Brothers

If a picture really is worth a thousand words, then I will let these photos speak for themselves. Or will I? Pictures can be deceiving.....and in this case, only tell part of the story.








Despite getting closer and closer every day, our little family still has a ways to go. Because the intent of these ramblings is to record our time and experiences in Addis, I believe it is necessary to write as close to the truth as possible. So, the truth..... Luke and I have had our lives turned upside down. Transitioning an orphaned two year old into our lives while living in a foreign country has not been easy. Physically, Levi is doing great. In ten days, the scabies, worms and fungus have vanished. Peanut butter and eggs can now be added to the short list of foods he will eat. He sleeps through the night. He now loves taking a bath and often cries when he gets out instead of going in.

The emotional and social growth are coming, but slower. Thankfully, Levi has clearly "attached" to me and refuses to allow anyone else to pick him up. That said, my odds are still only about 50% when I reach out for a hug or a carry. He is a stubborn little man and still prefers Luke to me, following him pretty much everywhere. This is fine with me as adding him to our family has always been more about Luke having a brother than me having another child. I continue to draw strength from Luke, my little super hero. After a particularly challenging day today (concluding with a bite instead of a kiss when I was putting Levi to bed), Luke said, "Mom, I know today was a hard day for you, but I really love having a brother."

I am truly thankful that things are improving. Missing out on the first two years of Levi's life has made things tough, but not impossible. Each day he shows us signs that he is falling a bit deeper into our lives. We are gradually gaining his trust and it feels good.

Labour of Love

Introducing..... Levi Wogenay Achtem!
Levi means “joined” (English)
Wogenay means “family” (Amharic)

The first week with Levi has been amazing but challenging. Ripping this small child from everything he has ever known and attempting to assimmilate him into our world, has been exhausting. The transition was not smooth, but it has been steady. After spending the first couple of days staring at his new surroundings, throwing everything he could get this hands on and crying, he realized he had an ally in Luke. By the end of the second day, he was following his big brother everywhere. He was not as accepting of me and let me know it in a variety of ways.

Without going into too much detail about his history (because after all, it is HIS-story), it would be fair to say that this little guy is a survivor. He came full of scabies. His 20 teeth had never been brushed. His diet consisted of bread, soup and noodles. He was dehydrated and drank continuously for the first few days. It took six days to get him to sit down in the bath. He still cries when he wakes up because he forgets where he is. He is fiercely independent, thoughtful and methodical. Oh yeah, and he does not speak a word of English – yet.

He is, however, FULL of personality and has stolen our hearts a million times over. He has a wild sense of humour and mimics us constantly. He is cheeky and sneaky and in some ways is a typical two-year old. He puts his plate on his head when he is finished eating. He draws on himself with markers. He carries pencils behind both his ears (after watching Luke do it). He wears his underwear on his head. He is loud and messy and pretty much leaves a trail of destruction.

I got my first kiss on the fourth day. I was putting him to bed and gently stroking his head. He was holding my other hand, but studying it as if he was reading my palm. Our eyes met for a second and I puckered up, anxiously awaiting his reaction. He stared for a bit longer then leaned over until our lips met. It was soft, gentle and definitely tentative. But I took it. It counted. It WAS a kiss. He cracked a smile and closed his eyes. I wanted to stay in his bed and cuddle with him all night, but somebody was in the living room, patiently waiting for a game of “Go Fish”....

Luke continues to be my rock. His positive energy has helped me through the tough times this past week. He is, however, five years old. He has felt the shift in my attention and has been uncharacteristically clingy. I have made a conscious effort to never waste an opportunity to remind him how special he is. Sometimes he makes it easy. The other night he was playing in the living room. He came into the bedroom where I was dressing Levi and said “Mom, I wanted to come in here to play with my toy because then I can be with my family.”

Though not connected by blood, we ARE a family. Just as strong as any I know.

Blog Fixed....

OK, so I THINK I have fixed the issue with comments (thanks Jenn). So, please leave a comment and we shall see if it works now! Thanks! :)

Blogger Help

Hi gang!

Thanks so much for visiting my blog! Several people have emailed me to let me know that they are able to read the blog, but are NOT able to leave a comment. Can anyone help them? Are there steps they need to follow to leave a comment? Thanks in advance for any help!

Super busy lately......but lots more to come, including PHOTOS!

Peace.

Meeting little bro

A few hours after court, and becoming the legal parent of a child I had still not seen with my own eyes, it was time to head to the orphanage for the first visit. The van ride to the outskirts of Addis was familiar. Although not the same orphanage, I remember the feeling well – the day I met Luke and became a Mother for the first time. Nervous energy filled the van. It was nice to be with the other two families, for moral support if nothing else. We talked about gifts we had brought and who would video tape who as they met their child for the first time. The guard opened the gates and we were motioned into a waiting area of sorts. The first child to come down was a very quiet baby. The new parents were overjoyed and held their precious bundle. The next kids to come down were a sibling set – two gorgeous boys aged 4 and 12. They slowly began a conversation with their new family, though a translator, and all seemed calm. The calm was short lived.

The sound was piercing and arrived long before he did. My 2 year old ball of energy was doing all he could to escape the arms of his caregiver. He knew what was going on and was not having any of it. This place was all he knew and there was no way he was leaving this joint! I was strangely calm. Again, this is something you are prepared for. Toddlers do not do well with this kind of thing. I caught a glimpse of him as he briefly entered the room. In a flash he was gone. He was just too upset. The director summoned for Luke. He was asked to go upstairs and play with him, but clearly, I was not. Luke felt very important, as he got to meet his brother before I did. Again, I was calm…..this was somewhat expected. After a while, we tried again. Still no luck. He did, however, have a couple of moments where he seemed just plain old tired of crying. I approached slowly and offered him a candy. He took it and, while focusing on getting the candy into his little mouth, I was able to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. But that was it. The crying began again and I asked for him to be taken back upstairs. He had been through enough for one day. I sat with the other families who were all playing with their kids. We chuckled over who was supposed to video me meeting my little guy for the first time. There was no video. There was no photo. I didn’t even get to hold him. But tomorrow would be another day.

As I was leaving the orphanage, I reminded the director that I had planned to do a series of visits this week, until the little guy was familiar with me. I wanted the transition to be smooth….and after today, it was clear we needed more time. She turned and said, “No, you will take him out tomorrow. In my experience this is the best. In a few days, he will be fine.” Gulp. Luke and I immediately booked out of our bare bones guesthouse and checked into the Hilton Hotel Apartments. If I wanted to survive the next few days, I needed comfort and modern conveniences. We enjoyed our last night as a family of two, sharing a king sized bed. Luke slept like a baby and I stared at the ceiling.

Going to court

I began the process to adopt a sibling for Luke in March of 2008. As I sat in the federal court waiting room some 3.5 years later, I couldn’t help but think of all that had happened to get to this point. It was surreal. I won’t go into details here, but anyone who knows this unpredictable process understands that there is more paperwork than you could ever imagine and so, so much waiting. It sets you on an emotional roller coaster – a process not for the faint of heart. There I was, minutes away from officially becoming a parent to a child that I had only known, yet began to love, through photos. Risky? Yes. So many what ifs. But you can’t go there. When you enter the world of international adoption, you know this. You are prepared for this. It is “written between the lines” in every page you read and every document you sign.

A young lovely lady (the federal court judge overlooking all adoptions) welcomes us into her chambers, along with two other Canadian families, from the same agency, also adopting. She quickly yet carefully studies each of us and begins her daily questions: Have you been prepared for this process? Do you know other families who have adopted? Will you keep this child’s culture alive? Do you have any other children? (she throws a sweet smile across the room to Luke) And then, the big one…….Are you aware that adoptions in Ethiopia are final and cannot be reversed for any reason? We answer yes to all of the questions. She then utters the words I was waiting to hear (because I read a lot of adoption blogs), “These children are yours”……We all look at each other - we want to celebrate, laugh, cry, but we all know the rules. We talked about it in the waiting room. We rehearsed our response. It was SO hard not to weep right there and then, but we all smiled, said thank you and exited quickly. Another group was waiting.

Proud Mama

The first week in Ethiopia has really been all about Luke. This was planned. We intentionally arrived a week before our court date for our new addition. I wanted Luke to experience as much about his motherland as possible; just the two of us - before the confusion and excitement that being “the three of us” would inevitably bring.

The first week was spent in a very bare bones guesthouse; again intentional. A few short steps outside our door and you experience real Ethiopia. Although Addis Ababa is a big city (and you don’t see half dressed women walking miles with heavy bottles of water on their heads), it is still Africa. Yes, as the business center of the continent, there are people hustling and bustling around in suits talking on their cell phones. But mixed right in with them are beggars, cripples, blind people, lepers - people scooting on their bums because they have no lower limbs. Dirt, yes there is dirt. Pollution is rampant and the sky has a steady brownish glow.

Luke has made me particularly proud in the first week of this long journey. I have been impressed with the way he has handled himself in some unfamiliar and somewhat awkward situations. My little rock star has not once complained about: the incredibly long plane rides (and layovers), the very basic accommodation, the new food, the local people wanting to touch and kiss him, the chubby kid in the pool (with his goggles on upside down) who knocked him over multiple times, the people who speak Amharic to him (as they assume he is freshly adopted and can understand them) and the countless people who hold out their hands for money when we walk by. Does he know that they would not be holding out their hands if my skin was the same colour as his? I am not sure. A cruel reality.

On our daily long walks along Bole Road (the Douglas Street of Victoria) Luke doesn’t say much - just takes it all in. We have had a few conversations though. I encourage him to think about what is the “same” as home and what is “different” from home. He is beginning to understand. How do I know this? One morning he hopped in my bed, woke me up and said, “Mama, I am so glad that I am yours. I am so happy that I have food and a home with toys.” Or the day at the pool when a local girl asked him, “Where is your mother?” He pointed at me and replied, “Over there.” She pressed and said, “No your other mother?” Ok, so maybe it was my imagination, but I think at that very moment he stood taller in the water and said (as if he was reciting what I taught him to say), “The lady who grew me in her tummy could not take care of me. Her house was tiny and she could not buy food. So my Mom came to get me.” At moments like these, of course, my eyes begin to water and a lump forms in my throat. More importantly however, Luke makes me proud. He is articulate and confident - continuing to gain a deeper understanding of his history.

A little intro...

So, why blog? As many of you know, I am currently on a big adventure - my biggest one yet! I hope this will serve as a written record of our experiences in Addis Ababa as we complete our family. The first time around, I kept a handwritten journal, which I share with Luke often. This time things are different. I am different. I have now experienced the incredible and overwhelming love that a child can bring. Not just any child though - a child born into a world with little hope. Because of the intensity of this entire experience, I thought that sharing might be good. For me and for you. Enjoy.

P.S. "wändəmm-očč" means "brothers" in Amharic, the national language of Ethiopia