I am not enough...

I've been procrastinating. Writing this post means having to put my feelings into words, and I haven't wanted to turn the images and fears that haunt my dreams and waking hours into coherent thoughts.

While I was pregnant with Kysa, every meal I ate became a gift to my growing child...it was the only real gift I could give her on a daily basis along with sending her thoughts of love and providing a stress free environment for her growth and development. Every locally grown salad, bowl of organic berries, or whole wheat bread became a gift of love to her. I, alone could provide my child nutrition, love and safety. It was so easy and simple. It was empowering to feel that I was enough...

This week we watched the nightly news during our dinner time. The images from the Horn of Africa bring our conversation to a halt and we stop eating as Fredrik and I retreat into ourselves to listen, watch and process. After the segment is over I busy myself with Kysa and Fredrik begins to clear the plates. Dinner is over. I'm feeling physically ill. We avoid each others' gaze, but I feel Fredrik watching me to see if I'm okay. When I can breathe again I initiate the conversation, and we begin to process the information together moving from general concern for the entire region to the very personal. This has been our nightly dance.

And while waiting for our son is hard enough, the famine in Ethiopia and surrounding countries makes the wait excruciating. I just know there is a baby boy who NEEDS us and we are so ready to be his family. We are so willing to help...yet we wait and wait for our number to be called.

I feel utterly powerless. I am not enough...

If you haven't been following the news, please take a look at these images from The Economist posted below. If the people in the images seem far away, foreign and not a part of your world then please consider your connection to me. If you are reading this you are most likely a friend or family member...or also involved in adoption in some way. Please see these people as MY family, because quite simply...they are.

This is what I see:
Every skeletal baby is my son, every desperate yet stoic mother is his birth mother, every defeated man is my son's birth father, every group of weary children are my son's siblings, the masses of people are his fellow countrymen, his tribe, his community....and that makes them mine. It's personal...oh, so personal.

http://www.economist.com/blogs/baobab/2011/08/pictures

Please consider joining Fredrik and me in sending aid to one of these agencies:
IRC (International Rescue Committee) - https://www.rescue.org/donate/drought_africa
World Food Program - https://www.wfp.org/donate/hoa_banners
USAID - http://www.usaid.gov/hornofafrica/
Oxfam - http://www.oxfam.org/en/emergencies/east-africa-food-crisis#donate

We appreciate your thoughts and prayers, and any aid you might send to our family in the Horn of Africa...

Aum Shanti-
Allison