Leaving on a jet plane

Lufthansa Flight, JFK to Germany

Almost everyone is asleep, on our night flight and my brain is racing. I was looking out the window, and I saw Orion, but we were beside him not below. I was wondering about Lulu-B and her birth family and how sad they must be to not have her. I know Eli’s birth family gave him so many gifts, his smile, his beautiful dark hair, his athletic, his open hearted patient good nature. I know he doesn't get his patience from me! I know we share so much, and I know he is in my heart, and hopefully I will be in his as much as I am now, and boy, my heart aches for his beautiful birth mother. I wonder what gifts Lulu’s first family gave her? Her strong personality? Her incredible drive? I hope we can make her feel safe and loved.

I am reading the Kabul Beauty School. It is a lovely book, a true story, about a woman from a small town who goes to Afghanistan and starts a beauty school, to teach women to cut and dye hair and often, end up supporting their families. It is amazing, reading the stories. And I think of the book, My Father's Daughter, another true story, by an adult Ethiopian/English Adoptee, and how her story of being found/meeting her birth family is so moving. The stars are overhead and they are the same in Ethiopia and Guatemala and even in the US. The moon shines down on all these countries, and together our family is connected to families, to people, we may never meet, a world away. Thank you for making our family so perfect.

Ethiopia is very far away, as I can tell you, flying there twice in a season. It takes a long time to get there, but Addis and the Ethiopian people have captured our hearts. I’ve been thinking a lot about how adoption is wonderful and sad; sad to take away the great parts of these cultures, the rich proud history of Ethiopians, the rich, ancient history of the Maya and Guatemala, and to give our children love, but in giving that love, taking away a cultural passport I can not give back to them. To be black in Africa, in Ethiopia, can a proud thing, a thing of fitting in your skin, to know the passwords, the looks, the way to be. To be black in a country where everyone is black, to be brown in a country where everyone is brown, to know the language, to know, just like E’s children’s book, how to be.

I know in my heart that Eli and Lulu are mine; I also know that by being part of our family, we have taken away a passport to part of who they are, and I know that will make them sad some days. I also know they are a gift, nothing more than everything we hoped for. I feel so very, very lucky, like the universe loves us, more than I can say.

I am nervous. What if she doesn't like our family? What if it is a bad fit for her? All I want for her is happiness, not heartbreak. We are on this adventure, leaving E with his grandparents, alone, for the first time. The original dessert. He isn't really alone, and I hope he doesn't see it that way. Although, I imagine he will, just a bit. He does get very worried about being alone. Terrified in fact. I hope he can be as brave as he was today. I didn't leave him little notes, I should have. I got worried if we were delayed that there wouldn't be enough. I should have left little notes, one for each day.

Our program director told us Ethiopians like her family call children the dessert; after the dinner party, at the end, who comes in for kisses and sweetness, but the children, all dressed in their pajamas, clean and ready for bed, just good enough to kiss and send to bed, the dessert.

I have no idea what I forgot. Hair oil. Did I bring enough formula, outfits for Lulu, bottle inserts? I know I didn't find the book on cars I wanted for Ibrihim, and I didn't find the perfect gifts for the nannies, I worry that I brought too much, I worry I brought not enough, crazy but true. I worry that Lulu will like us; I worry that something might go wrong.

My dear husband and I both worry. We really don't believe that babies come home. I know she is going to and I know, in my heart, as much as many say it isn't true, I know both our children picked us. I know that Ms L. D. Geneli is correct when she says that every adopted child she has done hypnotherapy with says that in the bardo, they picked their family, both their first family and their second, and that is what I believe. I believe my two beautiful children picked us.

MDH knows, I hope we adopt another. In a few years. I want to play violin some more, raise Miss Lulu-B a bit and adopt one or two more. I think I am crazy, but maybe we could do the two not one campaign mdh started with this adoption. I read with avid interest on the big Ethiopian site, the discussions of two not one. I disagree with the people who say it is greedy to do so, but I do think attaching with two at the same time, with different needs would be a big, big job. I thought about it when MDH was on the two not one campaign and I thought and thought. I decided that I couldn't possibly do it, and play music, still give our first boy love and meet a 3 year old and a baby. I couldn't figure out how I would do it and stay sane.

I wonder what visiting Ethiopia this time with a baby will be like, once again, taking the dessert to places that people don't usually take little ones. I did pack the baby carrier; I did pack the baby diaper backpack. I also packed 5 sky balls, crazy but true. I know there will not be enough for all the people that should have them.

I look forward to returning to Guatemala, to Ethiopia, with our children and to learn more and more about the two cultures. It is such a huge responsibility, trying to raise good children, to give them love. Sometimes, I feel anytime I do a stupid parent mistake, like the eyes of the world are on us, just for a moment. It is true for all parents, but a huge one for our multicultural family. In our family, we say, we are a little bit white, a little bit brown and now, a little bit black. I often say to young E, the original desert, I am brown in my heart, and it makes me sad not to be brown like you.

Off onto the next chapter of our lives, almost begun, not quite, waiting, worrying, wondering. I want the birth families of our children to know how much we would like to say thank you, thank you, thank you. Our family is so important to us, so very, very important. We will love your child, they are in our hearts and in our minds, always.

As will you. Thank you.