There have been a few times in my life where my body has felt the enormity of a situation before my brain can comprehend what was about to happen.
When Scott was facing me on a Milwaukee beach and he reached into his pocket and started bending to one knee…
When we went to our first OB appointment with our first pregnancy and we heard the monotone whirring of the ultrasound machine instead of the heartbeat that we were expecting…
When I was pregnant with Emara and groggily woke up at 2am to my water breaking…
When I got an email on a February day that our adoption agency was closing…
The moments that have shaped my life. Joyful. Blissful. Heartbreaking. Tragic.
I know you have been there. I’m sure you can trace back to a time where you felt the moment before you understood the weight and intensity of what was about to come.
Well, I experienced that again this past Thursday.
My body felt it. My heart was pounding so loudly, I was SURE that it was preparing to jump outside of my chest.
My head felt like it was full of helium. So light and airy. I wanted to hold it tight, so it wouldn’t float right off of me.
My hands were shaking. A nervous kind of excitement that I feel when I am about to do something terrifyingly awesome. Like cliff jump or ride a roller coaster…or now that I am 32 and cautious… do a somersault.
My entire body felt the weight of what was about to happen and it went into high intensity tingly skin mode.
My brain though? Butter…Melted butter actually… right at the stage of quasi-remolding back to its hardened shape.
I couldn’t form complete sentences and I couldn’t sit down for the life of me.
We got an email. An email that asked for Scott and I to contact our adoption agency asap. Together. Which has NEVER happened. So, I emailed them back and asked “Is this our referral phone call????” to which I got the reply, “IT IS!”.
We scheduled a phone call two hours away (I was baby-sitting and Scott was at work). Then decided we couldn’t wait another minute, so Scott took off from work and headed straight to me so we could call our agency and “meet” our child.
Poor Emara. Waiting for Scott, I would just walk back and forth throughout the house randomly calling out half-directives:
“Emara, clean up that…” (forgets what I am saying and walks to bathroom to stare at my shocked face in mirror)
“Let’s grab a book and we can…” (Grabs a book and walks into kitchen and sets book on top of fridge)
“Oooh….how about we put on our shooooo” (goes to front door to put on shoes but then decides it’s time for water)
“Take your shoes off, babe, we are inside silly!” (completely forgets that previous comment to child was about putting said shoes on feet)
If you know me, you know my child eats full meals at normal times and always has veggies and fruits.
So, you know that I was nowhere on the playing field when I look back on this day to remember that Emara had a strawberry shake for lunch (I was on the phone with my mom crying and laughing and it was lunchtime but I couldn’t drive home because I would lose phone service, so I drove through the ONLY drive thru around….and Emara yelled out “ice cream!” and I listened without using my brain to decipher if an ice cream only lunch was appropriate) AND I forgot to feed anyone dinner until 7pm. HER BEDTIME.
It was that kind of day.
Because the child we have been praying every single night for, crying over, thinking about, hoping for…
Well, this child is no longer “Baby Z”, “little brother or sister in Ethiopia”, “your sibling in Ethiopia”, “our baby in Ethiopia” or any other name we tried to come up with for this little one.
We have a name. And we saw his face. And his tiny body.
His name is Abraham.
Our little Abraham. He is almost 5 months old and perfect.
We have a son.
We got our referral phone call in the afternoon on Thursday, March 5, 2015.
They told us the limited knowledge they have of his story, they shared with us the documentation they have, they shared the one picture there is of him from when he was around one month old.
We listened. We were giddy. We were in shock. We were emotional. We were teary (I sobbed). We stared at his picture.
They asked simply “Are you interested in accepting this referral?”.
We simply said, “YES”.
And just like that, we knew.
And so now, we continue the process of waiting and more applications and more processing…
We have a few things to complete on our end now. We have a LOT of money to come up with (around $25,000!). We won’t actually meet him and hold him for at least another 4 months…
BUT, we will be very busy during this next phase of waiting… so hopefully, it will help pass the time before we can finally hold our son in our arms.
There is so much to celebrate and think about and so many questions yet to be answered. We will definitely keep you all up to date on our next steps. We were already planning on rolling out our 5k fundraiser on Monday and we need your help! So, be looking for that!
But for today, we continue to stare at his picture. Respond to all of our wonderful family and friend’s messages of love. Think back on the years of waiting with a newfound hope that it will ALL BE WORTH IT.
Sweet, precious Abraham… we are coming for you.