According to our very unscientific poll, the winning names were Isabel, Eleanor, Madeline, Sofia, Truman, Edison, Samuel, and.... I can't remember the other boy's name. Huh. Maybe I didn't like it that much after all! The problem is that I don't think we can really name our kids until we meet them. What if we start calling them one name, and when we meet them they seem like they don't even look like the name we have been calling them? Plus, I keep finding new names I like. My new current favorite is Harper. Nathan hates it because it reminds him of harpies... but Elz and I can work on him!
Just for fun, I'll post some of the Amharic phrases I'm practicing.
Coffee: boo na
Come: na
Dinner: raht
Dog: wusha
Don’t touch that: en dahten ah ca
Do you miss Ethiopia: Ethiopian nah fah caht?
Do you understand: gah bah?
Do you want a hug: li ka fah
Do you want food: migeb tifellagahla?
Do you want to go to the toilet: shint-bet mehed tifellagahla?
Do you want to sleep: meh tegna tifellagahla?
Drink: tata
Friend: gwa dane ya
Give me your hand: ya gzhin (i.e. to help me do something)
Good job: gobez
Help: irdign
I am sorry: azen allo
I am your mother: ene enateh negn
I don’t understand: algah banyem
Mummy loves you: Mummy twah dah ha lich
Please hurry: bahc to lo bell
Quiet: set ta ta
They don’t bite: eye na ca soom
We are going home: betachen eyheyden now
You have to take a bath now: ahoon titatebaleh
We are going to sleep now: linn ten ya now
Practice hard! Next time I see you I'll give you a quiz.... but the only ones I can remember consistently are Gobez ( good job) and eyenacasoom (They don't bite) and boona (Coffee). Really, what more will we need?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Okay, I may be biased, but I think the lion is my favorite. I especially like all of the flowers... probably because I drew most of them. We are officially making progress in the nursery again after a small break.In other news...
Our agency gave out three more referrals yesterday. Unfortunately, none of them were for siblings. There are still 4 or 5 people who are ahead of us on the list for siblings. I should stop checking the list so I don't go insane...
P.S. I have heard a few comments about the lion's tiny little head. I realize that his face is tiny, but it is because his mane is so big that it is growing way up on his cheeks. It is just like how some men have little beards and some have beards that almost cover up their eyes. So he doesn't have a tiny head, he has a big mane.... and I am sticking to that explanation for the sake of my marriage!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
This is a video of Salem. She was adopted from Ethiopia when she was a very tiny baby and her parents knew she had some pretty severe health problems. She has had brain surgery and countless hours of therapy and at 22 months just learned how to stand. Three days later, something very wonderful happened. (Click here to watch) Her progress has been amazing and it is SO exciting to watch.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
News...
We got word last week that our agency has given out 6 referals in the last week. That means that we are now about number 15 on the list, and that is VERY EXCITING! Keep hoping that we get a referal before June, okay? If we can get our referal by June we can get through court before the Ethiopian courts close for their month and a half long holiday. If we get a referal in late June or early July we might not get through court before it closes, and then we wouldn't be able to travel until the middle of October... and it would be pretty crappy to know who our kids are but not be able to go get them for four months.
Super Mom
I have been reading a blog by a woman named Erin for almost 3 years now. She is about the same age as Nathan and I are, but she has 11 children. ELEVEN!! Three are biological, one is from Vietnam, one is from Korea, three were adopted domestically (two girls when they were 9 and 6 and one boy who they brought home from the hospital) and three are from Ethiopia. The two youngest are both from Ethiopia and both are HIV +. They are a very interesting family and a lot of fun to read about. I will put the link to her blog over in my favorite links (Full House, Full Hands, Full Hearts), but I wanted to make sure you read this post because I thought it was wonderful.
Kids and Moms (and Dads)
"I have been thinking a lot about kids lately... kids who don't have moms (and dads)... kids waiting for moms, and what life is like for kids who do not have parents. I have been thinking about the transformation that occurs when a child realizes he has a mom, a dad, a family...security, love and somewhere to belong.
With some of our kids, that "realization" that they have a Mom and a family, that they have someone to belong to, someone to watch over them, someone to care for them and someone to love them, has been gradual. With some of our kids, there has been this "a ha!" moment, where you could just see that they "got it".
There was baby Maggie... almost four months old... laying on the bed in our hotel in Vietnam on our first full day together (I had been visiting her for days at the hospital before this point). Before her hospitalization she had lived in a government orphanage where the babies had their names written on their legs in black magic marker so they could be told apart, and got very very little personal attention. She didn't cry when she was hungry or when she wanted something. She was quiet and tiny, but I could tell she loved being held and loved the attention I was giving her.
I walked away from the bed where she was laying to get a bottle for her, and she made this teeny tiny pitiful (feeble attempt at a) cry, and I rushed over and picked her up and offered her the bottle. She got this look of amazement on her face with a little smile that seemed to say, "Holy cow! You mean that crying thing WORKS with you??" and after that she did not want anyone but me and always wanted me close. She got it. I was there for her. I was her mom.
With Mercy, she was nine years old. She had had a mom before, who did not value or respect her role as a mom. Mercy knew neglect and abuse and loss. Despite that, she came to us with an open heart and a surprising amount of trust. At one point during our first week, Des needed her hair washed (and Mercy had been the one to care for Des up until that point, even though she was only three years older). Mercy told Des to go into the bathroom so she could wash her hair, and I gently told Mercy that I could wash Des's hair, and reminded her that that was the kind of thing a Mom should do. The social worker had warned us that "letting go" of being the caregiver of Des might be hard for Mercy and we might have some power struggles over it... but Mercy looked at me and looked at Des and looked back at me and said, "You wash all the other little kids... You would wash Des's hair too?" and I said, "Yes". And she said, "And then what would I do?" and I said, "Well, you could go play." And she looked at Des again and then back at me, and then she got this huge smile on her face, and you could almost SEE her letting go of the responsibility of caring for her little sister. She ran over and gave me a hug, and then took off to play. She got it. I was there for her and for her sister. I was their mom.
With Solomon, that moment came when we left AHOPE for the second time together. We had spent two days together, and then we had gone back to AHOPE to visit. As we walked through the gate and the kids called out his name and came running to say hi to him, he sat in my arms with huge, silent tears running down his cheeks. He would not make eye contact with anyone (including me, the kids and the nannies) and just stared ahead with this heartbreaking acceptance of the fact that he thought he was being left. Again. It hurt me so much that he had come to accept this from life... that nice people came and went, but he did not truly belong to any of them. I couldn't imagine how his little heart felt and how he had endured all that he had already. I comforted him and held him close and told him over and over again in his ear that I would never, never, never leave him.
He started to relax a little the longer we were there and I stayed with him, but he was not his usual self. And then it happened. I put him in the sling, we waved good-bye, went back out through the gate and headed back up the road towards the hotel for some lunch. He got this HUGE grin on his face, and was bouncing up and down in the sling laughing, and then grabbing my face and kissing it over and over as we walked. He was so happy and joyful. He got it. He was not going to be left again. I was HIS. He was mine. I was his Mom.
Since then I have watched him blossom with love. I have watched him learn how to expect and look forward to being held often, comforted when he cries, rocked to sleep, having his needs met, getting individual attention and being smothered in hugs and kisses often. As I crawled into bed last night, a few hours after I had put him down to sleep, his little body turned towards me, and without waking up, he put his arm on me, snuggled in close and let out a content sigh.
All kids deserve that knowledge, that peace and that comfort. All kids deserve to know that they are loved and that they belong to someone.
I believe with all my heart that our Heavenly Father did not send us down here to go at life alone, to worry about ourselves and to focus our lives on material and trivial things. I believe with all my heart that we are meant to live in families... mothers, fathers and children together, focusing our lives on loving, enjoying and serving each other.
We have several reasons to believe that Solomon most likely spent very little (if any) time with his first mother. And yet even after multiple changes in caregivers and "homes", multiple losses and lots of suffering without a mom to comfort him, he KNEW what a Mom was for from our very first days together. His heart and soul reached out to mine and grabbed on firmly. He knew that he wanted a mom. He knew that hugs, kisses and rock-a-byes were something he wanted, deserved and needed. The other kids we met in Ethiopia knew it too. They knew that they belonged with parents. They knew that something big was missing from their lives.
My heart rejoices for my kids and others that have had their lives changed so drastically...who were once alone, and now live with love, security and family. Watching Solomon over the past few weeks has reminded me of what an incredible miracle adoption is.
And at the same time, my heart aches for the so very many kids who are living life alone right now. . Even the very best orphanage is no comparison to a home and family. It is wrong that these kids must wait and yearn for a family. They deserve, as all children do, the peace and security that comes with the knowledge of knowing that they belong to someone, that they are being cared for and that they are loved.
This is why I support adoption...because I have seen the sadness in the eyes of the children who wait for moms, I have seen the amazing transformation in children once they have been "claimed" and loved, and because I believe, with all my heart, that that love and belonging is what our lives on this Earth are supposed to be about."
Kids and Moms (and Dads)
"I have been thinking a lot about kids lately... kids who don't have moms (and dads)... kids waiting for moms, and what life is like for kids who do not have parents. I have been thinking about the transformation that occurs when a child realizes he has a mom, a dad, a family...security, love and somewhere to belong.
With some of our kids, that "realization" that they have a Mom and a family, that they have someone to belong to, someone to watch over them, someone to care for them and someone to love them, has been gradual. With some of our kids, there has been this "a ha!" moment, where you could just see that they "got it".
There was baby Maggie... almost four months old... laying on the bed in our hotel in Vietnam on our first full day together (I had been visiting her for days at the hospital before this point). Before her hospitalization she had lived in a government orphanage where the babies had their names written on their legs in black magic marker so they could be told apart, and got very very little personal attention. She didn't cry when she was hungry or when she wanted something. She was quiet and tiny, but I could tell she loved being held and loved the attention I was giving her.
I walked away from the bed where she was laying to get a bottle for her, and she made this teeny tiny pitiful (feeble attempt at a) cry, and I rushed over and picked her up and offered her the bottle. She got this look of amazement on her face with a little smile that seemed to say, "Holy cow! You mean that crying thing WORKS with you??" and after that she did not want anyone but me and always wanted me close. She got it. I was there for her. I was her mom.
With Mercy, she was nine years old. She had had a mom before, who did not value or respect her role as a mom. Mercy knew neglect and abuse and loss. Despite that, she came to us with an open heart and a surprising amount of trust. At one point during our first week, Des needed her hair washed (and Mercy had been the one to care for Des up until that point, even though she was only three years older). Mercy told Des to go into the bathroom so she could wash her hair, and I gently told Mercy that I could wash Des's hair, and reminded her that that was the kind of thing a Mom should do. The social worker had warned us that "letting go" of being the caregiver of Des might be hard for Mercy and we might have some power struggles over it... but Mercy looked at me and looked at Des and looked back at me and said, "You wash all the other little kids... You would wash Des's hair too?" and I said, "Yes". And she said, "And then what would I do?" and I said, "Well, you could go play." And she looked at Des again and then back at me, and then she got this huge smile on her face, and you could almost SEE her letting go of the responsibility of caring for her little sister. She ran over and gave me a hug, and then took off to play. She got it. I was there for her and for her sister. I was their mom.
With Solomon, that moment came when we left AHOPE for the second time together. We had spent two days together, and then we had gone back to AHOPE to visit. As we walked through the gate and the kids called out his name and came running to say hi to him, he sat in my arms with huge, silent tears running down his cheeks. He would not make eye contact with anyone (including me, the kids and the nannies) and just stared ahead with this heartbreaking acceptance of the fact that he thought he was being left. Again. It hurt me so much that he had come to accept this from life... that nice people came and went, but he did not truly belong to any of them. I couldn't imagine how his little heart felt and how he had endured all that he had already. I comforted him and held him close and told him over and over again in his ear that I would never, never, never leave him.
He started to relax a little the longer we were there and I stayed with him, but he was not his usual self. And then it happened. I put him in the sling, we waved good-bye, went back out through the gate and headed back up the road towards the hotel for some lunch. He got this HUGE grin on his face, and was bouncing up and down in the sling laughing, and then grabbing my face and kissing it over and over as we walked. He was so happy and joyful. He got it. He was not going to be left again. I was HIS. He was mine. I was his Mom.
Since then I have watched him blossom with love. I have watched him learn how to expect and look forward to being held often, comforted when he cries, rocked to sleep, having his needs met, getting individual attention and being smothered in hugs and kisses often. As I crawled into bed last night, a few hours after I had put him down to sleep, his little body turned towards me, and without waking up, he put his arm on me, snuggled in close and let out a content sigh.
All kids deserve that knowledge, that peace and that comfort. All kids deserve to know that they are loved and that they belong to someone.
I believe with all my heart that our Heavenly Father did not send us down here to go at life alone, to worry about ourselves and to focus our lives on material and trivial things. I believe with all my heart that we are meant to live in families... mothers, fathers and children together, focusing our lives on loving, enjoying and serving each other.
We have several reasons to believe that Solomon most likely spent very little (if any) time with his first mother. And yet even after multiple changes in caregivers and "homes", multiple losses and lots of suffering without a mom to comfort him, he KNEW what a Mom was for from our very first days together. His heart and soul reached out to mine and grabbed on firmly. He knew that he wanted a mom. He knew that hugs, kisses and rock-a-byes were something he wanted, deserved and needed. The other kids we met in Ethiopia knew it too. They knew that they belonged with parents. They knew that something big was missing from their lives.
My heart rejoices for my kids and others that have had their lives changed so drastically...who were once alone, and now live with love, security and family. Watching Solomon over the past few weeks has reminded me of what an incredible miracle adoption is.
And at the same time, my heart aches for the so very many kids who are living life alone right now. . Even the very best orphanage is no comparison to a home and family. It is wrong that these kids must wait and yearn for a family. They deserve, as all children do, the peace and security that comes with the knowledge of knowing that they belong to someone, that they are being cared for and that they are loved.
This is why I support adoption...because I have seen the sadness in the eyes of the children who wait for moms, I have seen the amazing transformation in children once they have been "claimed" and loved, and because I believe, with all my heart, that that love and belonging is what our lives on this Earth are supposed to be about."
Sunday, April 6, 2008
April 6?
Let's all hope the Ethiopian government doesn't find out about this... I don't think they would let us bring children to a place that feels it is reasonable to have a blizzard in April.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
A Big Thank You from Rose... and Me
Dear Dad, Thanks for the new kennel for Rosie. As you can see, she can even stretch out her tail now. We have been practicing going into her new "house" all night, and she has started bringing her toys in and setting them in the kennel so she can guard them from Stew. We may have to start saving up to get a kennel like this for poor Stew, because he is trying desperately to get her to share. Thanks for hanging out with me today; it was lots of fun. 
Love, Kate
Love, Kate
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Roller Coaster...
Many people in adoption circles talk about the adoption process as a big roller coaster ride. I always thought it was a little overly dramatic until Sunday, when I found myself crying on the phone to my mom saying, "It is such a freakin' roller coaster!" On Sunday we got an e-mail from our agency saying wait times for referrals have gone from 1-4 months to 6-10 months. Since we have only officially been waiting for 1 month, that would mean we might not get a referral until January of next year. That would also mean that we couldn't go get them until the beginning of April of NEXT YEAR! I was so sad. The next morning I called our agency representative to ask her about the increase (I imagine the poor woman got rather a lot of similar phone calls from everyone else who got the e-mail). She said that it doesn't include us. As of right now, the person who waited the longest for a referral was waiting for 6 months, and that was because they requested specifically a 5 year old girl and a 3 year old boy and it took a long time for children of these specific ages and genders to be found. Our rep went on to say that the average wait for people in our position on the list was anywhere from 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 months... so 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 months from now. So, from the depths of despair to elation in less than 24 hours. It is really, really a roller coaster.
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