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.