Dec. 13th 2008
He’s ours. Every finger every toe. We passed court on December 12th. In the adoption world that translates to my baby being legally mine. I know so little about him and he is my son. I’ve seen his smile, never heard his cry. When Mikaela was born and I finally came out of my drug-induced shock about having had a c-section, I gave her a full inspection. I took off her little clothes and examined every inch, turning her over and touching her smooth skin. Temesgen will be nine months old by the time I get to do this.

Mikaela had her first sleep over at Aunt Barbara’s in preparation for Michael and I traveling to Ethiopia. After a brief cry of wanting to go home, she snuggled in with Aunt Barb and went to sleep. It was after 11pm so she probably passed out from exhaustion. And of course, she was up early. After spending a week with Barb where she gets to watch TV, eat junk food and stay up late, she may never want to come home.



It is 5am and I am typing this curled up on the couch. I love the early morning hours when it is quiet and peaceful.

That last sentence is an extreme romancing of the truth. It is quiet with the exception of the noises the cats are making as they eat plastic and whine to be fed and the dog’s snarfing noise as she licks her butt in her crate. Oh, and there is the hacking emphazema cough of my neighbor as he lets his dogs out and the upstairs snores coming from the damn husband. Oh the lovely sounds of morning. And still I love the early morning hours. I am sitting in front of the Christmas tree that has a mass of ornaments piled on it, heavier on the bottom where Mikaela can reach. In 16 days I will hold my son for the first time. Will I ever have a quiet morning again? Sometimes I think I must be crazy for taking this on. I feel so ill prepared in so many ways. I had so much stuff when Mikaela was born. For Temesgen I have a wooden riding giraffe that I bought at a garage sale for fifty cents. (It has become one of Mikaela’s favorite pets.)


I also bought him a blue knit hat, three pairs of socks and mittens. I have tried to convince Michael that Temesgen can wear Mikaela’s hand me downs for the first few years and it won’t make a difference. He won’t care if he is a girly man in pink in the beginning. Michael of course, makes a horrified face as though this will instantly zap the poor boy’s manhood and scar him for life. Okay, so I won’t bring out the dresses but really the purple flower power playsuit could be just fine! He will look like a flower child of the sixties. If my family would have gone along with the gender neutral clothing I wanted for Mikaela when she was born instead of the girly cutie clothes they bought, this wouldn’t be a problem. I am sure he will like the red glitter high tops that were Mikaela’s favorites. What does a baby really need? He will sleep with us so we know we don’t need to go the crib route that we tried for Mikaela in the beginning- the most expensive toy box ever. So, he needs diapers, bottles and love. Am I forgetting anything else? Bottles. There is a terrifying thought. `I breastfed Mikaela far longer than I thought possible! I can’t imagine getting up in the middle of the night and mixing formula (yuk) instead of rolling over and lifting my shirt. Oh, that’s where the damn husband comes in!! He got off easy with Mikaela and never even woke up when she did. This time things will be different. “Wake up, Michael, stop snoring. Your son would like a bottle!”