cannot even begin to describe to you the peace I felt the day we decided to adopt from Ethiopia. It was one of the most RIGHT decisions I have ever made in my life. Did we consider domestic adoption? Yes, we did, briefly. There are multiple reasons why domestic adoption wasn't for US, which does not mean that is not for other people.

I know cases in which domestic adoption was/is the absolute most perfect and right decision for families. And I harbor NO judgement for people who adopt domestically. In fact, I think they are amazing. But I think people who adopt from ANYWHERE are amazing, so there. International adoption was the right decision for us. Just like for my BF, having bio children was the right decision. Or so many families I know, the right decision is a blend of the two. Families are grown in so many different ways, and I don't think one way is superior to another.

Yes, there ARE kids "here." But there are kids all over the world who need homes. When it comes down to it, does it matter? Who cares if you have to drive 2 hours in the car to bring your daughter home or fly halfway across the world to do it? There is a need for children to be adopted domestically-- of course-- but there is also a need for children to be adopted internationally.

Ok, so my point? Get to it, right?

My point is that I didn't expect a fellow adoptive mom to be so judgemental about our adoption plan. I know that there are plenty of people who do not understand international adoption, and I just simply hadn't encountered a hostile reaction to our adoptions from someone else who'd adopted.

This woman doesn't know me. She doesn't know my heart. She doesn't know how I lie awake in the night sometimes trying to picture what E's first 8 months with her birthfamily were like. Trying to picture the sound of her birthmom's voice... Or wondering if R's feet are like her birthmother's or her birthfather's. She doesn't know what led my husband and me to adopt or to select Ethiopia as the place our family would grow from. I wonder if R's birthmom knows that my agency's transitional home has moved and if she has the photo book I made and carried to Ethiopia for her. There are so many unknowns, shadows that haunt me. This woman, she knows nothing about any of that.

And she sure as heck doesn't know God's plan for MY family.

Good Bye, Summer...

... you have been good to me. Tomorrow marks the end of summer for me, as my workday for school is Friday. We are to be at the HS at 8:30 sharp for the district opening meeting.

It has been just a week since I learned of my reassignment to only one building. The principal at the other building and I have talked several times since then, and she is fighting for me. She has a meeting with the curriculum director (who made the decision) next Thursday or Friday. Until then, I'm stuck where I am.

Honestly, I don't know what will happen. I'm trying to have peace about the whole thing and the grace to handle this situation well, regardless of the outcome of that meeting. I haven't cried in days, although I do feel on edge and sick to my stomach when I allow myself to think about it or someone asks me about it.

I have been spending the week trying to do fun things with my precious babies and just enjoy them as much as I can. There has been a marked improvement in R's behavior, and that is helping so very much. Tomorrow, R has a dentist appointment and her first dance class of the "fall." After that, the girls and I will go to H's house to watch the season finale of So You Think You Can Dance and mourn the end of summer. I can pretty much guarantee there will be wine and chocolate involved.

Never Before Seen Picture

Someone who brought her son home while E was in Ethiopia sent me a picture of her from their trip today. I believe this picture was taken in November, so at the time, E would have been about 9 months old and had been at our agency's home for about 4 to 6 weeks. This is the only picture we have of her at 9 months. She looks great in purple, huh? Call me crazy if you must, but I think she recognized her bed, too!

Some Thoughts

After going to our agency's picnic this past weekend and some other things... I've been thinking a lot about "stuff" and the miracle that is adoption. Honestly, this post is a long time coming. It has been floating around in my brain for a while.

I think a lot about R and E's adoptions and their referrals. All the things that led up to our receiving referrals for these so very perfect-for-our-family girls. In R's case, a family that had been one spot ahead of us but was on both the boys' and girls' lists decided to take their name off the girls' list... Thus, putting us in the perfect place for R to be our daughter. And they have a son who is perfect for their family.

In E's case, my friend H had told me what she "saw" in a dream as far as what E looked like and who she would be... (She also "saw" R's birth in a dream and was spot on as far as R's appearance, age, etc.) I think sometimes about how she could be so right about one child and so wrong about the other-- especially when H's dreams are pretty much always accurate. But, you see, there was a little baby who spent a few days in the hospital before she was referred to an amazing family, and I can't help but wonder if she hadn't been sick if we would have been matched with her instead of them (they were behind us on the waiting list)... This child fits H's description of E exactly, but as fate, as God would have it, this wasn't our E after all. She was meant for another family, and our E was meant for us... To be honest, I don't know if she came to my agency's home before E did or the same day or what.

I think about the friendships and the changes adoption has brought into our lives. The experience of going through the adoption process, traveling to Ethiopia, and parenting transracially is something can never fully understand until you experience yourself. Parenting my girls is not always easy... Some of this is adoption-related and some of this is just simply part of having children, but I am so very thankful for them.

And I'm thankful for the family of fellow adoptive parents I've gotten to know and have in my life.. part of my family, too. I love that my girls can run around and play with other little Ethiopian children. I love that I have been able to travel to Ethiopia 2 times and that Ethiopian culture is now part of my life. I love the support of other adoptive moms when things get tough.

Some people don't understand adoption... or why someone would adopt internationally... or why someone would adopt transracially. To them, all I can say is that my girls are just as much my children as if I had carried them for 9 months... we adopted from Ethiopia because that is where our girls were... and lastly, although I know there will be challenges for our babies, we cannot imagine two more perfect girls for our family.

Well, I didn't see that one coming...

Sigh. I went to a meeting this morning with one of my principals. Or so I thought. The curriculum director also came, which wasn't something I was expecting.

Seems they've been discussing my position and have made the decision that I will only be working in one building this year... the building in which I received some really awful survey comments last year.

I was dreading returning to that building even part time this coming school year. The fact that I would still be in my home building was what was saving me. Now, everything is wrong. I'm going to be there full time and will not have the safety of my home building to fall back on.

I feel like this is going to kill me. I felt humiliated in that building and don't know how I am going to work there full time. I have looked for other positions, but as it is Aug. 4, there are no openings for my licensure.

On the bright side, I was able to type this without sobbing hysterically so that's a plus.

Away for a Few Days

UPDATED WITH THE REST OF THE PICTURES

We got back last night from a trip to visit a dear friend and to attend my agency's regional picnic. We had a pretty good trip, aside from some crazy girl behavior from my R. The girls did a great job in the car, and we visited a zoo and a couple museums before the agency picnic. Here are some pictures from the trip! They start with the last thing we did and end with the first, but I'm not going to try to put them in the opposite order. :)

Below, my E modeling the Africa shirts and hair clips I had made.

I think my R looks so very Ethiopian in this picture. Something about the way her hair frames her face and the expression on it.

My girls getting to know my friend P's daughter, S. They loved swinging with her on the swing in the back of the house. S was so sweet to my girls, and I loved seeing both her and her momma. (Her daddy is overseas fighting for our country right now.)

At the science museum, playing in an ambulance exhibit. Moments later R pushed E right off the seat. Ahh, sisterly love at its best!

Humm, I don't think letting R have a mallet is a great plan, do you?

R is fascinated with buses, so she was very excited to see this at the science museum!

"I'm from here-- 'Opia!-- Daddy!" my R says with pride.

Here, my girls look at the giraffes in their giraffe shirts. (Just take my word for it!)

My little Ethiopian princesses worn out from their day of going to the zoo (101 degree heat) and an art museum with a kids' play area.
Mommy and her sweet little E. She is so very precious.

A is not amused by R's behavior at dinner.

At a rest stop on the way there-- R is leading E back to the van.

Just in Case You're Having a Bad Day...

... here are some cute little girls to make you smile.

No Matter How I do this Girl's Hair...

... I LOVE IT!

Pause

Exasperated the other day, I said to R, "R, why do you have to follow me EVERYWHERE??!?"

(As in to the bathroom, to get a shirt from the laundry room, to get the mail from the mailbox, to well, everywhere! It was driving me crazy. I'd spent the morning practically constantly tripping over her)

And do you know what that two-year-old of mine said?

"Beedu (her made up word for because) I love you."

My R and I, we've been struggling lately. She's stubborn (and two!) and so am I. She's trying to assert her independence, and I'm trying to keep her safe and healthy.

I don't know if her near-constant defiance is adoption-related, two-year-old related, both, or neither.

What I do know is that it is exhausting. And stressful. Overwhelming, never-ending, sometimes just scary.

"Beedu I love you."

Honey-baby, I love you, too. And I pray that I can be the mom you need.

Ethiopia Trip: Days 7-8: Packing, Saying Good-bye to Ethiopia, and Coming Home

Dec. 31, 2009

New Year's Eve 5pm

My beautiful daughter sits on the bed playing. She's really rather rejecting me right now, but that's ok. I know it will pass.

Today we saw the new HH. Amazing! I cannot believe how truly beautiful it is and how perfect it is for the children. Who would have thought they'd be able to find a compound with two houses?

I got to finally hold Miss B (my dear friend S's daughter), too! She cuddled right into me. She was precious, and I was so glad she didn't cry when I picked her up. I, however, did cry. Just an emotional experience for me to finally hold her. A took a few pictures, but they're not that great.

R (friend in the travel group) and I went to the Mapping Authority. We got there at 12:29, and 12:30 was lunch so they couldn't help us. A man did find the director, and he gave us his contact info to buy them when we're back in the States. The cab driver took us back to the shopping area to see if one of the men on the street selling maps had one with the children's birth places. No. Their villages are too small.

Seven hours left in Ethiopia. Across the street, a celebration. Two large tents, live music, and the loud calls the Ethiopian people do. Woman in traditional dress. A boy stands outside, jumping to the music.

We leave Ethiopia soon, not to return for probably a long time. However, Ethiopia-- life here-- will of course go on without us. Hustle and bustle, extreme poverty and wealth both, adoptions of the "prize of Ethiopia," all will continue. I do love Ethiopia and its people, but I am ready to be home...

Jan. 1, 2010 Coming Home-- Family Day

And, with that, my friends, I am finished with my travel journal from our trip. Considering we got home 6 months ago-- TODAY-- it is about time. I will try to fill in a few holes from our travel and arriving home.

Our flight left around midnight. Happy New Year to us, right? It took forever to get check in and through security. As we were leaving customs (immigration? IDK), the Ethiopian man behind the counter said, "Happy New Year!"

At 2am our plane took a scheduled stop in Sudan. T was still up at that point. I was exhausted.

Once we got back in the air, the flight attendants gave us all a glass of champagne to celebrate the new year, as it was now a little past midnight in Europe. (Couldn't serve it on the group because Sudan is a "dry" country.)

We made it to Amsterdam without much fanfare. It was nice to have a break between flights. We said good-bye to the people in our travel group, as we were the only ones flying to Minneapolis next.

The flight from Amsterdam to the States was hard. T/E didn't sleep much and, well, the giardia... it was bad. We nearly ran out of clothes, diapers, and wipes. We did have a bassinet seat, but T only spent a small amount of time in it.

We sat next to a woman and her mother who were bringing home her daughter. 18 months old and clearly having major issues. She screamed a lot. It was clear to me that the child also had some sensory issues and was parent shopping. I think I was able to convince the mom to take the child to an international adoption specialist-- not just the regular pediatrician-- to get them all the help they needed.

We got to Minneapolis, and it was cold. We had a several-hour layover so we found a TGI Fridays to have a meal after we got through customs, which was a total breeze by the way. It took about 5 minutes at the most.

Although I had been texting my family and friends during our trip, this was the first time I'd made a call since we'd left for Ethiopia. It was so wonderful to talk to my R!! While we were eating, T peed through her diaper, clothing, the baby carrier and onto my pants. Honestly, I didn't even care at that point about my pants. We changed T into her last outfit (I think we went through about 5 or 6 on the way home) and hoped we could make it home before she destroyed it.

We made it to our local airport on a tiny, tiny plane. We did not have anyone meet us for a few reasons. First, we were so very tired. Second, we wanted to drive T home in quiet. Third, due to our difficult time in ET, we didn't think she'd react well to many people being there.

A went out into the freezing evening to get the van while I waited for all our luggage. I managed to get it all off the belt and out by the door as A pulled up. We put T in the car seat (no prob) and made the 25 minute drive home.

Ahh, home. My parents brought R home to us. I had thought about asking them to keep her another night, but I missed her so much I couldn't stand it. T was exhausted, too, so she and I fell asleep on the sofa while we waited. I woke to the doorbell ringing.

My other baby was now home!!! My R, my sweet and beautiful girl. As I held both my girls in my arms, I remember being so happy to have my whole little family home. R was excited to meet her sister and kept saying "Hold. Hold E." It was the first and last time she held her sister, but it was precious.

My parents left soon after, and we put our TWO girls to bed. Both slept in their rooms, although I would have had T sleep in our bed if she'd wanted to.

One last side note, the flight home was a bit of a turning point in E and my relationship. She definitely still preferred A for a while after we came home, but on the flight her only choices were A or me, and A couldn't hold her for the entire 26+ hours of travel! She slept on me for a lot of one of the flights, and I think that started the process for her to be able to trust and love me, and, well, vise versa, too.

I know this is long, but it is the end of our adoption story... for now.

Twilight, here we come!

Tonight I am going to see the premier of the newest movie in the the Twilight saga, Eclipse. The theater is also showing the first two movies, so we get to see these, too. I'm so excited! Two of my dear friends are coming with me, and I am looking forward to spending time with them (sans kids) as much as I am seeing the movie. It is going to be great to do something fun and silly with my BFF! (Yep, I'm 15 today, and I don't care. Back to being a mom in her-- gasp-- thirties tomorrow.)

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!