The Difficult Journey Home . . .

Through each flight and airport, we are the walking numb . . . we automatically move through the required motions to get from point A to point B. I remember little of the 26 hour flight home. Uppa D and I have spoken very little, but we are grieving together. All it takes is a catch of the eye or a look of disbelief between us. We need no words . . . because there are no words to describe our pain.

My thoughts alternate between . . . “we are walking through the airports without our precious Sweet Pea. It is so different than what was planned.” and “Where is she? Is she crying? Does she need her bottle? Is she ok?” Those thoughts keep repeating over and over in my head. And, hopefully, if I keep repeating it enough, it will eventually start to become . . . real.

I was dreading the flight from Dubai to Houston . . . 16 hours of looking at the bulk head wall . . . just the two holes . . . where the bassinet was to have been. 16 hours of a constant reminder that I had lost my baby girl.

But, God knew my pain . . . and provided a healing diversion. There was a mother and 2 children (3 yo & 12 mo) across the aisle in the bulk head seats from us. The 3 yo was a sweet toddler girl, with big brown eyes . . . the very image of Sweet Pea. At first, I cringed when I heard her mother use her name, Maria . . . so close to Sweet Pea’s name, Marina, . . . off only by 1 letter! I just sat there and watched her in her sweet, toddler-like, playful activity. I realized that God was allowing me to catch a glimpse of what my baby girl might look like in 3 years. Such a gift of interaction with this little girl. I played with Maria several times from Dubai to Houston. I eventually felt like I needed to apologize to her mother for staring at her so long and often. I told her mother that she reminded me of a “very special baby girl” with big brown eyes and a beautiful, sweet smile. I told her mother that she should be so very proud of Maria. Her mother asked if I had children, I said yes. She smiled and told me I was a good mother!

We touched down in Houston and I said a mournful good-bye to Maria.

We made it to the gate for our final flight . . . and then . . . my sister was there, gathering me up in her arms! My brother-in-law and sister had driven from Austin to spend the layover in Houston with us. Such a wonderful, refreshing 2-3 hour surprise of support!

We boarded the final leg of our flight home. One more hour and then the difficult journey would be over. But, the hardest moment of all still to come . . . walking into our Home with aching, empty arms.

Finally, it was over. Uppa D hugged me as we walked through the airport to baggage claim.

We were met at the airport with no fanfare, no celebration . . . no grand entrance with Sweet Pea, but by my homestudy social worker, G’ma and 2 of my dearest friends and adoptive mothers. They gathered us up, enveloping us with love and support.

And then . . . Nicky . . . my sweet boy, the love-of-my-life, ran to greet us. I snatched him up . . . tears streaming down.

So very bittersweet . . .

Mama