Beautifully Derailed: Two Mothers, One Daughter

Three years ago today Billy and I were in Ethiopia.

We were at a “fried chicken” restaurant called Dodi.

Woudneh had just come in and told us that he had found Addie’s (Mihret’s) birth mom.

I stared at my food and wondered if what I had eaten was going to come back up.

We have many friends who have met their children’s birthparents, but they have all (for the most part) had time to prepare for these meetings. They’ve had time to think about questions to ask, things they for sure want to say. We were completely unprepared. This meeting was one hundred percent unexpected.

When we accepted Addie’s referral, her case was considered abandonment. We knew she had been left at an orphanage. It pained me to consider her birth mother's hurt and desperation in leaving her baby, and now I was going to see it up close and personal. Subconsciously, I think I preferred being able to separate my joy over a new baby from another mother's pain over what is probably the most significant loss one can experience. When you truly look into the life and the eyes of a person, you can't ignore their pain and sorrow. You can't go about your days in blissful ignorance.

Before heading to Dodi on this particular day three years ago, we learned that the police did indeed know the identity of Addie’s birth mother. They did not, however, know where she was. We had no idea what this would mean for the future of our adoption, but good ol’ Woudneh went to work and located her that very afternoon. We were going to meet her here. When? Oh, in about thirty minutes or so.

???!!!! There are not really words that convey what I was thinking and feeling, because it was such a mix of whirlwind emotions. What if she wanted Addie back? What if she didn’t want her? How would I process that? What would I say to her? What should I ask her?

This was no ordinary introduction, friends. This would be two mothers meeting. Two mothers who called one child, “daughter.”

I can still remember, like it was yesterday, the moment this 17 year-old girl climbed into the van and sat in the seat behind Billy and me. I could feel the weight of her pain and sorrow as soon as she stepped inside. I could see the fear in her eyes. I could see her shame weighing her down. I can still hear her sobs echoing in my heart and mind as she cried out in Amharic, “I am a terrible mother.” I can feel my arms wrapped around her tiny frame as I cried with her and tried to assure her of her worth. I kissed her head and both our bodies heaved with deep weeping. The darkness outside our van windows seemed to be swallowing us, but I remember Woudneh saying with assurance, “We serve a good God, and He will do what is good.” This was a sacred moment. I had no idea at the time how this encounter would so intensely change me.

We learned a little of her story that evening, but not much. She actually went to prison for a bit for abandoning her baby. You might think this sounds reasonable, but please understand, there are not systems in place in Ethiopia that help desperately needy mothers. She was so very young and alone and had no idea what to do. I’m haunted by the look of dread and fear in her eyes when Woudneh asked her about Addie’s father. She was adamant that she didn’t know where he was, and that she didn’t want him found. In her words, “He is a bad man.”

Y’all, I write those words and think my brain and heart are going to explode. This is the same man that showed up out of the blue two months later and demanded to have his child. I just can’t even process it. Thankfully, I don’t have to- I can trust that our God is sovereign and good- not just to me but towards Addie, as well. We know that Addie is most likely with her mother now, but that provides little comfort considering her circumstances- comfort comes from the Lord alone, and the assurance that He sees her and loves her.

The next day, we spent more time with Addie’s birthmom, and had the privilege of meeting her big sister. She was three years old and full of energy and life. Her mother was only 14 years old when she was born. I watched as she slept in her mother’s lap and saw a child holding another child. Her mom went door-to-door looking for “work.” When Woudneh asked her if she could care for Addie, her response was (translated, of course) “What, and have her living on the streets like me?”

Friends, Addie is one of millions. Millions of children whose mothers don’t have the means to feed them. There are orphanages all over the world where children are dwelling, not because they have no living parents, but because their parents cannot afford to care for them. The tragedy that so many children are orphaned by poverty pierces my soul. The idea of a mother not having the resources to feed, educate, and care for her child’s physical health, and therefore having to give up her child? I. CAN. NOT. HANDLE. IT.

It is past time to do something. I am so very far from doing enough, but let's take a step forward together- Join me on November 21^st for Addie’s Christmas Shop. (http://anotherbakerbaby.blogspot.com)
The goods that you will purchase that evening are providing dignified work for women all over the world and right here in the U.S. The proceeds from these goods are feeding orphans, educating kids, giving women a sense of worth, and helping spread the gospel- that Christ came and died for all, and that each man, woman, boy, and girl is His treasure.

Remember Addie’s mother with me. Remember her sister. Remember Addie.

And let's do something.

"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'"

Matthew 25:40