Back to Ethiopia

Well, we have two kids at home now.  Max has been home for just over three weeks.  

It has not been easy.

A new little person, uprooted and placed in a totally new environment - everything looks and sounds different, smells and tastes different, the weather, our habits, and throw in jet lag, a couple illnesses and three prescriptions . . . oh, and teething.  And his rowdy brother. And I work from home. 

BUT . . . we are doing so well.  Mostly because we've been sleeping through the night for about a week!  Thank you, Max, you mighty little guy!  And we are finding our footing and getting into a routine and have been blessed by a sweet community here who have cheered for us and rallied around us and not been put off by all of our emotions.  Thank you to my people. 

And wow, looking at these pictures from a month ago when we took custody really puts it into perspective.  We have come so very far in a short amount of time.  I think anyone who is around us now would see a difference in him from these early pictures but as his mom, wow.  I get caught up in the day to day and this gives me look at the big picture.

We were back in Ethiopia exactly four weeks from our first trip and once again found ourselves visiting our son at the foster home on a Sunday morning.  It wasn't exactly a joyful reunion - he didn't cry, but he was wary. So many of our pictures have him looking away from us.  I'm so thankful he's grown to trust us.  As we walked from the foster home to our hotel to start our life together, I was so sad for him.  He was leaving the his home.  It is hard to reconcile our joy at gaining a son with his great losses.  

He warmed up to us at the hotel room.  Maybe his little mind could remember that we had visited him a month ago?  Our first morning together he stood between us on the bed, pressing his face close to mine and then Matt's, mine and then Matt's, over and over, sweet kisses from this little love. 

The next day we were back at the foster home for our coffee ceremony.  These women, these nannies, I hope they know how indebted we are to them.  How grateful we are. They have the hardest job.  And yet they do their work with great love.  We had sat in on a coffee ceremony on our last visit for families who were taking their children home and our experience was the same - the nannies came in, greeting all the children by name and hugging them all, passing around the babies, taking their time saying goodbye.  They were thrilled for us to start our new families, but with it again - joy and grief.  They truly love these children they serve every day. And their love makes all the difference in the lives and bodies of our babies.   

We had the privilege of sharing this trip with my sister-in-law, Courtney.  She coined the phrase "adoption doula" to describe her role and it was a perfect description.  As a mom of three little boys she is a bit of a boy-raising expert.  In her we had another caregiver, tie-breaker, photographer, friend, and maybe most importantly, an argument-diffuser.  Her presence stopped about 8,000 fights from erupting between Matt and me because, see above - adding a new baby is a stressful little endeavor and I might say it would try the strongest marriage.  Her adoption doula services are available to others at the right price.  I'll write a great recommendation. ;) 

On our last full day in Ethiopia we traveled out to Max's home town.  It was a tough trip.  Six hours there and longer back, three across in the back of an SUV with no air conditioning.  There are no car seats in Ethiopia, which maybe worked in our favor on this trip because Max climbed all over us the entire time and stayed fairly happy (besides the diapers we had to keep pulling over to change).  The trip was overwhelmingly worth it.  Out of respect for his story, I'm keeping details off the internet, but it was such a gift to experience this part of his life and to see the beautiful people of his home.  Ethiopia's people are so beautiful.  Their colors, their hearts, their joy.  Their kindness.  Not one of the women laughed at me and the $200 contraption I had to keep my baby strapped on where they deftly had their babies secured with a piece of fabric - instead they marveled at his eyes and skin and said he was 'beautiful like his parents.'  What a gift they gave us with their blessing and their joy.

At the time it was the trip that would never end . . . but now I am so profoundly grateful for the opportunity to walk that dirt road of my son's first home.  Thank you, Ethiopia, for sharing one of your own with us.

The Day We Met Our Boy

Meeting Day

The day we met our son started with a spectacular sunrise over Egypt, the sun arcing blue and orange over the curve of the earth as we raced through the sky towards Addis Ababa. When our 12 hour flight landed in Ethiopia's capital, I peered through our small window to see hills of green, city buildings in the distance, and men and women harvesting grasses along the runway with machetes, bundling them neatly onto their backs. We found our driver and he confirmed our identity by asking, "Firomsa's parents?" We grinned and nodded ecstatically, the first time we'd heard an Ethiopian say our son's name, which tripped awkwardly off our American tongues.

Our flight had landed late so when we arrived at the guest house, we had only a minute to drop off our bags and give hurried introductions to the other families staying there. Time was ticking on our visiting hours, 10-12 and 3-5. We wanted to be there every second we could. As I was about to leave, the guest house manager stopped me and explained there was a problem. My tired mind raced and tried to decipher the broken English and quell the rising panic.  It sounded like we might not be able to see him today. Mr. Bere struggled to make his point clear. "You know chicken box?" "Chicken in a box?", I repeated blankly, thinking it was way too early for KFC.  Thankfully another mom came to my rescue.  "Chicken POX!", she translated. A minute later we had determined that one of the older children had chicken pox and they were worried the visiting room needed a day to ventilate.  Solution- we could bring our baby back to the guest house, all day long. As far as I know this has never happened for a court visit. We had absolutely nothing for him! But we were ecstatic.

After a short, but harrowing, drive we pulled up to the pink gates of the foster home.  The nannies welcomed us and chattered and someone called for Firomsa while I struggled to hand off my camera. And then there he was, a little bundle, looking just like his pictures, but unsure of me. 

  

I think I was nervous to meet him, I didn't know what he'd think of me, but it's hard to remember the feeling now because now... He's our son! We tried not to overwhelm him and they gave us a bottle and then hurried us back to the car. Five Americans carried their two new Ethiopian babies on their laps, African style.  And then there we were, suddenly with a new baby, all day long. It was sweet. 

That first day we were full of quiet wonder. What does he like? What does he do? We had lots of questions for our almost-11-month-old.  He sat quietly at first and then fell asleep after his bottle. Along with another family we took our new babies to a hotel nearby for lunch, giddy with the freedom of parenting our kids for the first time and exposing them to new things.  We fed him from a spoon for the first time, saw him stand, smile, and grab for our food. Later as we struggled to push through the jet lag, he surprised us by crawling to the foot of the bed and sitting attentively while we FaceTimed with Bo. Our last activity of the day was a family nap, mom and dad overcome with jet lag and Firo snuggled between us for his afternoon nap. We returned him to his nannies at the foster home and thanked God for a perfect first day together. 

After that, we fell into a routine of two visits a day, two hours each visit. Each time we learned something new about our son as he grew more comfortable with us. He is small but mighty! He crawled, pulled step standing, cruised along furniture, clapped his little hands, and chanted DaDa after Matt showed him how. He loves balls and other babies and was most animated when one of his baby friends was out to play. He loved the nannies too, always pausing to acknowledge them with a smile. 

It was a honeymoon week. He was perfect. We never saw him cry and never changed a dirty diaper either. I know those days are coming! We are excited for them, but we treasure that first week together, getting to know our boy.