Brotherly Love

One afternoon I was working from home on the couch. Brian and Addise were out running errands together, so it was just me and the boys. I was in the zone on my computer and things got suddenly quiet. You know in most cases if you have young children, this is probably no good. I was wrong.

As I snuck off the couch I "caught" Judah holding Asher...

I leaned in to see what was going on and I heard Judah whisper, "I love you baby brother, no matter what."  And then Judah kissed his baby brother.

About 20 minutes later a similar moment happened. Judah was snuggled on the ground next to Asher and whispered to him, "Love you so much, Asher".

Judah didn't know I was watching. It was a pure expression of his heart.

We've often prayed that Asher would be a healer for Judah and Addise. That in his little life that he would be filling the gaps in their spirit's that we didn't get to at Asher's age. In that moment, I sensed the Holy Spirit saying, "See, I'm doing it. I'm healing their hearts."

These are the moments when you know all the hard stuff is worth it.

Once an Ethiopian...

Addise wore her bright yellow, traditional Ethiopian dress. Judah wore his Amharic, "Ethiopian" t-shirt. It'd been too long since we've had Ethiopian food so we joined some African-loving friends for a traditional meal. We were greeted in warm, Ethiopian hospitality by Aster, which happens to be Addise's middle name. Aster lit up when she met our kids and I asked if she would speak Amharic to our kiddos throughout our meal. She enthusiastically agreed. What happened next nearly gave me a heart attack...

I greeted our friends, corralled Judah and Addise to the table, and began taking our seats. Aster was already leaning over, speaking to Judah in Amharic. She was talking to him and then I heard him say in English, "My name is Judah."

What?!?!

Tears flooded my eyes and I'm sure my face looked like I'd seen a ghost. I gasped at Aster, "he understood you?!?"

"Of course. Once he knows Amharic, it's always in there." she nonchalantly replied. I could hardly process what was happening. My son lived in Ethiopia for 2 1/2 years and has been home for over 2 years. For nearly half his life he's barely heard Amharic. But it all rushed back to the surface.

After an eternity of seconds I pulled myself together and begged her to speak more to him. She joyfully obliged. Throughout our 2-hour lunch Aster asked Judah in Amharic...

"Is she your older sister or younger sister?" ... "She's my little sister."
"Do you want that to drink?" ... "Yes, I want the orange juice like them."
"Thank you for coming here today." ... "Thank you."

A few weeks after this lunch, I'm still overwhelmed at what happened. First of all, my son is smart. Second, he's lost so very much. He lost his language (I'm confident he's lost two: Amharic and his tribal language) at an age when language was so important to his development. Third, we have an opportunity to preserve remnants of his birth language through experiences like this with Aster.

Lunch was amazing. Look at the beauty of Ethiopia through these pictures...

Set-up for a traditional coffee ceremony...a very special Ethiopian tradition.

Addise pretending. Judah indulging her.

True Love.

Traditional Ethiopian meal: doro wat, beef tibs and vegetables on injera.

Judah INHALED the lunch and ate just like an Ethiopian, with the flick of his wrist picking up the doro wat with a hunk of injera. It was food to my soul to watch his roots come to life!!!

After lunch was over we splurged on the coffee ceremony, which includes burning frankincense and nibbling on popcorn. One of my favorite things about Ethiopian culture!!!

Empty coffee cup with the colors of Ethiopia and the Lion of Judah. Full heart.

We will be back for more. Often. Soon.

First Mom. Forever Mom.

I think there must be something special between a mother and her son. Or maybe it's a special bond between a parent and their first-born child. Or maybe it's because I missed out on the first 2 1/2 years of his life. Whatever it is, the connection I have with Judah Abebayehu is indescribable.

Last month I had one of "those moments" as an adoptive mama. If you have an adopted child, you know these dreaded moments well. It's a moment where one of the losses that accompanies adoption comes out of no where and strikes you down. It's a moment when you thought everything was finally "normal" in your family and then a memory or reality hits you like lightening and you are forced into another level of grief for your child. After 2+ years of those moments, I've finally accepted "those moments" will happen for the rest of our lives. It's part of the reality of adoption.

I was driving home late from work one night. I hadn't seen the kiddos that day except for a few minutes in the morning, so I was just thinking about their day with daddy. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks and hot tears filled my eyes.

I have mothered Judah for nearly the exact amount of time that his birth mom mothered him. Two years and one month...almost to the day. Finally, I have been Judah's mommy for as long as the woman who birthed him into this world.

Exiting the highway toward our house, tears poured down my face as I once again grieved his birth mother's loss, Judah's trauma, and our lost time with him. But I also grieved for the first time the thought of losing my son. I cannot imagine giving Judah up after caring for, nurturing, and loving this little boy. After feeding him thousands meals, giving him hundreds of baths, brushing his teeth, changing endless diapers and teaching him how to go potty in the toilet, teaching him how to count to 10 and what shapes and colors were, giving him a bazillion kisses and telling him "I love you" a quadrillion times, how could I let him go forever??????? It was an unfathomable feeling. It leveled me to consider - once again - his birth mother's sacrifice.

I met Judah's birth mom. She was young. She was beautiful. I'm quite certain she loved him. I'm sure she thinks of him every day and wonders if he is loved and cared for. She didn't give him up because she didn't love him. She gave him up because she could not keep him.

And therein lies the paradox of adoption. A beautiful life redeemed and restored and given hope, and another side of the story that continues to bear pain.

Ever observant and watchful.

He still loves sitting on my lap and learning.

My son. My boy. His forever mom.