There is no relief.

Too many tears today.
Bad news from our agency.
Nothing is happening.
We are powerless.
All we can do is wait.
And look at the two high chairs.
And close the door to the nursery.
And go to sleep, and wake up, and go to work.
And wait.
Day turns into night and night turns into day and nothing seems to change.
The powers that be do not care about my heartache, not at all.
We came home from work and climbed into bed.
We both crave sleep or a coma.
Escapism for sure.
We don't drink.
Maybe we should?
Exercise helps?
Nothing helps.
Work continues.
We're both so busy and under so much stress.
We're both about to crack.
My Dad barely recognizes me anymore.
My heart hurts.
My head hurts.
I cuddle my tiny dog closer and closer, nearly smothering her.
She is small.
My babies are no longer small.
They are not here.
They are not here.
They are not here.
I am here.
But they are not.
Another evening spent, wishing and hoping and praying.
We are lonely in the worst possible way.
Our hearts are broken right now.
I know it's part of the process, this interminable waiting.
But right now I hate certain government offices.
This is not the difference between a child who is three years old and one month vs. three years old and three months.
This is the difference between a five month old and a seven month old
Changes happen. I will not witness them.
I am seriously contemplating flying to Ethiopia and camping out at the foster home until the Embassy finishes.
What if they won't finish?
What if they can't finish?
It's happened before.
I'm being dramatic.
Am I?
Right now, it feels like there is no relief.

The names, and other updates

I am dying over here.

Dying.

I never imagined how hard this would be--could be. Every day without them is agony. It has now been two months since we first boarded that flight to Ethiopia, our stomachs fluttering with butterflies, our hearts about to be opened in a way we didn't even know was possible.

Two months.

Two months of going to sleep praying that someone is picking them up when they cry, that someone is feeding them when they are hungry, that someone is cuddling them close, and singing them songs, and nuzzling their sweet baby necks, and patting their soft baby backs.

Two months.

Our case has hit another snag at the Embassy earlier this week. We spent Monday night near tears as we ran through worst case scenarios, ones we cannot even really allow our hearts and minds to consider. Yet again we're at the mercy of other people, there are circumstances we can do nothing about.

I never thought that at two months post-first visit we'd still be sitting here, waiting, watching the calendar as the days tick by, not slowly, but at rapid-fire pace, another week gone, anther week passed in a flash without them here. Another week (in theory) that brings them closer to us but at the same time another precious week of their lives that we are missing, that can never, ever be recovered.

If you pray, please direct your prayers to the U.S. Embassy, that they work swifty and only in the best interest of our babies, and that we do not disintegrate into madness while we wait for news to travel.

In the meantime, you can add their real names to your pleas to the universe on our behalf, stitched so lovingly onto two beautiful Curious George quilts handmade by a wonderful fellow IF friend and IRL friend from my childhood. First names given by us, second names their beautiful Ethiopian names that will forever be a part of them.

I hope you can read them. I was playing with a camera app to blur out the edges (so I certainly wasn't trying to blur out the details of their quilts, just trying to put the focus on their names).

Two months.

PS Please don't type their names into the comments section--I don't want their names to be searchable, that's why they're presented in a photo format (idea stolen from Claudia!).



At last...


I am finally posting. I wish I were so delinquent for a good reason, like, say, traveling 7,000 miles across the globe to bring my babies home but not so. We're still waiting.

Thank you to those who checked up on me. I'm sorry I've been absent. It's been a strange time to be blogging.

OK. Where have I been and what have I been doing?

The shower.

It was amazing. It was surreal. It was emotional. The love and support I felt in that room was intense and there is not much more I can say about it other than that. Thank you to those who were there, physically and in spirit. I never thought I'd have one, and now I have. I have to look at the pictures myself to see the proof.

(Sister, Mom, and then there's me--the shower was at my house. Check out all the desserts!)

The living room right before everyone got there. You can't see all of them but there were fresh flowers (tulips and gerberas, my favorites!) everywhere. I loved them and wish I was wealthy enough to have fresh flowers all the time!

My sister gave me lots of Curious George stuff, including this adorable onesie for the little man. But when she said she'd been holding on to some of it for six years, well, it brought on some ugly crying on my part (no pics will be shared of that, sorry to disappoint. Just imagine my face, all red and scrunched up and contorted and there you go.)

The nursery:



The nursery.is.finished. We here at the MTL house like a modern aesthetic, but we also wanted to incorporate Curious George. So there you go. It's tough to go in there but I do. I love it as a room, but it hurts right now. Every single day they are growing and changing and I'm not witnessing it. I get my weekly photo update if I'm lucky, and they (of course) continue to be beautiful and gorgeous and perfect and they are growing growing growing. But the truth is, they won't be little babies when we bring them home. I guess I just have to be content with the five days of holding little babies that I had nearly two months ago.

My favorites are the tree on the wall, the modern little rockers, the zig-zag shelf (bought four year ago, sheesh!) and the red polka dotted rugs, which didn't really show up in the pictures.

Mother's Day.

You know how there's that old saying you can't  be a 'little bit pregnant?' Well, it turns out you can be a "little bit of a Mother on Mother's Day." I mean, people kept whooping it up and giving me big Happy Mother's Day wishes which was super nice--don't get me wrong--but without them here it just felt empty. I realize I am closer than I have ever been and believe me when I say I am grateful beyond words to have the privilege of adopting my babies, but it wasn't like I got any sloppy sugars or cuddles with anyone other than my furbabies.  I wasn't in a dark state of despair like previous years, and that is something, but it wasn't exactly the most joyous of days.

I don't want to sound like a broken record but it's just tough right now. We're so close--so close--but yet still, literally so far away. They are legally ours but yet we have to go through a third party to get anything done--to get an updated height/weight takes an Act of Congress sometimes. To arrange for an extra doctor's visit took over three weeks. Three weeks! If they were here, if we were a family together here, I could have had it done lickety split. It's wearing on us both. We're trying to enjoy the last 'free weekends' and so we've been doing lots of running and enjoying the outdoors, and seeing friends and family, and zipping here and there but we're tired. We've been running this ultra-marathon for years and it's time to retire those shoes. I've got blisters on top of blisters on top of calluses. But my heart has gotten one million times stronger and bigger, it's just waiting to share itself with the babies.

Up next, their names. I promise I won't take so long this time.