To follow along...

While our adoption journey has come to a close, our life as a family of 3 (ok 5 counting the dogs) has merely begun. In order to record these entries we've created a new family blog.

Feel free to follow along...
3treats.blogspot.com

And so the Story Ends...

We are all settling in nicely, establishing a family routine and recovering from Jet-Lag. The realist in me realizes that we have some difficult times ahead as we transition to school, continue to teach Samuel the English language, and find discipline methods that work for our family, but I also know that each day we will focus on progress and we will continue to feel grateful for having been given the responsibility and privilege of raising such an independent and dynamic little boy.

The adoption process has been a gift to us as we have met some of the most extraordinary and compassionate people along the way. We've enjoyed sharing stories, advice and the blessing of knowing someone is thinking about you and wishing you well as you begin a new chapter. But like all stories, they end sometime, and this is the conclusion of our adoption blog. I look forward to compiling these entries for Samuel so that he can one day read about the community of people who loved him and cared for him even before his existence was known. What a great story indeed.

Saying Goodbye

Sunday was our last day in Addis as we arranged for an earlier flight home. We woke up, spent our last morning at Kaldi's Coffee House and then met Samuel's family at 11:00 a.m. We walked in the room to find his mother and his three half-brothers. My heart sank as I feared this would be the moment Samuel would decide he didn't want to have anything to do with us.

His mother immediately took him in her arms and showered him in affection. I felt awkward watching - as if I was stealing a mother's private moment, her last moment with her son.

We spent the hour asking questions about his childhood, his family and about how she wanted to be remembered. The brothers shared stories and pictures with us as we began to put the pieces of his childhood puzzle together. Samuel's neighbors had been collecting money, 80 birr a month, in order to send him to private school. It was there that he learned his alphabet, numbers and phonics. As more and more information was shared I wondered how this session was going to come to a close.

At that time, the case worker walked in Samuel and they all said their last goodbyes. I was beside myself watching this scene and felt a sense of relief when he came back to us to walk out to the car. As we drove out of sight, Samuel turned around to his brothers who were waving goodbye to him and I believe that was the moment I completely lost it. Samuel was quiet for some time after our leaving.

He was quiet until our driver pulled up to the barber shop - requested by Samuel, not by us. The shop was literally the size of a walk-in-closet and there were six chairs packed inside. We waited our turn and Samuel hopped up into the chair requesting his rat tail to be cut. Ten minutes later, Samuel was a new man and the entire experience cost us a grand 80 cents. What a relief I felt as I was wondering how I was going to secretly cut the tail off in the middle of the night, convincing him is fell off on its own...

After lunch and one last visit to the older Gladney center, we packed our bags and headed for the airport. Samuel was beaming with excitement - the thought of airplanes and America. We said goodbye to a culture and to people who helped produce an amazing boy named Samuel. And, while the process was quite physically and mentally challenging, we feel blessed each day knowing that our journey as a family has merely begun. We are richer for having experienced his heritage and look forward to sharing his history with him. From Addis to Texas we brought back the best souvenir and look forward to raising a child who will become a voice and an advocate for adoption, Ethiopia, and living simply. And so while one story ends, another unfolds and what a great story it will be!

A Lesson in Humility

Days 6 & 7:
We began by visiting several government orphanages. The first orphanage housed young men ages 11 - 18, the second orphanage housed young children, and the third orphanage housed older girls and sibling groups. Each orphanage humbled us as we witnessed some of the most challenging living conditions.

Kolfe, the older boys center, was the most devastating. Upon arrival Samuel said, "Shinta" meaning "potty" in Amharic. I immediately looked at Todd thinking, "You're going to have to take this one." I owe him big time. The bathroom was a mere outhouse with a hole in the ground; the smell and the sight was atrocious and caused us to "ache" at how these boys were living.

The living centers were not any better. Although the boys were tidy and took great pride in their surroundings, the accomodations were extremely poor. I wondered what it was that made them want to get up each morning and what is was that kept them hopeful as I personally think I would have felt a sense of defeat and hoplessness.

The second orphanage housed many young children who were younger in age. The children immediately surrounded us, asking to have their pictures taken. A woman with whom we were traveling brought a polaroid camera and the children took great pride in their photos, showing them to us again and again, and continued waving them despite the fact they had been fully developed. I don't think they understood that when the picture appeared, you could stop activating the film.

The most memorable scene occurred when we saw young girls hiding their faces from us. They had been part of a tribal community which tatooed them as infants. The tatoos eventually became outdated and faded and caused the girls great embarassment -thus spuring them to hid their faces, cover them with cloth, and pull their hair around their faces to conceal the tatoos. What a delicate matter and a delicate age to have to experience such battles with self-esteem.

One young boy approached us saying, "Hello, how are you? What nationality are you? Do you live in New York?" I could sense from his dialogue a certain desperation for attention, for hope and the ambition of winning over a family of his own. He noticed 2 cars in my bag that I had taken away from Samuel earlier in the day and he asked if he could have them. How could I resist? After all, Samuel will always have cars. I pulled the cars out and handed them over to him as he beamed with joy. Oh what things we take for granted! These children have no possessions of their own.

The sight of these orphanges was hard to stomach, but even worse was the smell that seemed to hover. There were so many people and such small spaces for everyone; I wondered what it would be like to never have a private moment of your own - to always share everything and constantly be surrounded by other people.

There was a blind infant who was barely walking and as we entered the infant room we noticed him latching on to the first set of legs he could find. Apparently this is his routine - find legs, attach, giggle. Another boy was completely imobile, blind and had severe medical demands. Each day he laid in his crib just starving for someone to come by, pat his head and show an ounce of affection. I secretly wished I could fly every American teenager over to Addis to show them these scenarios - to gently remind them of what it means to truly "do without and be grateful for whatever it is you have." I too need reminder of such lesson.

It was this day that I experienced a great deal of homesickness - the longing for a good shower, clean air away from the diesel smog, and familiar foods. It was getting more and more difficult to begin our life as a family so far away from home.
Samuel kept asking, "America? Airplane?" I could tell he had been prepped for what a "goldmine" America would be.

Driving home we passed a woman on the street who had been severely burned - one side of her face revealed raw flesh. She was unable to move and the hump on her back revealed a massive tumor. I gasped outloud as Samuel pointed her out to us. Around the corner we saw a woman sleeping on the curb, an open wound on her foot was a feast for flies. She just laid there - no movement - no attempt to rid them. It was if she had given into her fate.

These scenes become exhausting in a sense. I dare say we became immune to them, as the poverty begins to weigh you down immensely. It's as if there are so many problems and such great need that you don't know where to begin.

The next day we went out with the group to the Leprosy Clinic just outside of Addis. Every linen, every bag, every rug was made by hand by the people living at the compound. We watched as the cotton was spooled into thread, the thread transfered to rustic sewing machines which later create the most beautiful handmade goods. These goods sustain the community of people who work daily to produce something of value for others.

Later that afternoon we bartered again in the city and spent the evening at the Hill Bottom Cafe - which became our staple on the trip. I closed my eyes as homesickness settled in around me...

Testing the Limits

Days 3,4 & 5:
The title of this post is "Testing the Limits" as I believe it is fitting of days 3,4 & 5 in Addis Ababa.

Samuel woke up with an eye infection which required a prescription for eye drops. Thankfully one of the Gladney care givers had a supply. The price tag on the prescription read $2.76. I couldn't believe how inexpensive it was! Although we were appreciative of the prescription, Samuel was not a fan. He kept saying, "No, No...Coy (which means wait)." He believed he should put the drops in himself - so we let him...at least let him believe he was doing it by himself as I gave his hand a little push in the right direction.

Our morning progressed with a coffee ceremony at the Gladney Care Center. A young woman roasted the coffee beans, grinded them by hand, and the brewed the coffee for us. The coffee was served with popcorn, as tradition in Ethiopia. Samuel loved the popcorn...in fact we found that Samuel loved food...lots of food...all the time.

We spent an evening at a traditional Ethiopian restaurant surrounded by locals and Ethiopian dancers. While Todd and I were not adventurous enough to consume much of our meal, Samuel devoured it; as soon as the plate was set in front of him, he dug right on in and helped himself. He watched the dancers carefully, mimicking their isolated movements; he laughed, he ate, he danced and smiled the entire evening.

The next day we ate lunch and went swimming at the Hilton. I ordered a diet coke, as they are not available everywhere and when the bill came I realized it cost me 50 birr - 5 U.S. dollars. I couldn't believe it; it wasn't even the same diet coke found at home as it was called, "Coke Light" and tasted much like watered down coke.

We prepared for swimming and it became quite obvious to us that he had never been in a swimming pool before as he squirmed and seemed unsure about what you were supposed to do in a pool of water. He splashed around and seemed quite content to simply sit in the hot springs water. Of course, he wanted me to take his picture the entire time as he loves having his picture taken.

When Samuel got out of the water, he became irritated with me as I dressed him. I couldn't figure out why he was so dismayed but I later learned that he did not want to wear the clothes he had arrived in - instead, he wanted to wear the traditional Ethiopian outfit we had purchased earlier in the day. In fact, not only did he beg me that afternoon, but he continued begging that night. I ended up hiding the outfit as I wanted to keep it clean for a future baptism ceremony, but he located it and became quite obsessed.

The next morning I let him wear it for 2 hours before breakfast. I cannot describe how proud he was and how he looked as he stared himself in the mirror. When I requested for him to take it off, he was a little upset, but he folded it neatly and tucked it away in the suitcase with great care. Apparently these outfits are coveted by the children and it means a lot to them to have such clothing. I decided then that we better purchase a play outfit before leaving.

We continued to take in the city and learned a few norms about Addis:

1) Men hold hands and link arms while walking down the street as a display of friendship and brotherhood
2) It is acceptable for Ethiopians to pick their noses in public and for men to urinate in public; I was taken back the first time we passed a man urinating on the street
3) It is also acceptable to throw trash down on the ground and out the window; we quickly explained to Samuel that he could not do such things in America and must learn to use a trash can
4) Toilet paper is not flushed, nor is it readily available in restrooms - you must bring your own supply with you at all times
5) Villages all take turns forgoing electricity in order to take part of conservation efforts. From 8 - 8 we lived by a kerosene lamp
6) If it rains, it is not unusual to lose electricity or water - therefore, we actually became part of a 2 day conservation effort


The city is poor and there are people everywhere. I am amazed by their optimism and graciousness as they do without all the amenities that we Americans could not fathom forgoing. As we bartered in the city for souvenirs, I felt guilty for receiving such bargains. Our driver was quick to tell us what items were overpriced and he did a lot of talking on our behalf. Part of me just wanted to throw the birr down on the counter and take the first price given us, but our driver was insistent we get the best deal.

The most challenging part of this experience was mealtime. Meals take an extremely long time and Samuel usually is in need of a nap by then. Our routine becomes:
1) Order food
2) Tell Samuel not to play with knives as he runs around the restaurant waving it in the air
3) Samuel throws a fit because he is hungry and wants starts to do something else inappropriate like throw his cars or act like a maniac saying he doesn't want what we've ordered even though he told us he wanted it
4) I tell Samuel "No" and correct his behavior; I remove the food as he keeps pushing it away
5) Samuel starts to whimper, then cry and will not stop
6) Every Ethiopian in the restaurant begins to stare and then they come over and offer him food, crackers, bread etc..
7) I become furious because I want them to stop appeasing his misbehavior and I want to prove that he will eat what is served, or he will go hungry
8) We end up walking out into the alley to have a Come to Jesus meeting
9) The driver comes to get us; I take Samuel's food in a bag to the car. Samuel says, "I'm hungry" and I then serve him his food out of a bag - no utensils and he is forced to eat pasta with his hands

We keep trying to use Love and Logic - always giving 2 choices but it is difficult. I keep reminding myself that my aim is to produce a "good and productive citizen" and that eventually Love and Logic will pay off. And, several meals later, as we sit down and silverware is placed in front of Samuel, I realize it has paid off when Samuel immediately takes the knife and he places it down in front of me - out of his reach. Ahhh....I remind myself to celebrate the little things.

Meeting Samuel

Day 2:
We woke up to Orthodox Christian chanting around five in the morning. Voices enveloped the city as we laid in bed wondering how Samuel was doing, what he was thinking and how we would receive us. We attempted to sleep a few more hours before our driver was set to arrive, but it really was useless; we would be meeting our son in just a few short hours.

Around 8:45 a.m., our driver arrived to take us to breakfast at a place called Kaldi's Coffee. The exterior and interior decor mirrored that of Starbucks; the barista uniform was black and green just as it is at Starbucks. I picked at my french toast and sipped my machiatto, secretly wanting to rush this introductory meeting along so I could get to Samuel.

We were then told that we would actually not be meeting Samuel until lunch as he had an Embassy doctor appointment. Therefore, we would tour the other Gladney facilities until Samuel returned. We took pictures of other families receiving their children, visited the older Gladney care center, and spent some time with the children there. The facilities are modest to say the least - 3 bedrooms, one living space and a very small courtyard. I looked around at all the faces - most over the age of 2 - and realized that for many, this would become their destiny.

There was one boy, around eight, and I remember watching him closely thinking, "He knows.... He knows that time is running out." It's heartbreaking - how you can see it in their eyes, the hopelessness, the lost feeling of family. It makes you want to scoop them all up and bring them home, that is until you realize you have no parenting skills and you don't even have one child yet...

The next trip on the agenda was lunch and when we arrived, we were told Samuel was inside and was ready to meet us. "Here?" I thought.... "Here at this restaurant? What if he screams or cries? I don't want everyone to watch this major melt-down?" I stomached all of these crazy thoughts as Samuel was brought to us. No crying. No melt-down, just a simple hug and smile. That was it - the moment we became a family of three.

It was also the moment I realized that Samuel had a rat-tail at least 4 inches long. I remember thinking, "How am I going to convince this kid to visit the barber before we leave?"

We met up with the other families and ate lunch together. "What the heck do you order for a boy you barely know?" Pizza seemed like a good and safe option, and to our surprise, he really enjoyed it. How awkward I felt though...thinking about all the things I didn't know about him and wondering how we were all going to merge our lives and habits; after all, we weren't all speaking the same language.

The rest of the afternoon was spent getting to know each other and napping. Samuel discovered the art of turning a lamp on and off; I don't think he had ever worked with a lamp before. He took great pride in his new toys and clothes and discovered the wonder of seeing your reflection in the mirror. What a simple day.

That night, before we prepared for bed, Todd attempted to put Samuel in a good-night diaper as we have heard that sometimes he wets the bed. Samuel pointed his finger at Todd, as is customary in Ethiopia, wagged it and said, "No, No." Todd pulled back and as he walked away Samuel was laughing, as if to say, "Dumb American. Doesn't he know I don't wear diapers?"

We all fell asleep - tucked in together, Samuel's arm around my neck, the sound of barking dogs in the background.

From America to Amharic-a: Day 1

We landed in the Ethiopian airport around 8:00 p.m. and after obtaining our visas and some Ethiopian Birr we met several other couples who would be picking up their children as well. The airport was filled with visitors waiting right at the entrance gate - just staring in the distance for familiar faces. It was quite overwhelming as we didn't know who to look for and we couldn't understand the Amharic dialogue. Our bags went through customs - which was basically a mass of people throwing their bags up onto a conveyor belt to be checked by security. We were passed over many times, people stepped on us, bumped us out of line; I've never felt so "out of place" in all my life. All social norms we had assimilated in the U.S. were quickly tucked away.

Our driver took us to the house where we were staying, and I must admit, that it was an uneasy feeling. It was dark and dusty, but these two elements did not prevent us from witnessing the immense poverty. Everywhere you looked, there were people. It was almost as if they had no place to go and nothing to do. The small-town girl in me clung tightly to the bus seat hoping the fear would dissipate the next day when I could actually see my surroundings.

We stopped at a local grocery store to pick up water - and when I say grocery store -please understand that it is only stocked with mere essentials. No formal rows and very few choices. We quickly learned that you must be aggressive in line. If you exude patience and "wait your turn" you will get passed over by the people behind you. The custom is to quickly place your items on the check out counter and and aggressively seek the clerk's attention to pay out.

The guest house was located in a place called Ayat - a quaint little village on the outskirts of town. The air was clean there - Ethiopia does not regulate emissions and everyone uses diesel. Put two and two together and you understand that we felt as though we were sucking fumes all week. It was not unusual to see animals along the roadside and we were told not to be out after dark for fear of hyenas. Seriously...hyenas?

Although the house was only 5 years old, it felt much like a hundred year old house in the U.S. The walls were plastered, the kitchen was bare and the rooms contained only the essentials. The owner, Mr. Wolde we called him, took great pride in showing us around and I felt completely humbled by the simplicity of his home. After brushing our teeth with our bottled water, we fell asleep with anxiety of meeting Samuel; we fell asleep in a foreign land, with foreign thoughts and wondered how we were going to "fit in" with this new culture.