Cuteness. Extreme Cuteness.

Ugh, so frustrated. I've been trying two nights in a row to upload some recent pictures and have not been able to do it. I promise that the pictures are indeed extreme cuteness.

You were celebrated. And loved.

My E at referral at age 8 months. (The youngest known picture of her.)

My E at her 2nd birthday in Feb. (Amazes me sometimes that these pictures are the same child.)

I'm in the process (along with some other ET adoptive moms) of planning this year's culture camp. We had a meeting on Sunday, and we had invited some of the ladies from a nearby Ethiopian church. Two of the ladies from the church are not in fact Ethiopian, but a mother and daughter who have spent a lot of time in Ethiopia (both speaking Amharic and might as well be Ethiopian with everything they know about the culture and how much of their lives they've given to Ethiopia, etc...)

Anyway, we started talking about Ethiopian traditions and culture and how much more of an emphasis there is on the cycle of life in Ethiopia. Like how when a child is born, he or she is celebrated by the whole community-- everyone congratulations the ENTIRE family, not just the new mom and dad. Why? Because the family has gained a child. If someone dies, there is now another person to take their place. Children are adored, celebrated. Family stays and helps the new parents (new mom, really) for a good month, and the new mom is pampered. People celebrate the child in a way that we don't necessarily do in the United States.

It made me think about my E's birth. (I know "a lot" about R's birth in comparison so I don't have to infer as much there.) Did her family celebrate? Did everyone stay and help her birthmom as she adjusted to a new baby? When E cried, was she doted on by family members? Were her needs met? Was she adored? Loved?

Likewise, when she was relinquished, was she mourned? Did her birthfamily wail and cry for her as if she had died? Could you hear the cries from a quarter mile away? Do they think of her? Cry for her still? Miss her still? (How could they not?)

I want my E to know that even though we don't know much about the first part of her life in Ethiopia with her birthfamily, she was loved. Her birth was celebrated. She was wanted and cherished and when she left, she was missed.

E, I promise someday I will have more answers for you... for me... for us both. And I want her birthfamily in Ethiopia to know that she is still celebrated, loved, and cherished.

Facebook

I think Facebook is so weird. I've been on it for a little over a year-- right after we brought E home, I joined mainly to stay in touch with members of our travel group. (And because my BFF wouldn't stop harassing me about it.)

However, now I'm "friends" on Facebook with people from high school, some co-workers, other adoptive parents, my friends, and family. I think the family "friends" are the weirdest for me. I was just looking at some pictures of my cousin B, who's about 7 years younger than me and whom I haven't seen in about 8 years (at least I THINK she came to my wedding...). B doesn't post much, but her younger sister, my cousin M, does. M's a college student, and, for the life of me, I have no real memories of her from childhood (or B and M's even younger brother, N, for that matter!). To be honest, I have no clue how I even became "friends" with them on Facebook to begin with.

I do remember B, though, as she was born before my grandma died. I think she was probably about 4 when that happened, so we would have spent time together for the first four years of her life. My brother J and I used to call her "B the Brat," umm, because she was... a brat... when she was really young. It's weird to see her now as an adult with a fiancé and a career and a life.

It's also weird to me that I have cousins I don't really know. I wish that my parents would have made it more of a priority for our family to, well, stay a family after my grandma died. I guess that happens, but I think it is sad that I'm "friends" with these strangers who are also my cousins.

I think in that aspect, it is nice that Facebook is around to keep us in touch in some way or another. Even if I don't really know my cousins anymore, I do enjoy reading their updates and keeping touch with them at least in some way.

Choices

So, my "little" brother (he's 6.5 years younger than I am) is house hunting. I'm happy for him, really I am. I found myself getting a little jealous today as he described the house he and his girlfriend (I call her the girls' future Aunt L) are planning to buy. It's in a nicer, more affluent suburb than the one we live in, and the house is a good $50,000 more than our house was when we bought it in 2004. It is 800 square feet larger than my home. He and his girlfriend have a huge amount to put down as a down payment. We had next to nothing to put down when we bought our home! As he described the house with excitement and a smile in his voice, I found myself getting more and more grumpy about the whole thing. I was unhappy about my little brother's good fortune. And thinking why in the heck A and I didn't pick professions that pay more?!? I often feel like we're just getting by and never have money to get ahead.

But then I thought about the amount of money we spent to bring our girls home. True, had we not adopted our 2 girls in less than 3 years, we would be a lot better off financially than we are now. But then we wouldn't have our girls... Obviously, there is no question which life I would chose if it were between being better off financially or having my daughters!

So, the jealousy in my heart about my brother is gone, and I just feel happy for him and proud that he's ready to take this next big step in his life-- becoming a home owner. I guess it is all about perspective.

New Look!

What do you think? I thought it was time to include my E in the header for one thing!! :) And I was ready for a change. I think it is pretty darn cute myself.

Precious

Is there anything more precious than a baby, a sweet, happy, good natured, joyful baby? I think not. This is how I would describe my sweet E.

Tonight, we took a walk (thank god spring is nearly here where we are-- it's been a loooonnnng winter), and E spotted the moon.

And jumped, arms outstretched, to reach it.

Yes, baby girl, jump for the moon. Someday, I think you just might reach it. And when you do, I suspect you will hug it and give it a big, full-lipped kiss.

There's been a lot of talk lately about Ethiopian adoption, as you all know. I've been thinking about our two adoptions and that some think it is wrong to adopt infants when there are waiting children.

In our case, we'd planned to adopt a waiting child our second time around. I could even picture what she'd look like. And then our agency said we couldn't adopt out of birth order. That meant-- if we were to pursue adoption using "our" agency-- that we'd have to adopt an infant as R was barely one (15 months, to be exact) when we started our second adoption.

We chose to stick with our agency and bring another baby girl home.

I don't know who's right and who's wrong in debate about infant vs. waiting child. Both routes have risks, pros, and cons. All I do know is that had adopted an older child... we wouldn't have E.

And then, where would I be? I'd be without MY girl.

My girl who jumps for moon and expects to catch it.

My girl who kisses me on both my cheeks, my lips, and my nose and gives the biggest hugs before going to bed each night.

My girl who loves to sing and dance.

My girl who brings such joy to our family.

My girl who loves passionately and deeply.

My girl who has already proven herself to be a loyal and loving friend.

My girl who is the perfect daughter for our family.

As she jumped for the moon tonight, I thanked God, a silent prayer, for being her momma. I can't imagine my life without her.

I love you, E-poodle.

Attachment

I recently stumbled across this blog as I was reading someone else's. She's asking for adoptive parents to be real about attachment. So here are my two cents about the topic:

With my R, A and I attached to her very quickly. I loved her right away and felt she was mine from the first time I saw her little face staring back at me in those referral pictures. And when we met, she attached to us, too. She wasn't sure about A for maybe a day, and then we really were that happy little adoption story. This being said, R went through a huge period of jealousy when E came home and felt very insecure for a good one to two months. Life was hard at that point for us all, for that reason and reasons I'll discuss below. With R, most of the time, things are simple. We love each other. We drive each other nuts, but she knows that I'm her momma and that she is loved and safe.

With my E, though, it was a different story. I didn't feel the instant connection and love when I gazed at her referral picture. I was expecting her to look completely different, to be a different child, I suppose, and although I felt strongly that she was the girl for our family, I didn't feel the instant and complete, head-over-heels love I did for R.

This carried into our first meeting, when E screamed her baby lungs out. I suspect that she was expecting a different momma! The pictures from our "gotcha" moment are, quite frankly, hard to look at. She's screaming and pulling away from me, and I look horrified, miserable, and pained. I was worried that A and I had made a huge mistake in adopting her when we were in Ethiopia and when we boarded the plane for home.

Indeed, for the first month or so, I felt like I was baby-sitting someone else's sick and sad child. It was hard for me to get to know her, to love her at first. Knowing her and loving her now, I imagine she must have been so scared at first. E is VERY smart, and I am sure she had some awareness that something was happening and that she was being uprooted yet again. (I often try to imagine her first days and weeks after being relinquished by her birth mother. All I see is sadness. Oh, how my poor precious child must have grieved the loss of her birth mother.)

So, it makes sense. In her world, mommas were people who abandoned you and left forever and broke your heart. I understand it now even more than I did then. Slowly though, over the days, weeks, and months home, my E started to become, well my E. She became healthier (she had giardia and some other issues when she came home) and gained weight. We stayed close to home and cocooned. She started to feel more like my child, and I suppose to her I started to feel more like her momma.

The journey of attachment is not easy. I feel that my girls are attached to us and us to them, now... But every once in a while, E will have a day in which she cries-- A LOT-- or weeks when R has sleep issues (the place where her attachment and grieving tend to manifest themselves), and we have to take a few steps back.

On those hard days and in those dark nights, I hold my girls. I pray for healing in their hearts and for the aching to go away. I don't think we'll ever reach our destination on the journey to complete attachment, and some days that scares me. But I also don't know anything different.

What are your thoughts, struggles, successes when it comes to attachment?

I am blessed.

Really, is there anything more to say? ...

Happy 2nd birthday, E, and happy 3rd R Day to my R. I love you both so very much.

Sick Babies

I'm home from work today with my two sick babies. They have high fevers, super runny noses, and hacking coughs. Poor things. They are so pathetic. R hasn't hardly eaten anything in several days, and E's nose will not stop running. I'm hoping they are better soon because I need to be at work tomorrow. We have a 2 hour late start for the kids for a PD session that I have to lead... soooo it won't really work if I'm not there.

We did manage to get the girls' photos taken yesterday despite the sickness. The pictures were for E's birthday, but of course, my R also got in on the action, too. I went to a new person this time, and she posted some preview photos from it on facebook. I can't wait to see the rest-- the ones she posted are beautiful! I will share some in a few days once the photographer is finished editing them!

Happy Birthday, Baby Doll!

Today is my E's 2nd birthday. What can I say? She's such an amazing and funny and sweet little thing. She has such a caring heart and sensitive little soul, but she's so tough, too, and she's not afraid to stand up to her sassy big sister. She loves deeply and can always make me smile when I'm upset. She is a miracle.

I think today about her birthfamily, across the world in Ethiopia. I think about where they live, the place where my daughter was born and lived the first 8 months of her life. I long to tell them that she is ok... that she is loved... that she's sleeping tonight in a warm bed with at least 6 dolls cuddled up with her...

Tonight, at birthday cake time, she sang "Happy Birthday" to herself right along with us. She shared her icing with her big sister when R asked for more. She made her scary lion face and danced in her seat.

I love her so very much. I thank God that we started our 2nd adoption when we did and that by His miracle, she became my daughter.

My sweet E, I love you forever.

Ethiopian Sun-- 3 Years Later

On "E" Day in Dec., I posted the story I tell the girls about the first time A, E, and I met each other last year. I'll do the same today, telling the story of meeting R for the first time. I can't believe that it has been 3 years since the first time I held my daughter.

Anyway, here is the story I tell R about when we met one another...

Mommy and Daddy decided to adopt a little girl from Ethiopia so they filled out all the paperwork and waited a long time. Finally, it was time for them to fly to Ethiopia to bring their tiny baby girl home. So Mommy and Daddy flew over the ocean to Africa, over the mountains of Ethiopia and into Addis Ababa, where R was. When we got to Ethiopia, it was nighttime, and Mommy and Daddy were very tired. Y and D picked us up and drove us to the hotel.

The next morning, Mommy and Daddy came downstairs and ate breakfast with the other families who were there to bring their little babies home. Finally, it was time for Mommy and Daddy to go up the hill and around the corner and through the gates of *our agency's home* and into the courtyard. When we got into the courtyard, all the babies were our in the sun getting baby massages and napping.

From across the courtyard, we spotting our tiny baby because of her little curly head and her tiny baby toes. She was sitting in a bouncy seat facing away from us, but as we got closer, Mommy and Daddy said, "That's her! That's our baby daughter!'

Someone handed R to Mommy, and Mommy kissed R on the forehead. When Mommy looked at R's sweet face, R was smiling at Mommy. Daddy couldn't take his eyes off his tiny beautiful baby! Mommy, Daddy, and R were a family forever.

... And that is the story I tell my daughter about that beautiful meeting 3 years ago today. With R, we had the perfect, fairy tale first meeting. R attached to us quickly, so quickly in fact that I've often said she was waiting for us just as much as we were waiting for her. My biggest emotion when I held her for the first time was the biggest sense of relief. Relief that after all the longing for her-- the gut wrenching, horrible heart ache and longing of the time when we were waiting between referral and travel-- was completely lifted. This perfect and beautiful child was in my arms-- forever. R is my miracle. The daughter I had prayed for and longed for for all the time I had waited to be a mother.

We were fortunate, so very fortunate, that our first days and weeks together were totally lovely. It was such an amazing experience, and it truly was perfect. Not ALL first meetings of children in adoption are perfect. In fact, most are far from it (remember, the first time we met E was horrible!!), and I am so thankful for that. Maybe some of you reading this are rolling your eyes and gagging. Had I had the first meeting experience we'd had with E first, I would feel totally different. We were so prepared for R to totally reject us, and we were so lucky that it was a completely opposite experience.

R, my precious R, I love you so very much. My heart ached for you and longed for you until 3 years ago today when we met for the first time. I am so thankful to be your mom. You, my daughter, are strong-willed and sassy. Sometimes I get frustrated. Sometimes I yell. But, at the end of the day, my dear, I adore you. I treasure you. I am so thankful that God chose me to be your mother. Three years have gone by in a blink, and I can wait to see what you do next!

3 Years

It's been 3 years (today) since A and I started on the journey across the sea to go bring our R home. I cannot believe how quickly the time has flown by! I am thinking tonight about how I felt as we made our way to Ethiopia. I think about how much my heart ached and longed and hurt for her until I held her in my arms. There are no words to describe what it was like to finally be on our way to bring our precious, tiny baby. (She was just a little over 3 months old at the time.) For my daughter, I had waited for a long time. 3 years ago today, that wait was almost over.

Lovely

I think that is the only way to describe the past few days. I was able to attend the Created for Care adoptive moms retreat... and I brought my E so she could be reunited with her ET BFF, B, because my dear friend S was able to go at the very last minute!!

The whole trip was amazing from start to finish. First, my E was a wonderful traveler. My girl only cried a few times the entire weekend, and it was only when she was dead tired. She was smiley and happy and precious. She played with B like they'd never been apart. I LOVED LOVED LOVED seeing the two of them together again. I know you might not believe me, but I know those girls remembered each other. Even though S and B leave across the country from us, I know that E and B will always share a bond and friendship.

Speaking of, can I just tell you how much I loved meeting S in person!? Finally. It was so amazing to just be able to meet face to face!

The retreat was so awesome. 250 woman-- all brought together through adoption. Many different agencies, international, domestic... All of us there for a weekend specifically designed for us. I loved being reunited with some travel buddy friends and people whose blogs I've faithfully followed through their journeys. And I got to meet so many others, too!! The whole weekend, from start to finish, was such a blessings and was something I desperately needed!

On a totally unrelated side note, E, apparently, has decided it is time that she was potty trained. On Sat. night, she told me to take off her diaper because she had to potty... and she did!! And she did it again tonight. I had planned to start working on potty training over my spring break, but at this point, it appears she's begun to potty train herself! Is there anyway to explain how much I love that tiny, precious, beautiful, smart, funny, clever, joyful, amazing child??? And her sister, too, of course.

What did I EVER do to be this blessed? Yes, life can be hard and has been overwhelming lately, but my children truly are so amazing.

Been Thinkin'...

...A lot lately about the girls' birthmoms and birthfamilies.

Now, this might have something to do with the fact that I have 2 photo books burning a hole in my kitchen counter as they have been sitting there since early December, just waiting for me to mail them to our agency already!! (A is going to do it tomorrow for me.)

It may have something to do with the fact that I finally got a reply to an email inquiring about birthfamily contact that I'd sent to our adoption case manager weeks ago after reading something on my agency's listserv.

It may be that R has been asking a lot of questions again lately. Tonight, about both her birthmother and her birthfather-- as well as her sister's birthfamily.

It may be that I showed some pictures to E of her with her birthmom yesterday. To which she pointed at her birthmom and said, "Mommy!" (Is there any way possible that she remembers her birthmom and knows who she is?)

It may be that E will be two in a few weeks, and I've been thinking a lot about that.

I mean, the thing is I think about the girls' birthfamilies A LOT on a general basis. Multiple times daily... And when I do think of them, I always pause to pray for them. I wrestle constantly with the fact that I don't know more about my girls' first families. I am their mother, but that does not change the fact that two other women were their mothers first.

Sorry this blog has been a bit of a downer lately. I suppose it is because I've been in a bit of a funk the past month or so.

Memory

25 years ago, I sat in my first grade classroom and watched on live TV while the Challenger blew up in a million pieces right before my eyes. I was 6 at the time, and I believe that event was the first really tragic moment I truly remember. When I got home, I told my mom about it. She was home that day and was very pregnant with my little brother. (He was born on Feb. 6 of that year.) I remember her not believing me. She said something like, "honey there is alway a lot of smoke when shuttles go into space. That's probably what you saw." Finally, after my insistence, she turned on the TV and saw I was right.

I remember the Challenger explosion through the eyes of a child, and I always sort of pinpoint that event as the first thing that I can truly remember where I was and what I was doing. There are other moments-- of course-- since then that I can remember the wheres and when. 9/11, when my grandparents died, other tragedies both public and personal.

I know the man who was the runner-up in the search for the first teacher to go into space. He lives in my area, works at a local university, and has been a consultant for my school district for several years. He trained alongside Christa McAuliffe just in case she could not go for some reason. I think sometimes about how much that would have changed me. Getting that close to something that amazing, training for it, and then, watching shuttle blow up into a million pieces.

I think sometimes we get so close, want something so badly, and then... we don't get it. Or then again, maybe we do. Maybe we get what we need in other ways, at other times. There have been things in life I wanted so badly and not gotten. At the time, it is hard to keep it in perspective and to understand. Time passes, wounds heal. There are new wants and needs. Doesn't that happen in life a thousand times?

I don't really know where I'm going with all this. I guess, I just know that when I look back on my life, I don't want to have regrets about how it turned out. I want to know that the path I take and the decisions I have made were good and right and the best I could have made. How does that connect to the 25th anniversary of the Challenger disaster? It's my blog. I don't always have to make sense!

Can't Forget

It was late and raining when we touched down in Addis Ababa. I was exhausted from 26+ hours of travel. So happy to back in Ethiopia to bring our second daughter home. Returning to Ethiopia was, after all, a homecoming of sorts. I felt confident and calm as we loaded the van, hopped in, and started the journey from the airport to our hotel.

People on the streets. Homeless. This time, unlike last time, begging children do not swarm the van, thank god.

We chat with the others who are in our travel group, and A and I start to recognize some landmarks.

We stop at a light, a rarity in Ethiopia.

A man emerges from under the cover of a tree and approaches the van.

He is practically naked, wearing only gym (basketball) shorts. Rain rolls down his face. His feet are bare. The elastic has come out of the shorts so he holds them bunched in one hand.

In the other, a piece of paper. The paper has some writing on it and a photograph. He speaks to us, his voice desperately pleading. We cannot understand what he is saying. His expression is one of pain, of suffering, of agony. I don't think I will ever forget what his face looked like.

No one in the van gives him money. All, I think, are in shock as the light changes and drive away.

I cannot tell you how often I think of this man, alone, desperate, begging to people in a van. For what? I do not know.

But I do know that I wish I would have reached into my bag and handed him some birr. Even in saying this, it is for a selfish reason-- so that I would not feel the way I do now about that man, so that I would not think about him and wish I had handled the situation differently.

Sometimes, the suffering and pain and poverty of the people of my children's beautiful homeland overwhelms me. I feel helpless to do anything. I think of that man on that night and other equally horrifying things I experienced in my 2 trips to bring our children home.

Please, God, forgive me for not helping that man.

New House

My parents are building a new house. It's been a long time coming (they bought the land over two years ago by now and had the plans for it shortly after that), but they'd been waiting to sell their current house to start it. Considering that only 3 people have looked at their house in the past 12 months, that's not seeming to happen anytime soon. But, anyway, due to a few factors, they decided to go ahead and start with construction in Nov. The girls and I went with my dad last week to see the progress and for the girls to pick out which bedroom will be their room-- the princess bedroom. Here are a few pictures!

The front of the house...

Peering through the construction.

Babies looking out the window of "their" bedroom. Nice view of the lake!

The Luxury of Water

I read the book A Long Walk to Water this week. It is a YA lit book about Sudan based on the life story of a Sudanese man who was one of what is known as the Lost Boys of Sudan. The book actually follows his story but is juxtaposed with a story of a young girl whose daily task is walking miles and miles to gather water for her family each day.

The Sudanese man started a non-profit that builds wells for villages in Sudan. So I've been thinking a lot this week.

First, about how to integrate this book in my curriculum for next year, and I think I've found a way. (Oh, yeah, I'm probably going to be teaching 8th grade again next year.) With another book I taught, my students did a huge research project on non-profits that do good around the world and in our own community. Most of my students lack the ability to see outside our community for a variety of reasons. Anyway, I was trying to figure out how combine both the novel I previously used with this new one. I'm actually really excited by the idea of using this book along with the other one, which is a piece of historical fiction. I feel like my students need to be able to connect with something current; the book was published in 2010...

Second, another adoptive mom I "know" recently returned to Ethiopia. One thing that struck me from reading about her experiences was that she said that people in southern Ethiopia were constantly searching for water. That is their whole lives, the finding of water, which is necessary for survival.

And, then there's me. I have the luxury of going to any one of the faucets in my house, turning on water, and using as much of it as I want with the guarantee that it is safe for my family and for me. I think of those people of southern Ethiopia whose children cannot go to school because their job is to gather water... something I take for granted.

I don't understand why I have the privilege of living in a country where water is an afterthought, while the people of my children's birth country do not have access to water... and if they do, it may or may not (usually not) safe for them to drink and use.

How the hell is that fair?

D.I.V.A.

The Plunge

Some travel group friends of ours are starting their second adoption process this week. Like I told her, in a lot of ways, I wish we were ready to start again!

For example, as I drove today to pick up the girls from work, I was thinking a lot about our next adoption. I had almost convinced myself that of course we were ready! Let's go! I'll tell A tonight that we should start again. Sure, we have less than 1/2 the money we'd need to fund another adoption and our kids are little.... But R would be 4 and E 3 when a new child came home... That's doable, right??? Yeah, we can totally do that. Let's go! E's been home a year, and it was when R was home a year that we started the process for a second time. I'll call my case manager tonight and email our social worker!

Umm, riiiight. That's easy to convince oneself in the quiet of the car (ok, van!) as I drive to pick up the babies. And then I pick up the kids. I love them dearly, but R was crazy tonight again, and E is definitely entering the terrible twos (will be 2 next month) as well.

And I realize how incredibly crazy I am.

There is no way.

I mean, come on! Like I've said before, I'm not ready yet. No way. I feel like I'm already not a great mom for my 2 precious girls. It would be unfair to add another child to our family now-- unfair to A and me, to the girls, and of course to another child. I don't know how people with lots of little ones do it. Being a mom is so overwhelming to me sometimes.

I'm just not ready to take the plunge...