Charlie
A year ago today, you left the second orphanage you had lived. This one you had called home for a little over 6 months.
Through these gates.
And drove down this bumpy gravel road. . .
to get to here, Hannah's Hope.
This was a picture taken your first day at Hannah's Hope.
When we were there in December we were told you mainly screamed and cried your first two weeks at Hannah's Hope. How could you not? You had left, once more, everything you knew and didn't know when your world would be shaken again. Eventually, you would grace those at Hannah's Hope with a smile, although rare during this time.
When your Dada and I visited Edget, we prepared ourselves for many things not knowing what we would see. I can still hear Wass comforting a boy as he screamed in fright from seeing us. (He had never seen white people before.) I still want to cry when I think of you being in a crib with only three sides in a room filled with children who were not picked up, hugged, smiled at, or sung to.
I rejoice you are no longer there. I rejoice you were taken to Hannah's Hope and loved by your special mothers.
I rejoice you have just now been with us for a longer length of time then you have been anywhere else in your short life.
I rejoice in being your Mama and all of the milestones to come.
Love
Mama
A year ago today, you left the second orphanage you had lived. This one you had called home for a little over 6 months.
You left this crib and were carried down a hallway overlooking this courtyard.
And drove down this bumpy gravel road. . .
This was a picture taken your first day at Hannah's Hope.
When we were there in December we were told you mainly screamed and cried your first two weeks at Hannah's Hope. How could you not? You had left, once more, everything you knew and didn't know when your world would be shaken again. Eventually, you would grace those at Hannah's Hope with a smile, although rare during this time.
When your Dada and I visited Edget, we prepared ourselves for many things not knowing what we would see. I can still hear Wass comforting a boy as he screamed in fright from seeing us. (He had never seen white people before.) I still want to cry when I think of you being in a crib with only three sides in a room filled with children who were not picked up, hugged, smiled at, or sung to.
I rejoice you are no longer there. I rejoice you were taken to Hannah's Hope and loved by your special mothers.
{You enjoy taking this photo off the fridge while Mama makes dinner and you wait for Dada to come home. This particular time, you kept turning the photo and saying, "Dada. Dada."}
I rejoice I get to go home everyday to see you and feel your arms just learning to hug or "uuggg" as you call it.
I rejoice in being your Mama and all of the milestones to come.
{Today before bed.}
Love
Mama
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