We’re down to 27 now. Not light years, but it makes a big difference in our minds.
We could be as little as six months away from getting a referral and making travel plans to pick up our daughter. That’s not long.
Our baby has probably been conceived. Maybe she is even born by now. That’s amazing to think about. But it still seems a little far away. Abstract.
Someone else is taking care of her. That someone may not want her. Or she may not have the means to take care of her. That someone may be sick and not have the energy. Or not have a doctor.
That someone may have AIDS and is praying it won’t get passed along to her daughter, our daughter. Her family may be shunning her for getting pregnant. Her husband, or boyfriend, may abuse her. She may be sad and lonely.
She may be dreaming about the future of her daughter. She may not even know whether it is a son or daughter yet. She may be wondering if it would be best to give up her child and let someone else raise it. She may think of America. Maybe.
I know we think about her a lot, both mother and daughter. We read all the adoption articles and books about Ethiopia by Ethiopian writers. We collect clothes and baby supplies. We finish our paperwork and update our passports. We blog.
It’s not too hard waiting, because we are pregnant with hope. And being pregnant can be pleasant too (so I hear).
While we wait, we pray for mother and daughter. And for the strength we will need.
And we count down. Tick. Tock.