Friday 20 March 2009

Three Thoughts

Thought the first:

It's amazing how this baby, a person that we haven't even met, has already opened our lives up in ways we never would have expected. Last week a group of UK adopters all met up and had an Ethiopian cooking lesson, which was brilliant. It was shoddily organised by moi, (and I found out that wow, I am unbelieveably bad at organising events - useful lesson) which means that I got to know the lady who did the demonstration- she runs an Ethiopian cafe near where we live, and due to my uselessness at organising, we had to have quite a few confabs. Anyway, I saw her again yesterday and it struck me just how much I like her and that we never, ever would have met her if it hadn't been for HFB. And I certainly would never have learned to cook zelzel tibs. Later yesterday evening, we went around to another Ethiopian friend's for dinner. We met him when we went to Ethiopian church (which I blogged about a while back). He is a truly radiant person - it's such a pleasure to know him, and again, it never would have happened if it weren't for our unknown, unmet HFB.
Thanks, kiddo.

Thought the second:

I've known for a while that the most effective fertility treatment in the universe is either to be my friend, or to be related to me. I thought I would feel okay about this by now (you're expecting, I'm expecting, lets swap stories about prams) but each new announcement reminds me just how long we've been waiting, and how long we will continue to wait, and that nobody is going to keep these babies in an orphanage for two extra months while their parents wait for the courts to open again after the rainy season. I know, I know, it's not all about me, and yes, I am a sucky friend / relation and I should be cast into the depths of the ocean. Please believe that I already know this.

And yet. Rather than thinking 'oh, how lovely, more babies for my baby to play with!' I think: 'July? You mean THIS July? That is so monumentally unfair!'

Actually I think that on one occasion, I may have actually said this. See, depths of the ocean.

But I'm realising that a time is approaching when a twelve week announcement won't have that effect on me. Barring unforeseen changes (did I really even need to spell that out?), someone will stroke their belly and say 'November!' and I'll smile beatifically and say 'oh, how lovely. Our babies can grow up together'. That moment can't come too soon.

Thought the third:

J tells me that I can't get upset if people aren't understanding of what we're going through if I don't actually tell them. So, I've been trying to be more communicative with people about what this wait is really like. But these emotions are difficult to convey. I mention the uncertainty and the waiting and the most common response is : 'Oh, that's just like being pregnant!' Ummmm, no, it's really really not. I know that being pregnant is difficult. (Anybody else tempted to write a book called 'What to expect to hear when friends are expecting?') But those difficulties are not these difficulties. This baby is separated from me not by layers of skin and flesh and 40 weeks of waiting, but by oceans and continents and what feels on some days like the entire space-time continuum. I love and long for this child as much as if he or she was inside me, but I can do nothing concrete to keep this child safe. I can't eat or not-eat, do or not-do. I cannot monitor anything. And I know none of those things are guarantees, but I can't even do what I can, because I can't do anything. I don't think I ever really knew what trust was until I realised this. All I can do is pray: Lord, please look after my baby.


  1. steI think he is caring for your baby, and also just so cool that you organized a meet up to cook Ethio food. I love this enrichment, I've often thought about how our lives have changed in tangential ways after beginning this process...


  2. Once again, I sooo hear your heart and I have felt/thought so many of the same things. Sometimes even now I have had to have a good cry when I think about that I don't know what happened when D. was in the womb or born or I know very little about his first 5 months. It is hard...because our hearts are designed to love, care for and take care of these sweet ones right from the beginning. You totally nailed it...all we can do is pray and trust!!!! I still am praying asking God to help me to know what D. specifically needs and I am still having to trust so much in relying on His wisdom to know how to be the momma he needs. The one good thing out of the wait (because there are so many things are just plain hard!) is that it grows the trust "muscle" so much! I am praying for you today as the wait keeps on without an end in sight yet. One day the end will be in sight...oh I look forward with you to that day!

  3. Loved this post, C. The way you share your heart here is so bittersweet......trying and wanting so hard to relate to your friends/family and sharing why it is different and difficult and something that just can't really be compared. I hope you can share it with your friends/family the way you shared it here as you said it all so beautifully. Hugs.

  4. If you were ever cast into the ocean, I would dive in after you to pull you out. No matter what shoes I was wearing.

  5. Yes, yes, and yes! Oh Claudia, girl, I know of what you speak. If I hear one more pregnancy analogy, however loving and well-intentioned, my already twitching left eye may finally burst.

  6. Finding one another through the blogosphere is wonderful! Glad you found me and vice versa. Link away! :)


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