the day of all days

Sorry it has taken me awhile to get back to our adventure. It has been a busy week.
It is now time to write about the day of all days. While I am going to be very honest about this day, I am also going to keep certain details private. Here we go. . .

Thursday, November 22, 2007:

On Wednesday evening, we were told of a change in our plans. Instead of Ephrim driving us, we would have someone else plus a translator. Also, we would leave at 6 a.m. sharp. (Now, would this be the American 6 a.m. sharp or the Ethiopian version?) After a full day on Wednesday and difficulty with the kids at bedime, I will admit that my heart wasn't into this trip. We would be leaving very early for a 3+ hour journey with two small children and riding with people we didn't know. At that moment, I truly didn't want to go. It was building up as a possible nightmarish event. But what could we do? This was a once-in-a-lifetime trip and the birthmother would be waiting. No choice. I was up at 4:30 to get myself ready just in case we were really leaving at 6 a.m.

We didn't. It was closer to 6:30, but for Ethiopian time that was pretty good. We climbed into a minibus with our kids, Tsegay's wife, Almaz, the driver and the driver's friend. Before we left Addis, we needed to pick up the translator, who happened to be a friend of Almaz. Then, we headed out of town.

The Ethiopian countryside is beautiful. M and I kept saying, "We only see this on tv or magazines!" Granted, the poverty is still evident, especially in the small towns and villages that we would roll through. Occasionally we would notice a wrecked, burned out minibus on the side of the road --kind of like the one we were in. M and I made up stories to ease our minds about how everyone survived, no injuries. We also had to slow down for the occasional cattle crossing.





It was during this trip that E finally paid some attention to me -- actual eye contact!! Not only that, he SMILED at me! Oh such progress. S, of the other hand, was busy being carsick.

We finally made it to our destination town and stopped at a local hotel for breakfast. I had some toast with tea and worried about the water in the tea -- bottled water didn't seem to be offered as this wasn't a very touristy area. Oh, how I was hoping that all the ickies had been boiled away! Being a bit nervous about the whole day, I only managed one piece of toast (wonderful bread!) and a few sips of tea hoping that Montezuma (sp?) wouldn't find me in Ethiopia. Then, we were finally on our way to the orphanage.


When we arrived, we were directed to the inside of the main room of the orphanage where there were people there to greet us. As I was greeting a woman in the traditional way, I was told she was the mother. Oh my goodness! I wasn't ready! And standing behind her ready to be greeted was the grandmother! Double oh my goodness! Talk about an awkward moment. We sat down for a few minutes before taking a tour of the orphanage. We went into the room where the children slept and saw the beds that were once used by S and E. Other beds were occupied by little infants, including one that was only a month old. I instantly thought of our newest niece, Abigail, and how she had come into this world so differently. I wanted to grab up this littlest one, hold her close, take her home, and put her in a safe, proper crib. She was so tiny! Another baby being tended to was giving us sweet smiles, and another was busy kicking covers off and giving us a peek at his little tushy. Oops!

We then went to tour the other building and see the pretty flower garden. It really was a nice spot. Sometime during all of this seeing and greeting, we had a coffee ceremony and a few minutes with the mother and grandmother. They were happy to consent to some pictures, and we learned some information that was actually different than what we had originally been told. The one thing I wish I had done was to go with a few prepared questions to have the translator ask their mother. I had imagined conversation just naturally happening between us, but in reality the meeting felt too awkward for that to happen. For our part, we worried about what they were thinking of us, these Americans coming to take their children. I'm guessing they had similar but opposite worries -- what must these Americans think of us giving up our children? As a result, we often had uncomfortable silence. The automatic bond I had hoped for didn't materialize.

Before long, we were told it was time to go. We all gathered outside for goodbyes. As I once again went to the mother, I wanted to put my arms around her and hug her tight, but I wasn't sure how that would be received. I held back and settled for the traditional. As I walked away, my throat closed up and the tears came. I had worked so hard on this trip not to cry because I was afraid that if I started that I would not be able to stop. True enough, but it couldn't be helped.

I then felt a little foolish for my emotions as the family climbed into the minibus with us -- we were giving them a ride back to their town. The awkwardness continued for several miles until we finally reached their drop-off point. We pulled off to the side of the road to let them out and to wait for other people we were driving to Addis. As we waited, neighbors and family members came to say goodbye to the kids and wave to us. Woweeewowow, really uncomfortable as all we could do was sit there and wait. I waited for major breakdowns (from either the adults or the children) but it didn't happen. After many minutes, the door was closed and we started to pull away. I continued to wave and looked for their mother. She found me and gave me a big wave and a smile. In that last instant, I felt the connection I had hoped for. A moment now burned into my heart.

With a sigh of relief we started our long journey back to Addis. That sigh of relief didn't last long: it was now very hot and we were holding two very warm children. S slept for most of the trip on my lap as I wiped the sweat off her face. The driver blasted the same tunes over and over -- the speaker was back by us, so he had to turn it up to hear. Traffic was heavier, so the trip was slower going back than coming. Somehow, we made it back to the House of Hope in good shape -- just sweaty and a bit weary. There was food waiting for us, and we here happy for it. The best part of the evening? E decided he wanted me, the mama. For some unknown reason, I became his one and only -- not the security guy, not the driver, not dad. Me, me, me! I ate it up!!

Good thing I did. By the next morning he was done with me. Back to dad.
Only one more day in Addis. A little shopping, some packing, and visas to get the kids out of Africa and into America. What could possibly go wrong? Or almost wrong. . .