Happy Mother's Day

I just spent quite a while trying to figure out how to say "Happy Mother's Day" in Amharic - to no avail.  I guess good ol' English will have to do.

This Mother's Day brings with it a lot of different emotions for me. 

All I ever wanted was to get married and be a mommy.  Lawyer?  Nope.  Doctor?  Nuh-uh.  Teacher?  No thanks.  State worker?  Riiiight.   Stay-at-home mom?  Now you're talking.

I love my girls more than words can describe. I love the cards they make for me with their best representation of me and them surrounded by flowers and rainbows and peace signs.  I love that they try SO hard to be extra good one day out of the year.  I love that they wait patiently for me to wake up so that they can wish me a happy Mother's Day first thing in the morning.  I love that they want to lavish me with foot rubs and playing with my hair and rubbing my back.  I love that my girls and I cuddle up in bed together to take a Mother's Day nap.  I love that even though I would relish nothing more than a day of peace and quiet and my own thoughts, I can't imagine being anywhere but with them and their endless bickering on this day.

Some of you may remember the Mother's Days when you were pregnant and anticipated being a mommy for the first time, or second, or third.  Those were such neat Mother's Days.  Especially the very first one, where you're kind of a mommy because you already have the responsibility of nurturing and being responsible for someone other than yourself, but you haven't realized the FULL responsibility of it yet because there's no crying, no diapers, no sleepless nights, no clothes covered in snot and spit up.  You're glowing because this is the closest you have ever been to being celebrated on Mother's Day, you rub your belly, enjoy every kick, and long for the day that you can hold the baby in your arms.  Such a feeling of anticipation...

I'm feeling that same anticipation this Mother's Day, but in a much different way.  Something is definitely missing.  Knowing that next year I'll have another little one fighting over my lap at church or vying for their snuggle spot on the bed for group nap time is very exciting, but I can't help but think about where my baby is this year on Mother's Day.  Is he/she still in the womb?  Has he/she been born and is cuddled in mommy's arms, nursing?  Is he/she already in Durame at the intake center being cared for lovingly by nannies, but no mommy?  Is he/she lying on the street, wrapped in rags, alone, scared, hungry?  That last one is especially tough, but a very real possibility.

Mothers Day in Ethiopia - A Fall Celebration!

Mothers Day is an extra special day in Ethiopia. In fact, Mothers day lasts for three days in Ethiopia.

Not only is it a day to honor mothers, it also comes at the end of the rainy season which is something special of its own. Instead of celebrating Mothers day in May, in Ethiopia Mothers Day comes mid-fall. During mothers day, the people enjoy a three-day feast called “Antrosht”.

Ethiopians celebrate by making their way home when the weather clears for a large family meal and their three-day celebration. For the feast the children will bring ingredients for a traditional hash recipe. The ingredients are divided along gender lines, with girls bringing butter, cheese, vegetables and spices while the boys bring a bull or lamb. The mother prepares the hash and hands it out to the family.

After the meal a celebration takes place. The mothers and daughters ritually anoint themselves with butter on their faces and chests. They dance while the men sing songs in honor of family and heroes. This cycle of feasting and celebration lasts three days.

~From Africa Imports African Business Blog

On this Mother's Day, I have spent a lot of time thinking about my baby's birth mother.  As a matter of fact, I cried openly during worship at church this morning, thanking God that the sanctuary was dark and the music loud.  There are two things I know to be true about my baby's birth mother at this point - she has died or will die OR she has surrendered or will surrender her baby.  Reading the text above, it is very obvious that Ethiopian women love their children and their role of "enat" (mother) is something of honor, something that is desired, and something to be celebrated.  Knowing that, I have cried many tears today thinking about my baby's birth mother.  If she is ill and will soon die, how sad she must be thinking about the child or children she is leaving behind.  She is most definitely worried about them and their future.  Will they have enough to eat?  Who will take care of them?  Who will hold them when they are sad?  Who will remind them how much she loved them?  Our baby will forever have a hole in their heart and their life because of the loss of their birth mother. 

Or, what if our baby's birth mother had to surrender them?  What if she could no longer feed her baby and knew that the only way that child could survive was for her to let them go?  What if on this day, Mother's Day, she is carrying her baby on her back, miles and miles, with aching feet and an aching back, and a broken heart knowing with every excruciating step that she will not be bringing her baby home with her?  What if she is an unwed mother, scorned because of the pregnancy and the baby and her only option is to leave the baby on the street, hoping it will be rescued by the police and taken to an orphanage?  What if she is very ill and knows that her days are few, but loves her baby enough to surrender him/her to someone who can provide?

On this Mother's Day, as I look at my daughters and my heart bursts with love for them, I can't even begin to imagine the grief and heartache of our baby's birth mother.  The woman who carried him/her in her womb, who had the heartburn and rib jabs, who went through the epidural-free pain of childbirth, and who is giving us the greatest gift ever given - her child.