I am the emotional, impatient spouse when it comes to our adoptions (if that comes as a surprise to anyone…those of you who know me well can stop laughing at the understatement now).

Josh is typically the “big and strong” one, and sometimes he is so patient it makes me NUTS. Just a week ago when I was being particularly whiny, he pointed out how much longer this “could” have taken, and how much longer it has taken for many other families.

My reaction? Yes, thank you, I know. But I don’t care.

I was almost irritated with him for not being more sick of waiting. He usually tells me things like, “It is going to happen when it happens and obsessing over it is not going to make it go any faster, so don’t make yourself nuts.”

My reaction? Yes, thank you, I know. But I don’t care. I can’t help it.

It’s not that Josh is any less excited or any less desperate to get to our daughter, he is just better about focusing on day to day things and not being obsessive like me. 
Well, usually that is the way he is.

Today was his “busy” day at work. He is the advertising manager for our weekly newspaper, and Wednesday morning is “crunch time”, when the paper has to get put together and on its way to the press by deadline. High stress…always busy.

So when he came home this afternoon and said it had been a rough day for him, it was not a surprise to me, as many a Wednesday are rough.

“No,” he said. “Not a rough work day…a rough Belane day.” He explained that he just kept telling himself to focus on his work, but the more he tried to focus on work, the more he realized why he was trying to focus so hard on work, and that was because his heart was aching for his little girl.

I think a lot of times Josh’s calm, cool and patient exterior in regards to “the wait” are for my benefit…

It is just time. Time for Belane to be home. Time for us to hold her again, and love her and play with her and snuggle her and teach her and care for her and all the other things we’ll get to do with her.

When we walked out of that orphanage on February 15, and I got into the taxi and turned and looked at Belane waving at me, my brain thought for sure I would never see her again. I would never be in Ethiopia again, I would never be at AHOPE again, I would never hold that precious little girl again. My heart feverishly hoped otherwise, but my brain was being realistic. I would go home and get busy with my big family and my feelings and memories would fade…she would live and die in Ethiopia, stigmatized with a disease…one orphan in a country of millions.

A few days later, when we got on that airplane and started to taxi down the runway, as exciting as it was to be bringing home our sweet Bekalu and going home to our family, a piece of my heart was being left behind and it felt awful...heartbreakingly awful.

Our trip back to Addis will be much like retracing my steps. I will be retracing my steps through airports and airplanes…all the way back to Ethiopia, retracing my steps through taxi cabs and overcrowded African streets...all the way back to AHOPE...all the way back to the little girl and the piece of my heart that are waiting…