Tiny babe

There is a tiny baby boy who has turned our world upside down, inside out, and right side up.

A tiny babe who has no idea that we exist. And we can think of nothing else but him.

A tiny babe with a story that is bittersweet. A story that has me going back and forth between tears of grief and tears of joy.

A tiny babe that has my sweet husband driving all over town to show people pictures of his son. And singing songs about his “tiny little guy.”

A tiny, beautiful, Ethiopian babe. Our son.

Unforgettable

I have never been a big fan of summer. I'm a cold weather gal.

But, for several reasons, this summer has been a really good one. I've been enjoying berry picking, walks in the park, and picnic dinners. It really has been a summer to remember.

And today we got one more reason to love summer -- we recieved a referral of a sweet 10 week old baby boy! His name means unforgettable.

And he is.

Some good reading

I've come across a few interesting articles lately...here's the links with a little quote from each article:
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From Brain Child Mag

“…observers point out that white parents often celebrate a child’s birth culture in lieu of dealing with a child’s race. They want a formula, not daily dissonance.”
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From Anti-Racist Parent

“I have attempted to teach my children who they are, what they. I have attempted to instill in them pride in who they are, what they are. But often I cannot find the right words. Often I am faltering in my speech. And too often I contradict myself in words and deeds.”
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From the Boston Globe

“Yet I worry that some parents are now taking things too far: Going to extremes to idealize the native culture might be as damaging to an adoptee as ignoring it…and without adequate acknowledgement of the reality that actually is - their experience in America - I suspect that children might have an even harder time figuring out where they belong.”

-b

Looking forward...

...to the weekend!

For some reason, yesterday was a rough day for me. But, we had one of Jake's students over for dinner and that certainly livened things up :). I'm doing much better today. I'm still very much looking forward to seeing the face of our sweet son, whenever that may be!

In the meantime, I've got big plans for this weekend...baking bread, canning peaches, picking blackberries, making jam, rebatching soap into liquid hand soap...we'll see how much I actually get done. I would love to get started on Baby D's quilt too (now that I finally have fabric picked out!).

Wow, my life sounds like an episode of Little House on the Prairie. With better fashion, of course. And no annoying little girls named Nellie.

To the weekend!

p.s. As you know, Jake works with kids with autism. He spends his days with them in the classroom, and his evenings and summers working as a social coach at a private clinic. For those of you who are interested in what social coaching is, this is a pretty good article.

Closer

We are getting to that point in our wait where lack of blog posts causes readers to assume:

a.) We have lost it and simply can’t stand to wait one more minute.
b.) We got our referral and just haven’t announced it yet to the internets.

Well, I am here to say that neither of these is true. We haven’t met our son, but we also haven’t lost it.

I’ve mentioned before that my patience is usually, well, non-existent. Maybe all the patience I was granted in this life has simply been in storage and is now cashing itself in. I didn’t have it before because I needed to save it for this. Because, seriously, we are doing great.

I would love to see our son’s face soon. But do you know what I would love more? To be able to show our friends and family his sweet face. They have walked along side us through this journey, and some of them (hi Mom!) are getting antsy. I try to avoid making phone calls because the person on the other end of the line is inevitably disappointed to hear (insert frivolous conversation here), and not news of a tiny Ethiopian babe.

Every day is a day closer!

-b

A small victory

I finally made a decision about something in Baby D's room.

It's totally inconsequential and trivial.

It took me about 7382 minutes longer than it should have.

But I did it.

Exhibit A: The only window in the room.

This window annoys me for several reasons. Since this is a blog and not a therapist's office, I shall spare you the details of my many woes. Instead, I will just focus on one: the vinyl mini blinds.

Who invented vinyl mini blinds? Does this person hate me? Our house came with an abundance of these things. I've managed to cover most of them up with curtains, or removing them all together.

Anyway, I am sure you don't care. I am boring myself with this topic as I type, so I am sure you are thinking: "Get to the point, Beka....there is a point, right?"

Yes, there is a point.

I made roman shades. Out of mini blinds.

I'll spare you the drama of me actually having to choose the fabric (summary: took me 2 hours in the fabric store) and just go ahead and show you the final product. What do you think?

Can you tell what colors the room is going to be? I'll probably never decide on a wall color, but the colors we are using are mustard and charcoal and black and white and whatever else I decide to throw in there.

The best part of this little project is that it required no sewing! Just some glue and scissors and this handy dandy tutorial I found online: make shades out of mini blinds. Try it! What is the worst that can happen?

Baby D might not have much in his room, but at least he'll have window coverings!

-b

8

8 things that make me happy right now:

1. the smell of freshly harvested peppermint fields outside my window
2. all my siblings and their families under the same roof this weekend
3. warm tea on a cool summer morning
4. fresh veggies from the gardens of friends
5. a husband who loves teaching kids about art
6. homemade pizza for dinner
7. laundry hanging outside to dry
8. Eight months on the wait list!

-b

Making decisions

Can you tell what is on our mind these days?

We've been on this adoption journey for about a year. (Well....officially about a year. It's been brewing for much longer than that!) The time of actually having a little one in our house is fast approaching.

I've been dreaming of our child-filled house....where to put toy boxes and bookshelves. Painting chalkboards on the wall and making room for blankets. Sewing a quilt and picking out paint colors. Refinishing furniture and hanging curtains.

The thing is, I can't seem to move from dreams to reality. I have so many ideas in my head, and I can't make any decisions! We decided, since Jake works less during summer, that we would try to tackle some projects before school started up again. Which is a great idea, in theory.

I can't make a single decision. I've been trying to figure out a paint color for Baby D's room. I have 16 million paint color chips. None of them are right. I have looked at every single color of paint in the world--twice--and not one is just right for that room.

The dreaming part has been easy, but the deciding part had been hard. I'm paralyzed by any decision that remotely has anything to do with a baby being in our house. Don't ask me where to hang shelves or I'll have a breakdown.

Choosing fabric for the quilt I want to make for my sweet son? Well, I have one of the fabrics. I need three. And one of the ones I still need is just plain white -- but I can't find the exact right one. There are probably 7,237 white fabric choices in driving distance of me and none of them is right.

I can't commit to anything...I don't know what it is. I want so much to nest and prepare our home for our little one. But, instead of looking at the ideas I have and making a decision, I keep looking for more ideas. Better ones. As if the moment I decide on something and make it official, something better will come along.

We have been given a full supply of gently used cloth diapers. Do you know how many different types of cloth diapers there are out there? I do. I researched them all. And every day I find another kind. Thankfully, this gift blessed us not only with all the diapers we could ever need, but it blessed me with one less decision to have to make. I don't know which blessing is better.

Please don't ask me to choose.

Past, present, future

There will be a moment in our near future where we will lay eyes on a tiny babe. Several months later, we will meet that babe face to face. In between the first picture we receive and the first time we are physically together, we will get updates, photos and reports on how he is growing and changing. When we do meet in his country of birth, we will also meet with members of his birth family, if they are known. We will ask questions and absorb as much as we can.

These will be our memories. The memories we will pass on to this child when he asks us what he was like as a baby, where he was born, and what his family is like.

The thing is, we won’t have his whole story to offer him. As much as we will have, it will not be all of it. His life does not begin when we learn of him for the first time. Not at all. His life has likely already begun. Although he is not alone, his life has begun without us.

In a perfect world, adoption would not exist. It wouldn’t need to. The world we live in is far from perfect. And because of this, the child we will raise as our own will have a story with missing pieces.

As much as my heart aches to start our life together as soon as possible, how much more does a woman’s heart in Ethiopia ache with the decision to allow someone else to raise the child she gave life to?

Even though I would love for this whole process to happen quickly, I just can’t wish for that. I can’t wish for his time with his birth family to be cut even shorter than it likely already is. How can I wish for his time with them to end? I can’t. I can’t be selfish. This is his story, and I will not take away from it. The time has not yet come for us to join our stories. For now, my hope is that he is in the care of the only family he has ever known. And I hope that somewhere in his tiny baby soul, he would remember the time spent with them. That he would sense the love that surrounds him.

There have been times where I have worried about the physical needs of our son. I’ve worried that he wouldn’t have enough to eat. Or that his tiny body wouldn’t be strong enough to fend off infection or disease. But I have never worried that he would be without love in his life. We will be, at best, the third set of caregivers he will know. For some reason, my heart is okay with this because I know that each of the people who will pass through his life before us will love him. They will show him what it is like to be loved.

When he asks me about his life before we met, I will give him all the knowledge I have. And when he asks about the missing parts, I will not discredit those parts simply because they are not known to me. I will tell him that while I don’t know the details, I do know that he was loved.

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

Eight

August 3, 2001

Eight years of us!