Journeys

We've completed the first leg of our journey to pick up Tizi.  Tomorrow we leave Washington DC for Addis Ababa.  This trip already feels so different.  This trip doesn't include Levi, Jake or Josie and it doesn't include the level of anticipation that we traveled with the first time.  This trip is much about reflection.

In reflecting, I'm amazed by how much we've grown and changed and learned through this journey.  When you read this someday Tizi, I don't want you to feel that you are the only child we journeyed to and I don't want you to feel that the journey was in any way a negative thing.  In the past year and a half, it has become clear to me that we've journeyed to meet each of our children.  It's also clear that the journey itself is what prepared us for the much anticipated child.

When I look back at our journey to meet Levi and Jake, I hardly recognize Marc or myself.  Much went into the planning of those two.  What started as four, quickly became two and it was at that time that I first began to consider how fragile and delicate and miraculous new life is.  It was a Friday afternoon and we were seated in our specialist's office.  He shared that we had two heart beats, but Baby B's wasn't strong and he didn't anticipate much.  We were sent home and were told to come back again Monday morning to see where we were at.  I remember little about the week-end, but still clearly recall the Monday morning meeting.  As he was testing, I focused on his face trying to prepare myself for what he was going to tell us.  He said, "well, it looks like we've got ourselves a fighter!"  and that fighter, that Baby B, our Jake, took hold of life and held on tight.  Marc was thrilled to learn we were having multiples, which surprised me as he is the baby in his family and up to that point, had never babysat a day in his life, but apparently the more the merrier to him.  I on the other hand was a bit freaked.  I didn't know enough to realize exactly what I was freaked about, but I did know enough that two babies would drastically change our world.  At 20 weeks I was put on full bed rest, thankfully in our home.  We began to meet twice weekly with our doctor to monitor the babies growth.  I'm pretty sure I was a model student.  What they said, I did. Somewhat surprising, because by all accounts, I'm not the best rule abider, but I did know that as much as having two babies scared me, it was two babies that I wanted to have!  It was during that time, that waiting and growing babies that I learned the lessons of giving things up, of allowing others to serve me and the important lesson that just because you slow your life down, it doesn't mean your life stops.  Sadly, I haven't always claimed what I've learned during that waiting period, but what I did learn has changed my world.

Because we were at the doctor so often and were given every detail about our babies from head circumference to femur length, we chose not to know the gender.  There is something to be said about the element of surprise.  As sick as I was when Levi and Jake arrived, I knew all that had gone into preparing for them, into journeying towards them, had been worth it.  Marc and I were not natural at parenting, in fact, in our clumsiness and anxiousness, we began a new leg in our life trek, this time as parents, but the journey itself, did much to prepare us for what lie ahead.

The journey to meet Josie looked completely different then the boys.  We were told by our doctor that unless we did the fertility program again, we would have no more children.  Because of my pregnancy and because I didn't carry multiples well, we decided that was okay and felt really grateful for what we had been given.  My doctor expressed concern about future regret, but we felt confident in our decision.  We expected our family complete at two.  It was in our journey to Josie that we learned my oldest brother was diagnosed with terminal cancer and given two weeks to two months to live.  We knew nothing of Josie at the time.

Our family went into a tailspin.  We were devastated with a grief that paralyzed, but believed in miracles and hope and healing.  There are six kids in our family and during Rick's sickness, we each took on our childhood roles, but in adult versions.  Each of us had a task that reflected the individual personality.  I still feel comforted when I look back at that time and recall those personalities.

I  remember the very place where Tom would sit, right along side Rick's head.  I still see how he would touch Rick's forehead when he spoke to him.  I hear Donny's loud, but optimistic voice.  His voice never sounded too loud, it just sounded hopeful.  At the time, Deborah lived in New York and on her first trip home, as she floated into the house (she floats, our Deborah) Rick took her in his arms and said, "now our circle is complete" and having her home with us, made that true.  Russell, as the family baby, had always had Dad and Mom and five additional co-parents.  He carried his heart heavy and burden deep.   It was during that time I remember thinking, "good, our family does death together, that works for me."

Little did I know that as we were helping Rick prepare for heaven, Josie was in the midst of all of it. Our journey to Josie felt like it took exactly 80 days.  The number of days from Rick's death to Josie's birth.  It was the days prior to Josie's birth, when she was immersed in a love system so strong that it believed in Lazarus type miracles that Josie grew.  I'm convinced that Josie's personality is much about those that surrounded her during those difficult months.  Our journey to Josie was saturated in love and hope and grief.  Our journey to Josie taught me lessons on holding on and letting go.  It taught me that in life there is death and in death there is life.  Our journey to Josie still holds as one of the dearest, saddest, sweetest times in my life.  Our journey to Josie, brought us Josie.

So you see Tizi, God has gifted us with journeys towards meeting each of you.  Your journey has been recorded in more detail and covers more miles, but carries with it the same amount of gifts.  Gifts that teach me that life is in the journey.  Gifts that remind me that hard times and times of rejoicing both need to be there, for without one, the other doesn't feel the same.  Your journey Tizabit, has in itself been a beautiful gift, a gift that is dearer because of the journeys gone before.  Your journey allowed our entire family to take part, to walk together.  Your journey Tizabit brought us to you!!