The "Birth" Story

Comparing the adoption process to giving birth is just plain unfair to both groups.  (I say this light-heartedly, FYI.)  I had a mental tendency to relate EVERYTHING to labor..adoption paperwork was the equivalence of labor...waiting for a referral was the equivalence of labor...waiting to bring our child home was the equivalence of labor....  On one hand, the adoption process can be just plain tough!  And on the other hand, I have a feeling that none of those things is equivalent to labor.  Whatever journey one takes to motherhood, there is struggle involved.

Our plane ride home with a very busy 17-month-old:  In hindsight, it is my "labor experience."  I dreaded it.  I psyched myself up for it.  It was tough.  I wish I'd had an epidural.  I knew that it would be over (relatively) soon.  And I knew the whole thing was necessary to move forward with motherhood.  This is the closest it gets to my "birthing" experience!

One thing that became VERY worth it: we upgraded to business class.  It was a fraction of the cost of buying a business class ticket up front.  So many people were trying to fly from Addis to DC that particular day that Ethiopian Air added a second flight/plane at the last minute.  The great news was that instead of business class being the only available option (super expensive), we had the option of purchasing economy class tickets, which we then upgraded to business class (much less expensive).  The not so great news was that the second flight that was added was on an older plane.  So business class was a little less "shiny" and a little more old school.  A little disappointing, but no biggie.

In our old-school business class, I was so very thankful for:

Extra leg room (for our busy toddler to run among our seats)

MUCH better food (a bigger luxury than you'd initially think when you consider the flight was 19 hours long!)

Less people-to-restroom ratio (see above point)

Business class lounge in the Addis airport

Ethiopian Air requests that you arrive at least 3-4 hours in advance before take-off.  We arrived around 6pm for our 10pm flight.  A large portion of this time is spent waiting in lines...the line to put your luggage through the xray machine...the line for the ticket counter...the line for customs.  For anyone preparing for this type of trip, our Ergo baby carrier was ESSENTIAL for standing in all these lines with a toddler!  After the customs line, you entered the portion of the airport that had restaurants, gift shops, and the business class lounge...which...was...awesome.  A buffet of food, all types of drinks, nice restrooms, and tons of couches and chairs set up around televisions--all out of the way of the regular bustle of the airport.  (Already worth the upgrade!)

About an hour before our flight, we headed to our gate, which had its own separate security line--this is the one where we had to take out our liquids, take off our shoes & jackets, etc.  After getting through the long line, there was more waiting to board the plane.  

We were in the very front row of business class, which (thankfully) was not full.  I was super nervous about being in business class with a noisy child--I dreaded the eye-rolling and angry glares.  Aside from one or two snooty passengers, most people were actually quite gracious.  (Life lesson: Please, Lord, let me never forget this trip when I am the one feeling huffy about young children seated near me on airplanes!)  

To say Rhet was excited about being on an airplane would be an understatement.  And there was no way anyone was going to make her sit down.  Which was unfortunate, because the flight attendants required us to buckle her in one of our laps during take-off and landing.  That was definitely 15 minutes of torture right there, and that's all I'll say about that.

Taking off at 10pm played in our favor.  We had not given Rhet an afternoon nap that day, hoping that by the time we took off that evening she would be so exhausted she'd sleep for half the flight.  Rhet DID fall asleep.  For about 2 hours.  And then she woke up when we landed in Rome.  

The return flight required refueling in Rome for about an hour.  Passengers could get up and walk around, but we were not permitted to leave the airplane.  During this portion of time, Rhet became good and awake.

By the time we took off (causing yet another fit due to seatbelt restraints), Rhet was ready to PLAY.  Who cares if it was the middle of the night in Ethiopian time?  We were in a supercool room with tons to see and do!  What did we do for the remaining 15 hours of the flight?  It is a haze.  I know my brain is providing a mental block for my own sanity's sake.  :)

I remember:

Walking up and down the aisles from our row to the veeeeeeery back of the plane to the front again.  Up & down, up & down.  

Refilling Rhet's plastic cup of ice in the middle vestibule of the plane over & over again.

Occasionally, a sweet flight attendant would take Rhet with her and disappear for 20 minutes at a time. In normal occasions, this would stress me out.  In this occasion, it was a God-send.

And that's it.  Seriously.  The three of us (my mom, Nick, and I) took turns walking the length of the plane on each side with her for most of the trip.  It is probably one of the least fun things I have every done, and I would prefer to never think about it again!  (Sorry I'm being so dramatic, but it's the truth for me!)  

We landed in DC at 8am or something like that (US Eastern time).  After de-boarding the plane, we walked down some hallways to a people mover, which took us to another building, which housed customs.  We stood in line and when we reached the front, we presented the huge sealed packet of paperwork that we had received with Rhet's visa from the US Embassy in Addis.  The customs agent open the folder and briefly looked at the contents, then tossed the packet in a corner and waived us through.  

SO anti-climactic!  How about, "Congratulations on your US citizenship, little lady!" or "Wow--what a lot of paperwork--good job?"  Geez.  Whatever.

Next came one of my favorite parts of both trips: the bathrooms in the customs baggage claim of Dulles airport.  They are so clean and awesome.  After spending a month in a third world country, I could've cried as I sat on my first American toilet.  I sound like a spoiled snobby brat, I know, but BOY do I love American toilets.  And the changing tables!  Nick and my mom picked our luggage off of the carousels while I took Rhet to get cleaned up in the bathrooms.  We emerged with a new dress on Rhet and a refreshed spirit in me.  (I'm telling you, those toilets are amazing.  Ok, I'll stop now.)

We entered another line to re-book our luggage and check in for our domestic flights.  Then we headed to our terminal.  Mom and the rest of us were only several gates apart, so we settled down and partook of our first "meal" on American soil: the Starbucks Frappuccino.  I had mocha coconut, Nick had double chocolate chip, and my mom had a chai latte.  Rhet loved my mom's and mine, and she turned her nose up at Nick's.  The girl LOVES coffee & tea.  :)

Our next flight wasn't for hours, so we let Rhet run around the airport and expend as much energy as possible.  Nick and my mom joyfully turned on their iPhones--alas, mine was still frozen from that very first flight four weeks earlier.  (Boohoo.  Poor spoiled me.)  

My mom left first for her flight to Atlanta.  Shortly thereafter, it was time for our next leg of the trip to Chicago.  After boarding, I remembered the mostly helpful toy I brought on our trip.  Ironically, I did not bring it from home--I "borrowed" it on a whim as we were leaving the guest house.  It was a stack of about 5 square Duplo Legos.  Rhet had taken an interest in the Legos in the last day or so before we left, and the little stack kept her occupied through liftoff for the flights to Chicago AND Memphis.  Praise. the. Lord.  Extra praise: by this time, it was the middle of the night in Ethiopia again and sleep deprivation finally caught up with Rhet.  She conked out for the entire flight to Chicago.

We had a several hour layover in Chicago.  Rhet ran around some more, played with Legos some more, and promptly spit out the first french fry she tried.  She did, however, drink a whole liter of milk.  Which caused a small fiasco when I took her to the restroom to change her diaper, they didn't have changing tables, and she wouldn't lay down on the sink counter, so I tried changing the diaper standing up, and she peed all over her leggings, socks, shoes, counter, and me.  Oops.  I stripped her down, changed her diaper, and took her back to the gate in just her diaper.  We dug the other dress (from the overseas flight) out of our carry-on, and just left her bare-legged and bare-footed.  My pants (fortunately) were quick-drying, and my v-neck cotton shirt by then had become a deeeep v-neck shirt. We laughed at ourselves and repeated our mantra: "This will all be over soon."  :)

After boarding the flight from Chicago to Memphis, I received a surprise.  Apparently I was not yet skilled in the art of putting a diaper on a vertical, wiggly toddler.  It was crooked on Rhet's little booty, and she peed right out the side and into my lap.  *Sigh/giggle*

(Dear North Face,

Your convertible outdoors pants/shorts are the best EVER.

Love, 

A Peed-On Mom)

It was a crazy feeling, the closer and closer we got to Memphis.  I just couldn't believe we were really going to be home.  All three of us would walk through that front door, plop our bags down (to be unpacked several weeks later), and settle into our new/same-ole home with our...CHILD!

As our plane touched down in the land of the Delta blues (no rain), I was just filled with so much weary gratitude.  

When we exited the airport, the whoosh of the automatic doors blew 100+ degree air in our faces, and I put our sleeping baby in her car seat.  (Nick had forgotten to change the height of the straps on the seat, so we actually smooshed our baby into her car seat...haha.)  

(We had requested no friends/family meet us at the airport, for fear of overwhelming a very tired child.  Thankful we made that call, as she slept through the entire de-boarding, luggage retrieval, and ride home.)  

Three months later feels like three years later.  The transition has been fun, hard work, and a really sweet time for us.  

Thanks for stickin' with me as I tried to get all of my memories out into the blogosphere.  Adopting Rhet has been the most difficult/challenging and most rewarding/wonder-full experience I've (we've) gone through.  We're pretty much "back" to normal around here now--our new normal, that is, and I'm looking forward to getting back to the new normal on the ole' blog as well.  Expect some adoption/parent-centric posts along with my old familiar loves of food, running, Memphis, and pondering life.  :)

How do you end such a truly epic series that changed your life?  Like this.  Cya.  ;)

Rarely Early, Never Late

So the VISA.  I know, it's totally unfair of me to leave you with that cliff-hanger in a previous post and then wait this whole time before getting back to it.  But this is going to be a long one, so grab your hot cider in your favorite mug and settle in for the long-haul--this is my FAVORITE part of the story!

Let me review the timeline to catch you up:
Sunday, July 3rd: My mother and I leave Memphis/Atlanta, Ethiopia-bound.
Tuesday, July 5th: We arrive in Addis Ababa and take custody of Rhet.
Wednesday, July 6th: I learn of the expired fingerprints.
Thursday, July 7th: I get my fingerprints taken at the US Embassy in Addis, while Nick figures out what needs to happen back in the States.  We FedEx my completed fingerprints to Nick in Memphis.
Monday, July 11th: Nick receives my FedExed fingerprints and FedExes them directly to his contact at the USCIS office.
Thursday, July 14th: Although the fingerprints get a little "lost" within the USCIS offices, Nick's angel-in-disguise at the office tracks them down and says she'll do her best to get them processed in 24 hours.  (FYI: The first time around, we had our fingerprints done in October 2009 and didn't receive our clearance until April 2010!)
Friday, July 15th: En route to Ethiopia (while in Washington DC), Nick receives word that our USCIS clearance is renewed and is being sent to the National Visa Center in the US.
Sunday, July 17th: Nick arrives in Addis Ababa.

This brings us to Monday, July 18th.  The day after Nick joined us in Addis, we took a "quick" six hour trip south to visit Awassa, Rhet's birthplace.  I could tell you how much fun it is to travel for 6 hours in an old van with no seatbelts, swerving out of the way of cows and goats, with your toddler demanding to take full advantage of her mobility...but instead, I'll tell you that the view out of our windows of the Ethiopian countryside was gorgeous and unforgettable.  :)

The hotel where we stayed luxuriously had wifi in the lobby, and while the trip was short and busy, we took full advantage on Tuesday morning before we left to return to Addis.  I learned through an email from the US Embassy in Addis (on the blessed iPad) that 1) they had received our updated fingerprints/clearance, 2) they had made note of our presence in Addis, and 3) we were not yet cleared for a Visa appointment.

This solidified my email obsession, waiting for that glorious email from the Embassy that would notify us of our clearance for a visa appointment.

We swung by the Ethiopian Air desk in the Hilton hotel when we returned to Addis in late afternoon to change our flight reservations.  (We were originally scheduled to leave Ethiopia that Thursday, July 21st.)  Ethiopian Air told us that all flights were booked until mid-August due to their busiest season and they could not get us on another flight until then.  Feeling unsure of what to do, we let go of our seats on Thursday's flight and decided we would contact our travel agent.

When we returned to Addis Tuesday evening, I had an email waiting from the Embassy letting me know that something in Rhet's file was causing a delay and wasn't expected to be complete until August 28th.

This is a perfect example of a normal day for me in Ethiopia--great news (HOORAY!) followed by disheartening news (WHAT?!) followed by eh--let's wait and see what happens.  Emotional rollercoasting at its best.

Wednesday, July 20th, Nick got the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad altitude sickness.

Thursday, July 21st, (our original date of departure, which our travel agent was able to push back one week for us) our agency told me that the document the Embassy was waiting on was complete and that the party responsible for relaying this information would contact the Embassy again.

Meanwhile, I'd been emailing with our travel agent, and she confirmed that there were no economy seats left on flights in July, but that she could get us into business class on Thursday, July 28th for an EXTRA $3,000 per ticket.  *Gulp*  I was starting to feel like it would cost me my first-born to get home, which was ironic because she was the reason we were there in the first place!  We booked the tickets and we had until Tuesday, July 26th to confirm or change them.

We still needed to be cleared for a visa appointment, after which we were hoping that being present in Addis Ababa already would allow us to get an appointment within a day or so.  After the visa appointment, it takes two business days to process the paperwork before you can leave the country, so the very latest we could get a visa appointment and keep our 10p flight reservations for that next Thursday was Tuesday, July 26th--the same day we had to confirm our flight reservations.

This was a tough part of our wait in Ethiopia, because the news and expectations changed twice a day.  We can go home soon!  Oh, wait, just kidding--you can go home in FOUR EXTRA WEEKS.  Nick was only able to take two weeks vacation time total--he planned to spend the first week with us in Ethiopia and the second at home during Rhet's first week in Memphis.  If we couldn't get out of Ethiopia by that next Thursday, then Nick was going to have to go home without us and we would have to tough it out on our own again until we were able to come home (also without Nick's help).

Well, we just prayed.  Nick was sick and miserable.  Mom and I were in our third week away from home.  Rhet, bless her adorable heart, thought the guest house was our new home.  She acted like she owned the place, literally--objecting when other guests would dig into the food left out for meals or moving guests' feet off of the coffee table.  (Hilarious.)

We were just "over it."  And I felt a tremendous amount of guilt.  I had done this to all of us.  This is not a "normal" experience of going to an Embassy appointment.  I had insisted on going early to be with Rhet, oblivious to what that would require of me.  I had brought my mom with me, who was taking time off of work to be with us and was now just as stuck as I was as she refused to leave me alone in Ethiopia with Rhet (for which I was grateful!).  I had asked Nick to stay as long as he could and now he was laying up in bed, as miserable as I had been.  I had taken custody of this sweet little girl, who had been bonding with us for three weeks and I had NO other option than to stay with her and continue waiting--nothing could be reversed!  Chris Tomlin's new version of "I Need Thee Every Hour" just played on and on in my head and I prayed without ceasing that God would redeem my (for lack of a better word) "mess."

The verse that I clung to and prayed fervently and constantly was Psalm 128:4 (in the Message): "Stand in awe of God's 'Yes.' Oh how he blesses the one who fears God!"


Later that Thursday (7/21), after our agency had given us the encouraging news that the delay should be resolved soon, I received an email from the Embassy with the heading: "Faris Family, Cleared Case."  We jumped for joy in that little hallway in front of the ancient Dell laptop.

There was one snag: the appointment they were assigning to us was two weeks away--on August 3rd.  I immediately emailed them back and explained our situation, asking if there was any way they could get us in by 7/26.  On the end of business hours on Friday, 7/22, they emailed back and said that the very earliest they could get us in would be Monday, August 1st.

We resolved to pray, be persistent, and stay optimistic.  Psalm 128:4, Psalm 128:4, Psalm 128:4...

It was Friday. and the weekend was ahead of us.  Nick was still feeling ill, but he braved a trip uphill (sans Rhet and my mom) to Kaldi's with me, where I thoroughly enjoyed their carmel macchiato and (kind of) french fries.  (SO much better than that first trip!  Ha!)  After regretting the strenuous hike, Nick spent most of Saturday in bed.  On Sunday, we gave it another try and we went to the swanky Sheraton for my birthday brunch (again, just the two of us).  The food was delicious!  I had MILK in my coffee!  Chocolate croissants!  Smoked salmon!  FRUIT!  And the Sheraton toilets...OH the toilets...

(Someday I'll post my complex thoughts on our experience in the Sheraton versus the poverty we witnessed everywhere else. But for now, I'll say that I was so grateful for this extravagant treat.)

On Monday, 7/25, I checked my email every hour.  Nothing, nothing, nothing.  We got out of the guest house for lunch and bravely took Rhet down the hill (in the opposite direction from Kaldi's) to a restaurant for lunch just to do something with our jittery selves.  Three adults for one Rhet proved successful, and she kept us all busy enough to keep our minds off the uneventful morning.  Psalm 128:4, Psalm 128:4, Psalm 128:4....!  The day came and went with no news.

It seemed highly unlikely that the Embassy would give us an appointment on the day they contacted us. I awoke on Tuesday, July 26th, anxious and prayerful.  I felt like Charlie opening his chocolate bar and willing that golden ticket to slip out as I checked my email that morning...but...nothing.

My mother, on the other hand, received a very important email that morning.  It was from her employer, who was upset with her for being stuck in Ethiopia.  He was terminating her employment.  We sat there with dropped jaws in front of that old laptop with its sluggish internet, marveling at the impersonal nature of that email, the awful timing of its arrival, and I boiled inside with guilt over the whole thing.

The day droned on.  No news by breakfast.  Nothing by lunchtime.  Every second was an hour.  We were quiet and subdued as time ran out.

At 2p, with a sliver of business hours left, I began to accept that Nick was going to go home that week without us.  We would stay two more weeks.  I forced myself to look at the positives: We would be here for another fried fish and cake Monday (two more, actually!).  At least there WAS an end date now.  Now we had time to go visit the lion zoo.  I guess this meant my mom had some extra vacation time.  We would run out of diapers soon--a trip to the store to purchase Ethiopian Pampers would need to be lined up.  (We had already done this once.)  I wonder if we'd be able to get seats on a plane or if we would indeed have to wait until late August to leave.  And very quickly those thoughts became little stones weighing my heart down, down, down...I sent the email to our travel agent letting her know that Nick would keep his flight reservation for Thursday, and my mother and I would need to let ours go.  I checked the inbox one more time before pressing "send," but it was empty as ever.  I can't believe He didn't come through, I kept thinking.  My heart just deflated and sank as I realized there was no redemption for my mess.

Nick and I went upstairs to put Rhet down for her nap.  We read,  How big is Elmo?  Sooooo big! and Hello.  Howdy do, little Princess Honeydew!  We sang, "Jesus Loves Me, "and "I am a Sheep," and as we started in on the Nick-n-Jesse 2011 remix of "Go to Sleep Little Baby" and Rhet fought the whole notion of naptime, I started to cry.  I was completely helpless in all senses of the word.  Rhet wiggled and wailed and we rocked and cried.

Downstairs, the phone rang.  (Not uncommon.)

There was the sound of a muffled exchange.  (Not uncommon.)

"JESS!" my mom called.  I handed Rhet to Nick and rushed downstairs.  I went into the little kitchen off the side of the house where the housekeepers were preparing dinner.  I sat down on the little wooden chair in the corner and picked up the corded phone.  It was the social worker from our in-country offices.  The Embassy had called and said they could take us if we could be there NOW--they closed in an hour.

I ran into the hallway, looked at my mom, who was wide-eyed and hopeful, and I said, "Yes.  YES!  Get your stuff!"

I ran upstairs, where Nick was still trying to rock Rhet to sleep.  "Naptime is over," I announced.  "We have an embassy appointment RIGHT NOW!"  We crammed all necessary items into our backpacks, grabbed the Ergo and Rhet's shoes, and rushed downstairs.

The question of whether we'd even be able to get a driver on such late notice was solved immediately.  A driver was just returning from the Embassy to the guest house with some other guests.  When we asked if he could take us to the Embassy, he explained that the social worker had called him on his cell phone and he was on board with the plan.  Nick, my mom, Rhet, and I crammed into the backseat of his SUV, swung by the offices down the road to pick up the social worker, and we were on our way.

We stared out the windows on the 10-minute drive in shock and disbelief.  It started sinking in.  This literally happened in the 11th hour.  This was HAPPENING.  We were all going home TOGETHER in two days!

When we arrived, there was a short wait while they prepared for our meeting.  I showed Rhet the American flag waiving out the window--I am not an overly patriotic person, but I couldn't stop staring at it--it looked beautiful because it looked like home.  The "Today Show" was playing on the mounted TV in the corner.  (I have never been so excited to see Matt Lauer's blessed face!)  They called us up to the window, we answered questions and signed papers, and then we were told, "Congratulations!  You can pick up her Visa on Thursday morning."

Elation and weary relief was just seeping out of us as we walked back to the SUV.  My mom could not stop her steady stream of tears.  Nick and I just kept looking at each other and laughing.  And sweet, adorable Rhet...Little Girl was giddy over "tricking us" out of a naptime!  She just laughed and laughed.

Surprised face!

It was especially then that the old saying, "God is rarely early but never late," just kept echoing in my brain.  I was flooded with gratitude, humbled by this enormous and personal act of mercy.  He DID come through.  In the best way.  I was not on my own--I never was!  I truly stood in awe of God's "Yes."

Oh, and I emailed our travel agent back that evening with the subject heading: "DISREGARD FIRST EMAIL."  Luckily with the time change, she hadn't even begun work that day and we were able to keep our reservations.  In an extra turn of good "fortune," a second flight had been added, so we did NOT have to pay the extra $3,000/person after all!  Well how about that?

The next day (Wednesday), I went back to the Sheraton and this time I took my mom.  We treated ourselves to that amazing brunch and celebrated and processed all that God had done.  I can never express how grateful I am for the huge step of faith, the enormous sacrifice (financially, emotionally, physically), the pouring out of herself for me that my mother exhibited.  She is my very closest friend and what amazing acts of friendship she gave to me in that month!  I hope I can be the same kind of mother to my own daughter.

Thursday afternoon, Nick walked down the street through a downpour to the agency offices to pick up our oh-so-precious documents.  We packed and packed and packed.  We tried to prepare for that never-ending flight with our busy little toddler.  We tied up lose ends.  And at last, the driver arrived with a quick honk of his horn.  We loaded up our many bags and began our last drive in Addis Ababa.

The UnBirthday

I can't wait to start sharing my daily thoughts and experiences once the overseas mini-series is complete!  But alas, there is so much I want to remember about our time in Ethiopia before I move on.  So please indulge me with these posts while I play catch-up!

Somewhere within my Ethiopian adventures, I celebrated my 31st birthday.  My mom really wanted it to be special, but Nick was due to arrive the next day and I was just too antsy to have him there with us to think about anything else.

The day of my birthday, my gift was sleeping in.  It was glorious.  Thank you, Mom!  I dismissed the invitation to go get a pedicure.  I put off the suggestion of a yummy brunch at the Sheraton.  I just wished the minutes away and, wouldn't you know, a watched clock never turns.

Because of the connections and the time changes, it takes two days to get from Memphis to Ethiopia.  (We flew Memphis --> Chicago --> DC --> Addis Ababa.)  Nick left on Friday, the day before my birthday, and he arrived on Sunday, the day after my birthday.  My birthday just disappeared into thin air...It was a weird feeling.  (I'm a big birthday celebrator, if you're not already picking up on that--ha!)

The day he was to arrive, I went with our driver (who had become kind of a buddy by then!) to the airport to pick him up.  Nick's flight was delayed (about 3 hours!) so Abraham (pronounced AH-brah-hahm) and I chatted about anything we could think of.  He laughed when I mentioned celebrating my birthday--he told me most Ethiopians don't know when they were born (and they think the idea of celebrating birthdays is funny).  "How do you know how old you are, then?" I asked incredulously.  He said, "We just guess."  I asked him how old he was and he said his mother says he is 27 and his father says he's 28, so he picks 28.

Poor Nicholas, in the meantime, was on that loooong flight overseas and their flight was delayed due to someone becoming ill.  The plane had to detour and land in Rome before they could make their way to Ethiopia.  Hence the extra 3 hours.  (When your flight is already 15 hours long, an extra 3 hours is torture!)  Of course, we didn't know all of this until later--all we had to go on was the listing of "delayed" on the television screen at the airport.

Finally finally FINALLY we saw people leaving baggage claim from the DC arrival.  I was SO excited to see Nick--I scanned each face quickly in anticipation, and finally the face of my best friend and true love walked around the corner and lit up in weary relief and joy when he recognized us.  It was so weird to have said goodbye two weeks before and feel that we were reuniting a lifetime later with new responsibilities and life roles.

It sounds so wimpy that we were without Nick for only two weeks--I know I melodramatically make it sound like years.  But it kind of felt like years.  You just don't know until you know.

We spent the drive "home" just smiling each other and trying to catch up.  ("Hey, we're parents now!")  When we arrived at the guest house, Rhet was quiet and shy for about 5 minutes before remembering that this was the "Baba" she's been talking about for so long.  (Baba means "father" in Amharic, and she had been repeating it over and over since we had been with her.)  Then she proceeded to adore him exponentially.

Nick got sick with altitude sickness a couple days after arriving in ET.  Same symptoms, same length of time.  I selfishly felt so justified for being "normal" instead of the freakishly wimpy sickly frail person I worried I was.  Even with Nick being sick, it was STILL better having him in Ethiopia with us.

Our first family pic :)

And I know you are just feeling so sorry for me about the UnBirthday, so I will ease your concerns by letting you know that we did go to brunch at the ritzy glamorous Sheraton in Addis and treated ourselves as soon as Nick started feeling better.  Phew.  I know you are so relieved.  ;) 

A Month in the (Ethiopian) Life

By the end of that miraculous Saturday, I was feeling back to normal, albeit a little frail.

I was so thrilled to wake up on Sunday morning feeling well that I suggested a celebratory outing.

My original vision of my time in Ethiopia with Rhet was an open-ended amount of time in which she and I explored the city and frequented our favorite coffee shops & markets, making friends along the way.

My reality turned out like our celebratory outing:

We decided to go up to Kaldi's, which was a coffee shop that mimicked Starbucks right down to the circular green logo. We were staying at a guest house owned by our agency liaison, and while it was possible to hire drivers when going out, it required planning ahead and paying by the hour. In addition, our agency only approved a handful of locations for families to take their Ethiopian children before the adoption was completed, and all of those locations were within walking distance of our guest home.

Kaldi's was described as a 10-15 minute walk from the guest home. I donned the Ergo carrier for the first time and Rhet was amused to ride in it. We stepped out into the sunshine and ventured beyond the gate.

There was a rocky dirt road that led out to a street. (Waive to the children playing and asking for "sweeties" and watch out for the heard of goats!) After turning onto the street, we passed a mosque from which we heard the daily prayers chanted over their loudspeaker. Lots of people walked on this street and cars passed by, honking at any person or animal (cows, goats) in their way. Our agency's offices were toward the end of this street behind a bright blue metal gate. At the end of the street, we turned right onto the sidewalk of a major road. Addis Ababa is quite dusty and smoggy--this road was noticeably different in air quality. We started the hike uphill on the sidewalk, passing little shops and people selling things on blankets or begging on the street. Up, up, up we went. Finally we saw the multi-level shopping center with Kaldi's in the distance. We crossed an empty concrete lot and then an interstate-like ramp. We walked down to the end of the parking lot and [whew!] we were there.

The morning sun had been beating down on us. The uphill hike in the altitude was brutal. With a 25 lb child hanging on the front of me. We were huffing and puffing and sweating when we walked into the coffee shop.

(10 minute walk?! Ummm...I don't think so.)

We found a table upstairs, fell into a booth, ordered a latte and some pineapple juice, and shed our layers. Ahhhh.

Reality check: Little Girl was hot and tired of being in the Ergo. Her idea of a good time had less to do with leisurely chatting and more to do with running, climbing, and squealing. (Duh, Jesse. She's a toddler. How many toddlers I have I seen sitting around Starbucks reading the latest bestseller? That's right...NONE.)

While this big scene was bound to happen at some point, I did not wish for it to be in front of a crowd of quiet Ethiopians. I got flustered, realized I forgot to bring snacks or toys, felt like a dummy, and then freaked. I stuck Rhet right back in the Ergo, told Mom to get everything to go and take care of the bill, and I rushed out of there.

I was so embarrassed and tired and frustrated and dreading the walk back and feeling like a big dummy. I took it out on my mom as we headed back in the now seemingly scorching sunshine. Then I felt guilty and I apologized. We both cried most of the way home. Scarred. For. Life.

I thought I knew what the whole thing (parenting, superlong trip to third world country, being away from husband, todderhood) was going to be like...but I had no idea. I really didn't have a clue.

Being a mother required my constant vigilance and energy all the time. ALL THE TIME. Do not mistake this as a complaint--it's more of a revelation. I was shocked that the whole thing blindsided me like it did.

After the Kaldi's misadventure, until Nick arrived later in the month, I did not even dream of thinking of having the notion of doing any "fancy" outings.

-----

Instead, this is what life looked like in my Mommy Bootcamp:

Wake to the morning prayers being chanted from the mosque around 5am. Drift in and out of sleep until 6am, when Rhet wakes up in her pack-n-play at the foot of my bed.

Drowsily distract her in the bedroom for as long as possible until she inevitably voices her strong opinion to go downstairs and eat breakfast. (She likes to cut to the chase.)

7am breakfast #1 of rice cereal & bananas.
8am breakfast #2 made by the housekeepers.
(The girl is serious about her food!)

Play in common room with the guest house toys.
She started falling asleep on the floor from 9-10am.

Around 10am, go get dressed--her in a supercute outfit and me in waaay stretched out jeans and long sleeved tshirts.

(My belly doesn't show in this boyfriend cardigan, does it?)

10:30am - Head down to the agency offices to get the latest update.
Come back and play in the courtyard.

12p - Lunch made by the housekeepers or pulled out of our stash of Easy Mac, Ritz Bits, Goldfish, and Luna Bars.

Naptime lasts for about an hour while I straighten up our room and read "Hellhound on His Trail" on the iPad.

Afternoon playing in the courtyard and common room.

Dinner at 6p usually prepared by the housekeepers, if we signed up for it in the morning. Otherwise, we ate from our stash.

Post-dinner bath in the tub that we shared with most of the other guests in the house. (Ew. But Rhet didn't care--she loved bathtime. And as seen in this picture, she sorely needed it!)

Baby Mozart on VHS in the common room. Whoever left that behind: Thank you. Really. (Before traveling on our second trip, I had resolved that Rhet wouldn't watch TV until she was 2. That rule was quickly broken by this heavenly 22 minute video that glued Rhet to one place for brief spurts of time. Magic!)

Bedtime around 7:30pm. Afterwards, my mom & I watched Parks & Recreation on the iPad for an hour and then succumbed to sleep.

-----

Power was hit or miss, as was running water, due to rationing. Ethiopia's weather was between 50-70 that month and no heat or air conditioning was needed (or available). The power outages meant that no lights would turn on & no showers would be warm, but that wasn't a big deal during the day, and the guest house ran a generator from dark until 10pm which allowed us to use the most important items requiring electricity. Water outages only affected washing hands or showers, because we used bottled water for everything else.

Using the Internet was addictive torture. You had to wait for a connection which could take 5 minutes or an hour on an old Dell laptop. (Identical to the one I bought for grad school in 2002--ha!) Then it was only a matter of time until being cut off. Web pages took awhile to load. It was hard to be away from Nick without an easy way to communicate with him. There was no way uploading and sending pictures was an option with this connection. I used an old Nokia cellphone (again, like my phone from 2002) to talk to Nick. He had to call me because I had to get the guard at the gate to load minutes on it, about 10 minutes at a time. When we returned to the States and got our phone bill, the total was more than $600! Ka-ching!

The rainy season was such a mystery to me before arriving. From the States the previous year, I had learned that the Ethiopian courts close every year during the heaviest part of the rainy season. While July was just the beginning of the season (courts close in September), I imagined mud and muck everywhere, walking in downpours, leaky ceilings, rain boots & coats...

The reality was that the weather was heavenly! 60's and low 70's during the day, sunny and pleasant. It rained about once a day, usually during the afternoon, in a rainforest/beach-like downpour for an hour or two. Thunder rumbled and rolled like a lullaby. And my dog with storm phobia was thousands of miles away in a sweltering, dry Memphis.

-----

The fingerprints I had taken at the US Embassy in Ethiopia were FedExed to Nick. Meanwhile, Nick rushed to the USCIS office in Memphis and got a walk-in appointment to have his fingerprints taken. He had made a contact at the USCIS headquarters who was an angel in disguise. She promised to expedite the process to update our fingerprints. Nick then FedExed our fingerprints directly to her. She got the results in 1 business day and sent them onto the US Visa Center along with a request to continue expediting the processing. The US Visa Center then sent approval ASAP to the US Embassy in Ethiopia. And the rest will come in the next post...

The Pit of Despair

Wednesday through Saturday of our first week in Ethiopia (aka: my first through fourth days with Rhet) go down in my memories as "The Pit of Despair."

According to Wikipedia, Addis Ababa (the capital city of Ethiopia) is roughly 7,500 feet above sea level.  Memphis, in contrast, is roughly 400 feet above sea level.  During our first trip to Ethiopia in May, the altitude did not have much of an effect on Nick or me beyond shortness of breath when climbing stairs.

I kind of have this secret obsession with Mount Everest.  If I had unlimited funds and unlimited physical capacity, climbing Everest is the one thing I would do.  I love to read books, watch movies/documentaries, and drool over the Discovery Channel reality series on climbing Everest.  If you are at all familiar with mountain climbing (particularly the tallest in the world), you've heard of the Death Zone.  This is when you reach an elevation in which the human body is not capable of living for very long.  People have a very limited amount of time they can spend in the Death Zone before...well, you get the picture.

Addis Ababa is nowhere near the Death Zone (it falls about 20,000 feet short of the classification), but on Wednesday, it began to feel like it to me.

Wisegeek.com has this to say about how high altitude affects the human body:

For the average individual, awareness of symptoms and acclimatization to high altitude should be considered over 6,500 ft...If the body is responding properly to the elevation, normal symptoms such as decreased appetite, increased bladder activity, insomnia, slight swelling of hands, feet or knees, temporary breathlessness after exercising will occur. However, the effects on the human body in high altitudes that have not had time to acclimate can range from uncomfortable to life threatening...The most common condition is altitude sickness or “acute mountain sickness." Typical symptoms are...dizziness, headache, nausea, prolonged shortness of breath, prolonged fatigue, vomiting and exhaustion. In extreme cases, the subject may experience agitation, anxiety or mental confusion, lack of coordination or imbalance.

This is the part of my recounting where previous themes return:
1) I am a wimp.
2) The Secret Weapon (my mother) was indispensable during The Pit of Despair.

So it went like this: the agency rep came and dropped the expired fingerprints bomb, all the while my stomach is beginning to churn and sour.  She left and I started feeling dizzy and faint.  Get a grip, I was telling myself,  This will all work out.  I laid down for a little while.

And then I just couldn't get up.  I wasn't hungry, I wasn't thirsty, I had no energy, and any movement sent my head reeling and my stomach churning.  I seriously thought I had the flu.

In the meantime, um, I was a mom.  And I was in the Death Zone.  Okay, not really, but I was inwardly freaking out: How am I going to do this?  There is no way I can take care of my baby girl!  This is going to ruin our attachment plan!  Nick will kill me!  (And for all you "Arrested Development" fans:) I've made a HUGE mistake...


So we did what we could.  My mom became Super-Nana, taking care of Rhet for most of the day.  She brought her up to my bed occasionally, and Little Girl and I would lay and cuddle and giggle and try to make the best of things.  I could not eat--I felt nauseated and had no apetite.  I made myself drink 5 sips of water anytime I would wake up.  At best, I sipped on hot broth from some instant noodle soup we had brought with us.  Every other moment, I was sleeping, sleeping, sleeping.  I could not get enough sleep.  And between drowsy dreams, I could vaguely hear my toddler downstairs expressing opinions and crying for Mama.

And the worst part for me: as mentioned before, anytime I am really sick I usually end up crying and wishing for MY mommy.  I knew I was in the deepest Pit of Despair possible when I realized that I DID have my mom, and it didn't really matter...!  I was sad and sick and overwhelmed and missing my husband, and my mom just couldn't fix that.  That realization REALLY had me despairing...

I hadn't had any communication with Nick yet since leaving DC on Monday.  Finally at the end of the week, we figured out how to talk on a guest house cell phone.  I burst into tears.  "It's so hard!  I shouldn't be here!  I'm sorry I messed everything up!"  Of course he was sweet and supportive and encouraging and empathetic.  Which made everything worse.  I wanted him to drop everything and fly to Addis to be with us...to be with ME.  I was waving the white flag!  I was a wimp who was homesick for her husband!  Surrender!  Surrender!  But alas, the USCIS fingerprints were still expired and the problem still needed to be remedied.  He was doing everything he could.

During this time period, I did get out for the purpose of doing my fingerprints at the Embassy.  I faintly went through the motions, Rhet quietly in the Ergo hanging on the front of me, finishing this all-too-important task.  Afterward, we stopped by the agency's orphanage to visit the doctor so we could see if Rhet's ear-tugging was something or nothing.  Ear infection.  Poor girl.  Here I was moaning and groaning upstairs, and she had not even peeped about her monster of an ear infection.

Later that week, the same orphanage doctor actually came to the guest house to see if there was something more serious going on.  I just wasn't feeling better and the longer it went on, the more I despaired.  Altitude sickness, he declared.  Plain and simple.  Really?  Was he sure?  Yes, he had seen it this bad many times before.  He prescribed some anti-nausea pills.

This entire time, we were alone at our guest house--we had the whole place to ourselves.  It was a wonderful luxury--no one in the bathroom when we needed it, our run of the kitchen and all of the leftovers to ourselves.  Quiet when we needed it quiet, and no one was bothered by our noise.  On Friday, another family came in.

I had ventured downstairs that afternoon, and they introduced themselves.  I felt lame, all sleepy-eyed and hair matted down in my pajamas.  Shortly thereafter, I went up to our room and laid in bed.

Help, I prayed.
I really need help.
It had been my constant prayer through the week.  And nothing was happening.
I was desperate.

The next day in the late morning, I laid in bed praying the same prayer.
I can not do this without you, Lord.  I need you to make me well.
I can not ever imagine feeling better.  I can not ever imagine not feeling overwhelmed.
I need your help. 


I snuggled into my pillow, intending to sleep away all my despair and misery.
Instead, I felt restless.  I could not sleep.
And about ten minutes later, all of a sudden, I thought to myself: I need to get up.


I took a shower, went downstairs and outdoors where my mom and daughter were playing.
I sat in a chair, felt the warm sun and the cool afternoon air, and I took a deep breath.

I knew the Lord was helping me.

The Secret Weapon

I had a secret weapon with me on this Ethiopian adventure: my mother.  She accompanied me for the entire duration of our trip, and I could not have made the journey without her.

This was the biggest shock of my trip: I was weaker and wimpier than I thought.

Originally I had planned to make this trip alone.  It would be a wonderful time to soak up the Ethiopian culture and make unique memories with my brand new daughter.  And while it was just that, it was also much more challenging than I originally so naively and idealistically thought.  

To suddenly become the mommy of a busy, opinionated, always-moving, not-verbal-yet toddler is a culture shock in itself.  To do it in a third world country, with unreliable power and water, different food, living out of a suitcase, about 7-9,000 feet above comfy sea level...is an altogether larger challenge.

Those moments that try us most often cause us to wail out: "I want my mommy!"  Well, I had her.  :)

The day we took custody of Rhet (Tuesday, July 5th) was "the perfect day."  We brought her home, fed her lunch, and I rocked her in my arms in the hallway before putting her down for an afternoon nap.  Afterwards, we ate dinner, read some books, and I put her to bed in the same way.

You will notice that most of the pictures from this point fwd (until Nick arrives) will include a very blurry Little Lady

She looked adorable in her footie pajamas.  I laid on my bed, listening to the sounds of a breathing baby coming from the Pack-n-Play in the corner, and I marveled at the fact that I was the mother of this child.

With the exception of waking 3 or 4 times in the night and needing to be reassured that she was in the right place, everything was E-A-S-Y that first 24 hours.  What a sweet, quiet, shy, observant gentle lady my new little kiddo was!

A quiet, crusty morning-face

The next afternoon, three things happened:

1. I learned that the child Nick and I had visited in the month of May (as well as the child I had brought home with me to the guest house) was not the actual person inside of that little girl.  With a sudden turn during/after lunchtime, Rhet morphed into this adorable, wide-eyed, opinionated, wild-child with a BIG personality.

The non-stop baby babble took the place of shy side-glances.  She clearly understood what we were saying to her, and she felt that her string of babble meant something to us, too.  These conversations were usually accompanied by wild hand movements, the moving up and down of her expressive eyebrows, and lots of laughing.  She found her own stories hilarious.  (As did we.)

A multi-shoulder-shrug presented itself following questions or statements with which she disagreed or toward which she felt apathy.  Example: "Do you want to change your diaper?" {Shrug, shrug, shrug}  "Why don't you try this bite of injera?"  {Shrug, shrug, shrug}  "Please don't push the TV button--that's for grown-ups."  {LAUGH, shrug, shrug, shrug}

The famous "uh! uh! uh!" toddler-pointing also introduced itself.  These requests led to some sort of food about 98% of the time.  The other 2% of the time, the request was to leave the bedroom in search of food.

"Uh! Uh! Uh!"  {Translation: I dropped my snack cup!}

2. The second thing that happened: our agency rep came by and gave me an update.  Gail sat down in the guest house living room with me and told me she had heard from the US Embassy.  And there was an unfortunate surprise: our USCIS fingerprints had expired.

We did these fingerprints by appointment in the fall of 2009.  I had asked our agency twice in the last six months whether I needed to update them.  Each time, whomever was helping me told me it was not time to worry about them yet.

Unfortunately, now was the time to worry.  But I happened to be thousands of miles from home.  Oops.

This might delay things significantly, our agency rep warned.  She would try to see if I could get my fingerprints done "the old-fashioned way" (with ink instead of scanning) at the US Embassy.  Nick would need to get his done back home in the US, wait for my copies to be FedExed to him, and then send everything ASAP to USCIS and then on to the National Visa Center before the US Embassy in Ethiopia would clear us.

A sickening feeling coated the inside of my stomach as we spoke.  This was Not. Good.  This was a Big. Mess.  I had failed in making adequate preparations, and now it felt like we were in over our heads.

3. After our agency rep left the guest house, I was disappointed to discover that the sickening feeling inside was only increasing.  In addition to dread, disappointment, shame, and helplessness, the churning inside was being caused by something else that was about to ruin my life for the next 4 days...

The Day After Independence

5 weeks before, she had walked into the visitors' room of the orphanage, bursting into tears as she saw the large amount of strangers in front of her. She calmed down as we sat on the floor with her. She let me feed her lunch. She fell asleep in my arms.

5 weeks later, I spent Independence Day on a flight from Washington DC to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia...on my way to be(come?) her mother.

Had I become a mother when I completed the mountain of paperwork for an unknown child in the fall of 2009?  Had I become a mother when we were added the the waiting list and I prayed for that unknown child daily through 2010?

Had I become her mother in mid-January 2011 when I accepted the referral of that beautiful 9-month-old little girl in the picture?

Had I become her mother when I met her in the visitors' room that day in late May...or later that week when it became "legal" as our case passed court and the judge said, "She is yours."

She was ours. I considered myself her mother.  I celebrated it on that certain Sunday in May.  But thousands of miles separated us. It wasn't me who saw her little sleepy eyes first thing in the morning. I didn't know how she spent her days. No one rocked her to sleep. She was mine...I was her mother...and yet, in some ways, she was not and I was not...

Independence Day was spent in the air with the following must-haves for a 14-hour transatlantic flight:

• Athletic compression socks (I loved mine from Swiftwick)
• Camelback water bottle (to fill up more than a tiny plastic cup with water when the flight attendant passed by)
• iPad with "Hellhound on His Trail" (Hampton Sides) and "Bossypants" (Tina Fey) loaded and ready to read
• Ambien for the impossible feat of sleeping on a plane

We arrived in Addis the morning after Independence Day.  A few short hours later, I was signing papers at the orphanage, holding my daughter in my arms as I walked out the front gate, getting into a taxi and driving away...

She was quiet, curious, and observant.  I tried not to overwhelm.  I spoke softly and smiled encouragingly and inwardly freaked out with joy and sheer not-knowing-what-I-was-doing-ness.  I held the little girl craning her neck to watch out the dashboard, took a deep breath, and (if it hadn't happened already) in that moment, I definitely became a mother.

And Just Like That...

I apologize for keeping you in suspense.

Life is like that. It just takes over without even asking. One minute, you have grand plans for the Greatest Blog Post Ever. The next minute, you're on a 14-hour flight to go meet your daughter.

This would be her.

(The daughter.)

And just like that, you're looking into this beautiful little face.

You're introducing yourself as "Mommy."

(Weirdest introduction ever.)

You're letting her chew on your watch, you're feeding her lunch, you're holding her as she falls asleep in your arms.

Just like that.

We had a whirlwind, overwhelming, fantastic, life-changing trip to Ethiopia at the end of May. We spent 2 hours every morning with Rhet, visited museums and markets in the afternoons, and attended our court date on May 27th, when a judge looked us in the eyes and said, "She is yours."

Lucky us! (We are now the legal parents of a very precious little girl.)

Lucky you! (This now begins a lifetime of posted pictures.)

I can't wait to tell you all about my trip.

But as huge life events tend to do, I am quite overwhelmed with the hugeness of what has occurred and what is to come.

I'm traveling back to Ethiopia early, to spend time bonding with Rhet & soaking up some Ethiopian culture before our embassy appointment. Nick will join us for the appointment, which will result in issuing Rhet a visa to be a US citizen, and then we will all head back to Memphis together. The journey to bring Rhet home starts July 3rd, and we're hoping to come back as a family of three by the end of the month.

Until then, I'm taking deep breaths, enjoying my last days in my child-free marriage, and nesting like a mad-woman.

And eventually, I'm telling you about the trip that changed my life.

Until then, check out this little piece of joy: