Heartache

Adoption holds within itself, many hidden surprises.  The greatest for me has been the degree of heartache involved. It's not always a bad ache, sometimes it's a love bursting kind of ache, but at other times, it's an ache with a grief so heavy, I don't know where to go with it.

Emmebt, Tizi's birth mom was scheduled for her last US Embassy hearing yesterday.  The idea of three meetings with the birth mom is hard for me to justify.  It feels like pulling a scab from a wound that is trying to heal itself, and then repeating it three times over.  When we left Ethiopia, I said to anyone that would listen, "It's going to be an issue getting Emmebt to this third hearing."  At the time I felt it more as a logistical struggle.  It hurt me that Emmebt would need to again tell those in authority that indeed she was agreeing to adopt her baby to the VanDam family.  It frustrated me that we needed this final step completed before we could pick up Tizabit.  But playing by the rules is part of this program, so play by the rules we must.

If only the issue had been logistics and only the frustation, the rules.....on May 28 we received a phone call that Emmebt's eight year old son had died over the week-end.  Her only child besides Tizabit.  Her only child living in Ethiopia.  I picked up the kids from school and told them what had happened.  The combination of emotions in their eyes, along with the question, "Now what Mom?" was the end.  I simply said, "I don't know what, but I do know this, we need to pray for Emmebt in a fierce way.  We need to pray that she is in a place surrounded by people that can love her through this horror.  Because we know that she recently relocated, we then need to pray that if she is not in company with those that love her, she is in contact with those that SEE her...really see her."

I kept thinking back to our brief time with Emmebt and remembering what I was able to see in her.  I wonder if those around her notice that she places her hand near her mouth when she feels shy or uncertain.  I hope they see how bravely she makes eye contact with strangers, I loved that about her. I wonder if they notice she drops her eyes when she is thinking or when you are really looking at her.  I pray that they see her gentle touch.  I'll never forget it.  When we first met Emmebt, we gave her a photo book of Tizi and our family.  When we handed it to her, she held it like a treasure.  She looked at our interpretor and he told her it was hers to keep, and then the most beautiful moment, that gentle touch.  She took her fingers and on the front cover, which was a picture of beaming, beautiful Tizi, she brushed her fingers over Tizi's face again and again and just beamed.  She brushed them like she was touching Tizi herself.  We were lost to her for a period of time and it still holds in my heart as one of the only, truly private looks we were allowed into the beauty of who Emmebt is.   I need others to see that in her.  Since that time, I have taken our own book, a duplicate of the one we gave Emmebt and I've practiced that "Emmebt brush."  It's something I need to give to Tizi someday.  It's something I need to save for myself.

So with this new piece of news, we grieve heavily for Emmebt.  We now claim another piece of the heartache of adoption.  At dinner last night, we were discussing what would happen next.  The Embassy date was missed, the finalization of the adoption was in question and our return trip was unknown.  Levi summed it up when he said, "It's about Emmebt now."  Immediately, each of the kids agreed, as much as we want what we want when it comes to getting Tizi home, Emmebt is left with nothing and that cannot go unnoticed.  It was then that I saw how far we have come.  When Emmebt missed her first court appearance and we were delayed for two weeks, we were frustrated and accusing, not considerate of life outside of our convenience.  In Levi's words and through the kids' responses, it humbled me to see where God has grown their hearts to see into the hearts of others.

When we heard of Kedir's death, we immediately put in a request that Emmebt's Embassy appointment be waived because of her personal tragedy.  Tonight we learn that our request is granted.  With this news, we will begin making plans to return to Ethiopia to collect Tizabit.  But now, we plan with heavy hearts.  The birth mom that has gifted us with her beautiful baby, has gifted us with all that she has left in this world.  My heart aches.

It aches for Emmebt and it aches for all of the Emmebt's I've missed in my world.  How often have I bothered to really see people.  As grief-filled as Emmebt's story is, this stories is playing out everywhere.  The time, the love, the energy it takes to care about someone is such a scary thing.  It makes the good, greater and the hurt, deeper.  I've learned that through Emmebt.  There are so many things I want to do for her and say to her, but in the end, it's mostly stuff that will perhaps make me feel better, it's mostly stuff about me.  I'm not sure if I'll ever meet up with Emmebt again, but I am living like I will and when we do meet up, I want her to know that because of her, I really tried to see people.  That because of her, I tried a little harder to look outside of myself.  If I ever do see Emmebt again, I want to show her this family of ours, that shared a piece of her heartache and grew into different people, hopefully better people.

Goodbye.....

We arrived home safely last night after 26 hours of travel.  All went smoothly, thank you for your prayers.

Prior to leaving Addis, we were allowed our final goodbye visit with Tizi.  We took that time to hold her when she would allow us to, play with her and soak her in.  Tizi is in a good place at Jane's House.  She is loved fiercely by a staff that adores her.  She adores them back and I understand why.  I adore them too.  They touch and coddle and cluck at each of the children as we do our own.  The minute a cry is heard, it strikes me how quickly staff come running.  While we were visiting the orphanage, the entry gate was left open slightly.  I went over to push it shut saying we didn't want any escapees and Levi said, "Why Mom? They won't leave.  They love it here."  He's right.  Even with the gate opened, exposing a world outside of their own, none of the children rushed to it.  They were home.  They were safe.

It's knowing that, realizing that Jane's House is currently Tizi's home, that causes me fear. The beep of our driver came announcing we needed to leave and collectively we all groaned.  It almost sounded staged to the point where the staff laughed at us.  We each said goodbye to Tizi and we each cried.  Tizi continued as if it were any other day.  I wonder what she thinks of us or who she thinks we might be.  Our goodbye held great significance to us and meant little to Tizi.

Mula, the head caregiver, so graciously tried to connect Tizi to us and to encourage Tizi to let us hold her and love on her throughout our time together.  Often Tizi would connect, but her choice of love still comes from her caregivers. They are her "mama", they are her safety.  This is what we are going to be removing Tizi from and as much as I long for her to be with us, I feel fear and sadness knowing what's in store for Tizi.

We made it to the airport and as I looked at Marc and the kids, their eyes were sad and hollow.  We talked, but it was about Tizi.  I talked about what Tizi will feel when we take her with us.  Will she scream?  Will she hate it? Love it?  Will she be afraid?

Mula describes Tizi as a "happy baby, she love play with her friends. She happy," but in the same sentence, Mula said, "Tizi have moods"  (oh oh...know what that's about!)  Our family knows "moods", as passionate as we are, we have our moods!  What if she has a "mood" her entire trip home?  Yikes, I need to close that subject in my mind!  The kids kept telling me to stop being negative.  I don't feel negative.  I feel the reality that we are taking a two year old baby from her safe nest.  I feel the reality that this will be Tizi's second great loss in her short life.  I feel the truth that someday we will need to walk Tizi through her grief and her loss.  I feel scared.

On the airplane, Jake fell into me in his sleep.  I leaned back into him and breathed him in as I no longer get the privilege often, and I smelled Ethiopia.  I smelled it to the point that I breathed in his hair again, just to make sure. (for those who have been there, you will know the smell) It wasn't a bad smell, but it is  distinct.  It smells like their spices, their car exhaust, their people and their wind. Blended together, it creates the smell that links me to Ethiopia.  I've noticed it also on the babies at the orphanage.  When I hold them, it's not Johnson and Johnson that I smell, instead they all smell a little spicy with a touch of something sharp thrown in, they all smell like Ethiopia.  It struck me, that in 10 short days, our bodies had permeated this world, this smell.  I wonder what our world is going to smell like to Tizi?  I wonder if our first shower home will wash this smell from us.  I hope not.  This smell is owned by Tizi, I want us to own it too.

God unraveled our hearts on this trip.  At first, I felt it like a slow thread pull.  As we stayed longer, the pace of the thread pull quickened and as we sat in the airplane and all I had time to do was think, I could only visualize our hearts, raw and open with a heap of raveled thread laying along side.  What to do with these unraveled hearts?  That's the question we need to live out until we are joined with Tizi again.  Josie continued to say, "I don't want to be here. I want to stay in Ethiopia." But "here" is where God has us.  "Here" is where God wants us to be.  In knowing that, I want to do "here" right.

I'm not sure how to do that or what it will look like.  As we got closer to home, the kids started to reconnect.  I could see it and hear it.  They began talking about school, about their sport schedules, about their friends.  They talked about how different our home life was from Ethiopia and about how they would explain Tizi's home to their friends.  How will we connect these two worlds?

Tizi doesn't know this, but she impacted each of us in a way that left a hole in our hearts.  The hole weighs about 21 pounds, with beautiful black eyes and a smile you long to see again and again and again.   This pint size hole has managed to weigh us down in ways I've never imagined.  It's caused us to think and see our world differently.  I hope that this weight, this hole in our hearts is not quickly filled with our world.  I hope it remains open and tender and willing to see and take in the people in our world that will be blessed by Ethiopia's impact, by Tizi's impact.  Maybe that's exactly why we needed to come back to our "here,"  our world, empty handed.  Maybe God needs us to practice and strengthen our hole-filled hearts so that we are ready to receive Tizi's love. Maybe God needs us to be more willing, more open to pass along His love.  It seems our "here" is exactly the place we need to be.