When the Dark Side Rules

I should go climb into a hole and reread Dark Side of the Light Chasers. Tuesday I was Mommy Dearest. It all became a little too much: a sick father who is wasting away, a crazy mother who is torturing us all with her grief, a daughter who has the flu and cries whenever I leave her side and a new baby who still might not love me but freely covers me with bodily fluids of all kinds and can screech at decibels that can cause ear damage. Truly I had forgotten how moist and loud motherhood could be. Perhaps I have also forgotten how hard it can be, how lonely and how thankless at times. The Damn Husband called to tell me he was going to be late from work. Great, no problem, it can’t get worse.
“Are you having a bad day?” He asks with a lot of trepidation. He knew what was coming.

Can someone please remove all of my needs so I can parent more effectively? This will all go much better if you do. How about an instant dose of antidepressants that can turn me into Mary Sunshine for a few hours (or days) until I can find my footing again?

From Amazon.com Review of Dark Side of the Light Chasers:

‘We know the shadow by many names: alter ego, lower self, the dark twin, repressed self, id. Carl Jung once said that the shadow "is the person you would rather not be." But even if you choose to hide your dark side, it will still cast a shadow, according to author Debbie Ford. Rather than reject the seemingly undesirable parts of ourselves, Ford offers advice on how to confront our shadows. Only by owning every aspect of yourself can you achieve harmony and "let your own light shine," she explains. "The purpose of doing shadow work, is to become whole. To end our suffering. To stop hiding ourselves from ourselves. Once we do this we can stop hiding ourselves from the rest of the world."’


I am thinking about the woman who drowned her kids and understanding where her impulse came from.
“How could a mother EVER do that to a poor innocent child” my mother said when she heard the story. She shook her head and patted her chest, “Really, how …could… you… hurt…an innocent…child” said the woman who made welts so deep under my diaper that my older sister said it looked like I had 'OC' for Ocean City, (where we were living) tattooed on my behind. Hello, mom, what is that dark formation lurking behind you? Oh no, you don’t have a shadow. You just have a love for wooden spoon discipline on diaper-aged children.

I see the bad side of me that could so easily go south, but it hasn’t. We are a delicate balance of good and evil. Hello Dark Side, I know you are in there.

I am covered in snot and drool. Nigel screams and uses his hands and feet to push against me so I cannot hold him close. I close my eyes and think of giving him what he wants, of letting go of him- he falls out of my sight and I am free. For a second. Then I open my eyes. Then I softly sing in some obscure tune ‘no mommy won’t be crazy today’ and I place him gentle on the couch and find something to distract him. And it passes and we are all fine. Sometimes a version of this repeats twenty times a day sometimes not at all. I do the same with the damn husband (but I don’t sing him anything afterwards) A thousand times I have pictured smacking him over the head with my heaviest frying pan and watching him bounce around with stars circling him like in an old cartoon, boing boing boing boing boing. The feeling came on yesterday when I asked him to please order a new charger cord for my GPS THAT HE BROKE. The cord connector that joins it to the GPS is bent at a 45-degree angle and will no longer make a connection. He wouldn’t admit that he broke it (for the second time, he already ordered a new one once) and instead argued nonsensically that I broke it by hanging the GPS too high on the car windshield and it had nothing to do with the fact that he shoves it into a small compartment between the seats every time he parks the car because he is constantly paranoid that someone is going to break in and steal it. So, now a day later, I don’t think about the frying pan anymore but I haven’t forgotten that he refused to apologize for making the story up because he was at work and the other guys could hear him talking with me.
Me: You need to admit that this story is BS and you need to apologize.
Him: I will later. (in a casual voice)
ME: You don’t want the guys to hear, do you? Oh yeah, if they were listening I’m sure that story made lots of sense to them. Hanging a GPS cord straight down has often made it spontaneously bend upwards against gravity. I’m sure they've heard other similar stories.
Him: Okay, I will talk to you later.
I groan and push the end button on my cell as hard as I can wishing it made a load sound on the other end. I miss that loud emphatic sound of slamming down a land line phone. So much more satisfying.

I love the story Anne Lamont tells in her book Operating Instruction about not being able to stand her son’s screaming any longer. She thinks about putting him outside on the porch for the night. If he is still there in the morning she will consider it natural selection and bring him inside again. I love that she admits to thinking about this and I laugh because I know she did not do it.

It is when you deny your dark side that the trouble begins:
No, mom, I am not angry with you.
I love every moment of motherhood.
Oh no, I don’t mind, you take it.
I’m sorry I broke the GPS cord, sweetie. I don’t need another one. I’ll use map quest.
It was a big leap in my life when I finally got it about the Buddhist offerings each day to the hungry ghosts. They aren’t wandering around the world; they are inside of us. Here you go guys, a little morsel to keep you at bay, nice little ghosts, stay where you belong.

My mother, wayward priests, the woman who drowned her kids, did they go so far because they felt they were not suppose to have dark feelings and so they denied them? Like a balloon you try to push under the water so no one can see it, it is bound to explode out the moment you get distracted.

I once called a friend after she just had a baby. How is she doing I asked her husband when he answered the phone. Well he replied, she hasn’t held him by one foot and swung him in circles above her head, I think she is doing well. Fifteen years later this story still makes me laugh and the image can instantly change my mood when I become frustrated with my kids.


I don’t hit my children, drown them or swing them above my head. Thinking and doing still remain a world apart. I am doing my best to live my life, feel my feelings, sort out my past and change my current reality. I am imagining my world the way I want it to be and I am walking towards that goal one step at a time with an occasional few steps backwards.


Our answers are always around if we look for them and they come just in time. In an article by Tad Waddington in this month’s Spirituality and Health magazine I am reminded of the story about three bricklayers. The first one was trying to make a buck, the second was building a wall and the third was building a school that would educate children for generations
Same job different perspective. Where have I heard that before?

I am still covered in slime but today I am raising young minds that will change the world.

My Father

Everything good about me comes from my father. For more than an hour I have sat here and it is all I can say. I can’t bear to write details of his hospital stay, the falls that brought him there or the fact that I will be touring nursing homes in a few hours. Sometimes I feel that for my whole life I have loved him too much and I can’t imagine my life without him.
Two pictures of my father after a recent fall.


Always the comedian, he puts up his dukes.

So many Alzheimer victims become violent in the later stages of the disease. Not my pop. He literally doesn’t have it in him. He is truly the kindest person I have ever met. He has never been religious, although he pretended to be ‘for the children’ to please my mother. He told me once that he just lives by the Golden Rule and that is enough for him. And he does. And it is.
The last few days I spend all the time I can, first in the ER and then in his hospital room, juggling my two children in the small spaces and trying to be cheerful. Mikaela loves Popie and was determined to see him yesterday He always makes her laugh. She tries to kiss him goodbye and he looks in the opposite direction and waves. I kept trying to move his head in her direction and he kept saying, even when he was looking right at her, “where did she go?” This makes Mikaela laugh because she thinks he is playing with her. My father loves Nigel, he always calls her a girl, but what can you expect, he raised four girls! My dad tries to pat Nigel on the head, usually misses and pats the air and laughs and says “beep beep”. Nigel laughs and tried to pull off his glasses.
I want to grab hold of my father and say, please, please don’t leave me.

Catching Up

It feels impossible to catch up. I really have no time for a blog and it will only get worse. Temesgen has been home for 28 days. I am surprised it has been that long. Sometimes it just feels like one long day. Not a bad day, but a long one.

A quick review
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Unbelievable diarrhea diapers. The first two weeks home were all about poo: how to control it, survive it, contain it and test it. Every other day I drove to Phoenixville to drop off specimens at my doctor’s office. (I will spare you the trials of collecting it!) On the 20th I dropped off poo in Phoenixville and then headed to Bonnie’s house. Everything took twice as long in the snow. We made it to Bonnie’s house just in time for the inauguration. I was so glad to see it on a TV. I am so hopeful about Obama and what this will mean for my children.

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Wonderful friends delivered food every other day, all of it delicious. The best part was having visitors. I needed the reality check that life was continuing normally for others although time seemed to have stopped at my house. Some days I felt like calling friends and begging them to come over. Please don’t leave me alone with these kids!

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I still haven't had time to look at all the pictures I took in Ethiopia. I wish I could post pictures of the children- they are all so beautiful. It is illegal to post pictures of the children due to privacy issues. This makes sense AND I wish I could show them off.

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The first few days were the hardest. We were recovering from jet lag and not getting much sleep. What were we thinking? Temesgen and I were strangers trying to pretend to be family. We were getting to know each other, which happens at its own speed.

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Battle ground with the damn husband
Too many changes too fast. We are struggling to acclimate. Michael comes home from work and struggles with wanting to be on the third floor alone recording music or writing. As soon as the kids go to bed he heads upstairs until the wee hours in the morning and then drags himself out of bed late and dashes off to work. And I struggle with feeling isolated, lonely and inept. I try to explain to Temesegen that this wasn’t exactly what I had pictured. He screeches. He doesn’t love me, I am constantly stained and moist from drool, spit up or poo, my house is a mess and no matter how hard I try to keep everything together someone (or everyone) in this house is mad at me. Motherhood is very humbling.

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A divided heart between my two children, whose needs always seem to be polar opposites making me feel I have to choose between them. Temesgen needs to nap and Mikaela needs to go out on an adventure. Mikaela needs to play a game with me and Temesgen needs to chew up the game pieces. Mikaela wants snuggles and Temesgen is screaming. We nick named him Screech.

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I take Temesgen to the CHOP adoption clinic. I was worried how they would partner with my holistic doctor to determine his care, but I am pleased with everything. They are wonderful. Temesgen passes with flying colors on all tests except one, which comes as a surprise: attachment. In their words, he shows no signs of attachment to me. I want to cry. I feel a bit betrayed. At home when I put him down, he cries and crawls towards me. Great I thought, he is attaching to me! But no. When the occupational therapist works with him she points out that he never checks back with me at all and when she puts him down he cries for her. He is very social due to great care at the orphanage but is not attached to me. Love me, damn it!

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Thinking about Yaebsira and hoping she will be here soon. I scour the posted photos of the other adoptive families that have returned from traveling trying to discern how she is doing. Does she look happy? Does she know we are coming to pick her up as soon as we can.?

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Thinking about Yaebsira and scared to death that she will be here soon. Can we handle more change and upheaval? Can she?

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I am back facilitating Photography at OC. It feels great to be back and it feels too soon. Temesgen is with me. He does great. He likes watching everything that is going on and is happy to be lugged around in my backpack. The first day back I only had a sling and my back was killing me by the end of the day. My in-laws bought me an Ergo which is wonderful.


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Falling in love with my little man more each day. Two teeth pop out of his bottom gum. He looks so cute when he smiles.

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Dreaming of running away from home, working at a gas station in some state out west where the attendant still pumps. I will wear one of those blue jumpsuits that zip up the front and I will have a big lazy dog that follows me around but doesn’t touch me. At the end of the day I return to my very small, self-cleaning cabin that is lined with bookshelves holding all the books I have wanted to read.

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Two nights ago, lying in bed unable to sleep, I heard a voice whisper “Nigel”. We have been thinking about another name for Temesgen since we received his referral but nothing we thought of felt quite right. We decided to wait until he came home to see what name suited him. Over the past few weeks his African name became natural for us and we stopped focusing on a new name although so many people (especially everyone in my family!) has such a hard time with the pronunciation. Nigel is not a name we had ever discussed. I don’t remember ever hearing the name. I woke up Michael.
“Michael, Michael. Nigel. Do you know anyone named Nigel?“
He groaned and gurgled.
“Michael, I think we need to name him Nigel”
More groans and gurgled.
In the morning Michael remembered the song Making Plans For Nigel by the band XTC and played it for us. That day Mikaela told everyone she saw at OC that his new name was Nigel and Michael told everyone at work. (I told them: “My wife heard a voice in the middle of the night so his name is Nigel. That happens from time to time with her.”

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Last night Michael went to Lydia’s and picked up her old changing table. NO more diaper changes squatting on the floor. I feel liberated!!!

* This morning Mikaela wakes up like every other morning and is a horse.
“I am chocolate colored horse with a white mark on my forehead shaped like a heart. I am a Welsh Pony named Star.”
She trots off.
Michael is doing the dishes (a miracle, I tell you) . Nigel is babbling next to him in the high chair and I am trying to finish up this post. In this moment I love everyone and think, yes, we are going to make it, all of us together.

Ethiopian Update #4

Sunday, January 18th
A miracle has happened and Temesgen is sleeping soundly. (Although I will probably pay for this in the middle of the night.) I wanted to try to do one last update for everyone since I left you all hanging in Ethiopia right before Christmas. I wrote an update while I was still there but the internet and phones were down for the rest of our time there so I never sent it and I have not had any computer time since I came home. No surprise there!. I spoke with my sweet friend Elizabeth today and she urged me to forget about the other things on my plate and try to write about what has happened. The updates from our last days in Ethiopia are first followed by whatever I get to type quickly before Temesgen wakes up. Forgive me for choppy writing. I am not going to have any time for edits or revisions so this will be stream-of-whatever-consciousness I have left.

January 8th Thursday night

Contrasts
It is 3am here and I cannot sleep. In the US it is day. I have two African children because the world is unfair to some and fair to others. In the US we are broke, we are struggling to lead the middle class American life and in Africa we are rich. I now have secrets that I can tell no one. I am no longer sure that I am doing the right thing. I am trying to control my own breathing as I listen to the breath of Michael and Temesgen as they sleep.

I am sleepless for many reasons. Thoughts are spinning through my head so fast. I am mostly lost in thoughts about Yaebsira’s mother. Michael says Temesgen’s mother made the same choice as Yaebsira’s and I see this is true, but I never met her. I never held her hand, saw her kiss his picture or hugged her.
I am again facing the same powerlessness I felt as a child when I was told to eat all my food because there are people starving in Ethiopia and there was no way for me to help them. As a child, I remember thinking, how can eating more food help them? And now here I am in Ethiopia. I can’t feed all the people that beg at our car and I cannot save Yaebsira’s mother. At home I am poor and here I am rich and blessed above others and sleepless. Mixed in with my blessings is a sadness that is pulling me apart.

I need a distraction. I will try to tell you about some of the things that have happened. On Tuesday we brought Temesgen back to the hotel with us so we woke up with him on Christmas morning. It was exactly what Mikaela had asked for. Many months ago she said maybe we will get Temesgen for Christmas. She meant our Christmas but we were happy to have him as an Ethiopian Christmas present. I feel blessed beyond belief to have this beautiful, smart baby boy as our son. I can’t stop staring at him and kissing him.

The Christmas celebration at the orphanage was wonderful. I still can’t believe I was lucky enough to be a part of it. We were pretty tired. Every time Temesgen moved, I woke up, since I was not used to being with him and there were Ethiopian prayers and singing from a nearby loud speaker until 4am. Our friends Holly and Kenneth arrived at Hope early enough to witness the demise of our sheep. I have heard they have pictures but I have not seen them. The event happened in the same small court yard where all the children were. In the end nothing was wasted. They use every part of the sheep in some fashion. The Christmas meal consisted of many different forms of mutton. It is best that I did not know what parts I was eating.

When we first arrived at Axum, the new orphanage, it was relatively quiet. Only the babies were there and the staff and friends were busy running around preparing food and decorating.




They gave all the adoptive parents traditional, Ethiopian shirts to wear. Soon a bus arrived with all the older children. Chairs had been set up all around and the children arrived wearing new t-shirts that were color-coordinated to their age group. Yaebsira wore a bright green t-shirt with Amharic words that were translated to me as ‘pride in Ethiopia’. She was clutching an old plastic doll, not the one I had given her yesterday. Instead of sitting with her group she came and sat with Michael and me on the couch. The room became so crowded that it was almost impossible to move. Periodically she would skip away to join her new friends or dance and when she returned she would have a little piece of a cookie or lollipop that she would share with Michael or me. The children sang Ethiopian Christmas music and played various games. One included a string with a bead on it. Two children would stand together with an end of the string in their mouth and try to eat the string. The child to arrive at the bead first won. There was another game where they had to peel and eat a banana without using their hands and another one that was similar to our musical chairs. They moved the toddlers to the porch so that there was some space in the middle for dancing. Ethiopian dancing involves a great deal of shoulder movement back and forth while bobbing. The caretakers and the children danced together. Yaebsira danced with me and laughed as I tried to imitate the rapid shoulder action. We brought out our big suitcase filled with gifts and supplies and started to give them out. They called the teacher over and she cried when she saw all the school posters Barb had gotten for them and was very thankful for the flash cards. Another caregiver hugged the pile of scrubs Barb had collected. I wish you could have been here Barb to see how happy you made everyone with the donations you gave me to deliver. Next they dragged the suitcase into the main area in the middle of the children and we started to give out the beanie babies, necklaces, bracelet’s, balls, stickers and ballerinas. All the children sat and waited patiently until they were handed something. The only time there was any pushing was when we started to blow bubbles in the court yard and all the children tried to catch the bubbles and wanted a turn to try the ridiculous fish bubble blower we had bought in Italy. For the next trip I have to figure out how to bring a lot more bubbles for the children. How do they get forty some children age one to ten to sit in a room without moving, fighting or crying for hours? Finally the children were all served their food. They sat happily with their plates in their laps, eating with their right hands. I never saw any of the children spill anything or get any food on their clothes. Another miraculous feat. When all the children were done eating they served us. First they went around with a plastic bowl and pitcher so we could wash our hands. They delivered injera first, the fermented Ethiopian bread that is the staple of their diet. Next they kept arriving with different dishes to pile on top. I had been so nervous to eat the sheep but all the dishes were spicy and amazing. If you could see the kitchen where they produced all of this food you would not believe it. It was so small. They had to wash the children’s dishes outside in the courtyard at a pump so they could serve us. They started the coffee ceremony afterwards which takes a couple of hours. They roast the beans over a small fire then grind them by hand. The coffee is the best I have ever had with a faint taste of cardamom. We tried to call Mikaela when we got home but the phones were down and so was the internet.
The next day we dropped Temesgen off at Axum and headed to Bethel orphanage for the day. We drove for almost two hours to reach Bethel. Our throats were raw from the diesel fumes. When we finally arrived it was like discovering an oasis. Bethel is tucked into the side of a mountain. The air there is fresh and clean. There are fields and grass for the children to play. I wish all the children could be moved here. When we arrived they were in English class. They sat quietly and stared at me shyly. I delivered the cards and notes I had from some of their adoptive parents and took pictures of them. I felt the sadness of some of the older boys who do not have referrals, as they watched this. There are so many older children waiting for families. We met Esayas the ten year old boy that we sponsor. My heart ached to bring him home also. I gave the caretakers a big suitcase filled with writing supplies, sneakers and clothes. The children raced to the main house with the suitcase and soon all were undressing and trying on all the clothes and sneakers and then a fashion show evolved. Their shyness was completely gone and they modeled for me shouting “mom, take this picture” and they would pose again and again. We played soccer with all the new balls we brought and too soon it was time to go and make it through the diesel fumes again. By the time we made it back to Axum it was too late to go to the Hope and see Yaebsira. I was cursing the moving of the babies. I only have one more day with Yaebsira until sometime in March. I am acutely aware that all of this could change also.

When we returned to Axum there were several new babies. One still had the umbilical cord attached. Several were so tiny it was hard to believe they were alive. Some I know might not make it. The first day we arrived I delivered preemie formula for a baby named Abush. His American mama had shipped it to me to deliver. When I asked about him the caretakers just shrugged. Later that day I learned he had died the day before. Hopefully his formula will be helpful for these babies.

Last night we ate in the restaurant attached to the hotel. Apparently Thursday night is dance night in Addis. The music was so loud I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying at our table. My stomach was tied in knots and I could not eat. Temesgen was sleeping in the sling. How could he sleep through this noise? I recognized many of the songs but they have been altered to have a salsa beat and many couples were dancing. The salsa version of Hotel California was pretty funny. It was so dark they brought us candles when it is time to pay our bill.
Temesgen is crying and I need to go get him something to eat. By the time you read this we will be at the airport getting ready to fly home.
Donna


Traveling Home January 9th and 10th

The trip home was as surreal as the trip there. It takes forever and you feel as though time has stopped. Temesgen was a trooper. The only problem was his excessive diarrhea. We were lucky to have security so tight; otherwise I think our fellow passengers would have impaled us with any sharp object to be found. I can’t even imagine what that plane smelled like by the time we got off. We ran out of diapers before we reached Washington. We had gone through 9 outfits and 17 diapers since we left the hotel. Not pretty. Michael and I became a well-organized diaper changing duo relying on teamwork and large garbage bags across our laps. If you are ever going on a 20 something hour plan ride with an infant, let me know. We will share our much-practiced technique.
This time we made it through all security checks and customs without any problems. It cracks me up how serious and stern all the American customs officials are. In Italy and Ethiopia they were friendly and relaxed. I guess the Americans think if they look and act mean enough you might get nervous and confess. Yes! I got on the plane with a lethal weapon: it was my odorous son who could make a grown man weep with a single bowel movement.
We finally arrived in Philadelphia and were greeted by our beautiful daughter, Mikaela, my sister Barb and my in laws. I cried all the way down the escalator waiting to hug them. The rest you heard about in my father in law’s End Game report. Well, the end game for them is only the beginning for us.
When we arrived home to our very happy dog, we received more surprises. Mikaela’s very messy playroom had been transformed into a baby friendly romping ground complete with a wonderful welcome home banner and the third floor junk room had been changed into a private un-baby area playroom escape for Mikaela. She was so excited. I still can’t believe Lisa and Megan did this. Believe me, this was no easy feat. I am scared to go to our third floor because it is such a crazy insane mess. I can’t believe the bravery of these two incredible organized women. How did you do that? I bow to your power and your kindness. Mikaela loves the third floor space so much!!!




Sunday, January 18th
Is it possible that we have been home one week? It felt like one long day with short naps in between. Temesgen and I are still getting to know each other. I love the way he smiles at me. He pulls himself up, stands and wobbles back and forth and then falls back on his bottom and tries it again. I keep telling him it is too soon to walk but he is not listening. If he is not trying to walk then he wants to be held all the time. As would be expected, he is going through some tremendous stress and grief from all the changes he is going through. I am trying to call forth my super mama powers and split myself between Mikaela’s needs and Temesgen’s needs and stay in the moment. I am trying to remember how to get things done with one hand. We have had some very comical moments. He loves being in the sling but he has an incredible arm reach and grabs things so fast!! I tried to carry him in the sling on my back thinking I could then get more done. Wrong. He picks up things I can’t see. With lightening speed he managed to pick up a pot on the counter behind me and slam me over the head with it. Eh, baby, knock some sense into your mama and make me realize my To-Do list will only consist of being in the moment with my kids. That is really the hardest part, isn’t it? The stress comes from me having a different agenda from them. IF I can just let go of wanting to get something done, everything slows down and becomes easier. Unfortunately I am a doer so this is a hard lesson. Last night I ignored the laundry, the dishes and my messy house; I forgot about working on my plan for OC photography, the stress of trying to balance my obligations with my family’s needs and the 1400 emails that have piled up while I was gone. Mikaela put on a dress that she loves to dance in- it has a full skirt that spins- and we all danced to African music in the living room. Temesgen loved it. I don’t allow myself enough moments like this. Always, I feel behind in what I am ‘suppose’ to do- behind on birthday cards, thank you notes, organizing and laundry is piled so high it is falling off the chair. It is the contrast of what I think my life should be and what it actually is. And into this life came a nine-month-old baby. It is an odd experience to suddenly have a very active crawling, near walking babe in the house. He is my son and also a stranger. When you start with a newborn, you know they will be in the same spot where you put them down and you get a slow progression of activity. Temesgen’s energy level is startling. Mikaela is a great big sister. For the most part she has taken all the changes in stride and really enjoys him. She did have one maxed out episode during our first few sleepless nights. She sat up in bed about 3am and screamed, ”This is ridiculous. I can’t live like this. He is way too loud!!” And I was right there with her!! It was ridiculous!!! It is crazy loud in this house sometimes. On Friday I brought Temesgen into the Open Program when I dropped Mikaela off. Julia invited us to stay for a little bit and have the YP meet Temesgen. It was wonderful. It was a great experience for Mikaela to be able to share our experience with her friends. Thanks Julia. I miss everyone in the Friday Open and am sad to know I won’t be able to be in there again. (Not for a few years anyway.)

So here we are, still trying to sort out all of our Ethiopian experiences and hoping to travel to pick up our daughter sometime in March or April. It will be a big relief to have my family all on one continent. There are some experiences that change you forever. I am in the middle of such an experience and I feel as though my entire spirit is transforming. Sometimes it feels like the worse kind of growing pains and other times I feel as light as air and as strong as a lion. I am grateful for everyone. Your support has made this so much easier for me. I have been blessed with your wonderful meals, your supportive emails and calls. Thank you for being there for me, I couldn’t make it through all this without you.
Love,
Donna

Ethiopian Update #3

This update is written by the Damn Husband
January 6, Tuesday
It is fairly early in the evening, but it has been a most eventful day and an emotionally draining one - especially for Donna, so she is asleep next to our beautiful baby boy Temesgen and I am writing the daily update tonight. The day started out like day two, with an omelet cooked in clarified Ethiopian butter (like Indian ghee). This gives it a tan color and a ‘cooked too fast’ texture. There are so few of the ostensible fillings that it is more like a plain omelet with a couple of small
cheese and mushroom surprises during the eating, but we try not to be the ‘Ugly Americans’ and avoid complaining about not having enough filling in a country where many in the population would be thrilled to eat what we have available to us. We wash our omelets down with bottled water and coffee, which is the best coffee we’ve had in our lives, strong and fresh and very awakening.
One of our fellow Hope adopters, the general practice physician from near Houston we’ve been so happy to have with us - as he has assuaged our many fears of scabies and other dire illnesses in Temesgen - woke in the throes of violent gastro-intestinal distress and looked very unprepared for the act of standing let alone being aware enough for his and our appointments at the embassy. He had been eating copious quantities of the minted raw beef and other Ethiopian delicacies and assured us that, since one of his parents were Syrian and they had their own raw beef dish which he had eaten on many occasions, that he wouldn’t have a problem. Of course it may have just been that he accidentally wet his toothbrush out of habit in the city water supply like Donna did last night. Anyway, for him this was a major issue, but we were both feeling ok and our adventures were only just beginning.

Adventure #1 Where are our babies?
We went with Dawit our assigned driver to the orphanage as we had done during day one and day two but when we arrived we found the other Hopesters in a state of confusion, having just learned that all of our children had been moved over night to a new orphanage� for the babies. Donna and the rest were pretty much panicked at this point
since we had embassy dates in under an hour and that we had no idea that the children were going to be moved and no idea where they were. I was a less panicked, but only because of a side conversation I had had after our paperwork meeting on Monday in which the manager of the orphanage mentioned to me that he was heading off to make sure the new orphanage nearby was ready to be opened. While the others were commiserating about the lack of communication and the drivers were solidifying directions to the new orphanage (which fortunately was en route to the embassy) I, in my much less panicked state, overheard a conversation in Amharic between the orphanage nurse and our driver and I understood only one word: Yaebsira�. My curiosity peaked, and while the others continued in there conversation about the whereabouts of our children, my eyes followed our driver until he disappeared behind the multitude of drying sheets suspended from the criss-crossing clotheslines in the driveway. My eyes briefly fell on a beautiful round faced Ethiopian woman who was braiding hair from a chair in the far corner of the driveway. Shortly thereafter from behind the sheets came our driver and our daughter-to-be in a bright yellow T-shirt and with beautifully braided hair. Donna had not even begun to notice what had now become clear in my mind, so I placed my hand on her back and said “Donna it’s Yaebsira, right there, thus starting:

Adventure #2
Being totally unprepared to meet one’s future daughter and her mother while being already in the midst of another adventure: Donna said “What?!?” and then caught sight of the diminutive little girl from our photographs (definitely 4 years old) who separated from our driver and walked over to the woman braiding hair in the corner of
the driveway. Donna was very much shocked and Dawit returned to her saying “this is Yaebsira and her mother.� Now we were not expecting to see Yaebsira until the afternoon and even then were not expecting to see her at Hope at all but rather at the larger orphanage where most of the children are first processed. More lack of communication in a process rife with it. Donna was definitely not mentally prepared for this as she had been exhausted the night before and had gone to sleep instead of preparing questions for her mother like she had wanted to. While we stared from
halfway across the driveway, little Yaebsira walked over to Donna and said in a small sweet voice, in English “My name is Yaebsira (pronounced YOB-sih-rah) and I’m 4 years old and you are my mother”. Of course, Donna totally crashed into tears as she hugged and kissed her, but we were running up against our appointments and had to get on the road. We hurriedly walked over to Yaebsira’s mother with Dawit in tow and with him translating, came to understand that she would still be there when we got back. So with Donna’s mind reeling from having to leave in the midst of all of this, we rushed to the new orphanage a couple miles away and took a quick run into the bathroom after we located him. The caretakers (seemingly unknowing that he even had an embassy appointment) rushed around getting him ready. Then we traveled as rapidly as one can while avoiding the odd donkey and many randomly veering taxicabs and the teeming hordes of pedestrians to the embassy and university section of Addis, reached the embassy, left the drivers across the road and on a side street and proceeded into the first security structure on the perimeter of the embassy. Within moments after entering that building we experienced the short, but highly intense:

Adventure #3
“Michael,¦ my passport and my money – they’re gone!!!”
Now this was bad. The passport was REQUIRED to even get into the compound. We could not apply for Temesgen’s visa without both of us inside the compound. Donna had gone to the bathroom back at the orphanage and drove here to this point. Only two options: it was back at the orphanage, or- it had fallen off in the car. If it was the first, we were in deep doo-doo as the embassy was only open for a half day because of the Ethiopian Orthodox Christmas tomorrow and had no time to recover. We would have to stay for the weekend and then
some and rearrange all of our travel plans again. If it was in the car we would be ok. I dashed away from the embassy across the main road. This was probably not a smart thing to do what with Israel attacking Gaza and with embassies on alert in countries with sizable Muslim populations. (As I write this the Muslim call to prayer is echoing from the nearby mosque as if to punctuate this point.) Apparently the guards on the wall decided not to shoot me because I was lily white and running in the opposite direction, so I made it to the other side to find our drivers on the side- gone!
I cannot write what I said at this point, but I walked at a more reasonable pace back to the embassy walls and found Donna again and told her that the drivers were gone. Now we were both panicked. But before we could totally collapse in despair, Donna discovered a lumpy structure way up her torso just under her bra. Apparently, in the
process of attaching Temesgen to herself, the money belt had ridden all the way up under him and she hadn’t noticed it alongside all the new sensations of having a little boy riding her up front. WHEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After that things went well. After a short wait we were called up to a window where an embassy official asked us a couple questions about Temesgen’s case to see if it matched the official records. And then he said “His visa will be ready Friday. Congratulations” and we were done.

Things got emotional for Donna after this as we met with Yaebsira’s mother to get as much information as we could. For both of the children, our bottom line is that, until they are old enough to understand and be at peace with their own birth stories, they will remain private unless and until they choose to reveal them. Please don’t ask us for any more details than we offer and you will not be offended when we refuse to tell more. This is something our social worker told us was standard practice and is also something that we already believe in.
Donna watched carefully while Selamawit (Yaebsira’s mother) braided her hair. She is really good at this and this will take some serious practice for Donna and a PHd’s worth of study and finger exercises for me. We did find out that Yaebsira likes spaghetti and likes eggs (Mikaela will be thrilled!)
After hanging out for a while with Temesgen at the orphanage and taking many photos of Yaebsira with her mother, we headed home, bought some baby cereal and food and let Dawit go home for the holiday. Tomorrow the sheep will be ‘gone’ and many children will have full bellies. After petting the creature, I’m not sure I will try it and
Donna doesn’t like mutton at all so it looks like hotel meals for us before and after the Christmas party at Hope.

Enough of my epic for now. Thanks for keeping us in your thoughts and
prayers. We love you all.

Mike

Ethiopian Update #2

Monday, January 5

Ah, another wonderful Ethiopian day. We started early at the orphanage going over paperwork and we had a lot of time to snuggle the babies and play with the older children. I still can’t believe what incredible care the children get. They are so happy. We are also lucky to be sharing this experience with two other adopting families. Our boy Temesgen is wonderful.

He gave me a lot of smiles today and I was amazed at the amount of food this Buddha baby can pack away.

He was so skinny in his referral picture- it is amazing to see how round he is now!! He is still giving Michael the “eye” no matter how much Michael tried to get him to smile. We had the adventure today of picking up a sheep for Christmas dinner at the orphanage. For a gal who spent many years as a vegetarian, literally leading the sheep to slaughter was quite the challenge. Our driver took us to one spot- a small dirt road with lots of sheep roaming around and asked about prices. After arguing back and forth with the guy in Amharic, we all got back in the car because the price was too much and the sheep looked too old.

The second place was along the side of a large highway with sheep milling around in the dust.

Again they haggled for a while and then Dawit turned to me and said which one do you want? As if I know how to pick out a good sheep for dinner! They pulled several sheep out of the herd and stood them up on their hind legs (I’m still not sure what I was suppose to be looking for) and showed us their teeth.



It was Dawit who ended up picking out the sheep and within minutes it was in the trunk of his car. Michael paid them and then some men next to the man we paid started asking for more money for some kind of commission.

Dawit and Michael get back into the car and I try to get back into the car but they wouldn’t let me shut my door and continue holding their hand out. Dawit started driving away and we escaped with my heart beating pretty fast and my door flapping.

At Hope they were thrilled to have the sheep. (Dawit had some cleaning up to do in the trunk) Some of the children clapped. In the US the children would have run up to pet the sheep but here they were happy because they saw dinner. When we left the sheep was tied up in the court yard munching on some dry grass.

We went to the Hilton to exchange money and have lunch. It felt like an extravagant culture shock. After passing through a car check point and going through a metal detector and a security pat down, we passed into the land of the rich. Lush green lawns (the first green thing we have seen here),

an enormous pool, cabanas, fancy stores and several restaurants.

I was once again reminded of such inequality in this world. It made seeing the beggars along the side of the road all the more painful when we left. We then headed to the biggest outside market in Addis to complete the contrast. The best way I can describe it is to imagine taking Canal Street in Manhattan, enlarging it ten fold, don’t take the trash out for a year and construct most of the buildings out of various pieces of tin and you might come close to imagining this market. It is not a tourist place. We were traveling in two cars with the other families and they had a policeman bang on their car and look at them like they were crazy and tell them to roll their windows up. We were stopped by an officer and Dawit was asked to produce his license and then told to get moving.
A few shots of the market.








And finally, a quiet dinner in the hotel that took over two hours and cost eight dollars for Michael and me. Service is Ethiopian style: when they get around to it, but the food was good.

Our US Embassy appointment is tomorrow.

Our Ethiopian Adventure

I could not access my blog in Ethiopia so finally i am uploading the updates from my trip. Here is the first one.

Sunday, January 4th 2009

I don't know how far into this update I will get tonight but I will try. We are very tired and have not had much sleep over the past few days and all that we did have was achieved in an upright position. After a rough start that included a missed flight, a flat tire, a full body search at security that included every item we had with us being pulled out and swiped with bomb sensitive cloths, we were finally on our way to Italy. We tried to make the best of our 16 hour layover in Rome and we explored a bit of the city. It was cold and rainy and we had no coats- hey we thought we were heading to Ethiopia!- but we didn't let that stop us. We toured the Piazza Venezia,

lit candles for our moms at the Basilica dis Maria Sopra Minerva,


This statue was right outside the church. I wish I knew the story about it.

looked with amazement at the Pantheon


and ate a wonderful Italian mean at the M. Agrippa al Pantheon.


This pup waited patiently outside the restaurant.

Then we headed to the Fontana di Trevi where I was thrown back in time. Many years ago, when I was young (carefree and reckless) I swam in that fountain with a friend. I hadn't thought about that in years!

After hours of walking, Michael and I returned to the airport soggy and cold and waited another 7½ hours for our flight. I spoke to Mikaela who is having a great time. When I got off the phone I sobbed into my cappuccino. I can't believe how much I miss her. Thanks Barb,for taking such good care of my baby.
We walked for hours around Rome. Here are some of the things we saw.


These guys had to be ready to flee in a moments notice. Once in a while they would suddenly pick up all their bags and run with the police chasing them. Ten minutes later they would be back doing business.





No Hummers on these streets


Nice advertising. Very subtle...



Getting tired of hoofing it around in the rain for hours.


I wonder how long she has waited for her flight.

The Damn Husband checks out the scenery as we wait for our flight.


Please Miss, help us get to Addis.



When we finally took off on Ethiopian Air to Addis, I slept the whole way. I woke up excited to see my children. Miraculously all our luggage arrived and our driver was waiting for us. On the car ride to the hotel I was relishing all the sights and sounds with pleasure. Once we arrived at the hotel we met two other couples who were heading
to the orphanage to see their children. We thought we would be following after them shortly but we couldn't get hold of our driver or our agency rep who was suppose to meet us to finish up paper work for our Embassy appointment. Michael was extremely jet lagged and I wouldn't let him sleep because I was sure any minute we would get picked up.


He ended up taking a nap and I ended up nearly going insane waiting. When we finally got a driver and arrived at Hope no one knewwe were coming and it was nap time for the babies. The caretakers were so sweet to let us come in. When we walked in they were trying to put a clean outfit on Temesgen and clean up his face.


He is so cute. Temesgen has the sweetest smile. He can stand by himself and crawl anywhere he wants. I can't find the words to describe how it felt to walk into that room and finally see him and kiss his soft feet.


He had a mild curiosity about me and let me hold him for a while but his love was saved for one of the caretakers who doted on him. Whenever he saw her his big eyes lit up and he smiled.




Will this dear sweet babe ever give me that look? I am reminded again that this joyous meeting for me is nothing but grief for him when I eventually take him away from everything he knows and loves. Yes, I am trusting that eventually, he will love his new life but the transition I know will be hard for him.

We were very hungry by the time we made it back to the hotel and we joined the other two couples at an Ethiopian restaurant where they perform traditional dances.


Michael couldn't resist and had to partake in the raw beef, hopefully he won't be sorry later.





When the Damn Husband was almost falling off his chair with exhaustion, I finally agreed to go back to the hotel. He is sleeping as I write this.
I know this update is long and it doesn't even cover a tiny tip of what we have experienced. I was not able to see my daughter, Yaebsira. Someone said she was still down in Nazaret and someone else said she was at a doctor's appointment. I will find out in the morning.