On the telephone (many times), and now in my head. I haven’t had a decent night sleep since we learned the truth about our Bubbly. I haven’t had a decent night sleep since I knew that her friends had experienced the same type of pain. I haven’t had a decent night sleep since I learned that some of them are still living the nightmare. I’m tired.
But, Ghana keeps calling. Many, many times. Usually, in the middle of the night. Mostly, we answer because we are always ready to hear from birthparents. Sometimes, it’s not them and the voice on the other end of the phone is someone I would rather not ever hear from again. I want to shout “make it STOP!!!”. Last night the 2am phone calls woke my two-year-old and my Giggles. She wants to know why Ghana is calling so much. She never wants to talk to them again because they make me cry. She tells me to forget Ghana. Ghana hurt her, her brother and sister and her friends. Obviously, that’s a problem. I try to reassure her that there is beauty in Ghana, there is good. We need to tell her that it’s not Ghana itself, that it’s just a few people. I want to focus on my own family, to not have to make or receive any more phone calls of a disturbing or threatening nature. I don’t want to clean up other people’s messes that leave other adoptive parents broken hearted. I don’t want to hear anymore desperate Ghanaian voices on the other end of the phone asking me for help. I want it all to stop. I want someone else to deal with it. I want to plug my ears and yell “la la la la LAAAAA!”. But, it’s not to be. It’s too hard to ignore children.
It’s like being in a dark building and having two doors, one with the lit “exit sign” and one without. You know the one with the light will lead you further into the building, so you desperately search for the one without a sign. You know that the one without a sign will lead you out of the darkness entirely, to a much happier place. But, no matter how hard you try, you can’t find it. God makes it hard to find because He obviously doesn’t want me to take the easy way out. So, I faithfully continue to use the door with the sign, the path God seems to want me to follow. I get deeper and deeper, then I can see the path ahead for a little while, then someone makes it disappear. But, I keep following those exit signs, hoping that someday this will all be a bad memory.
Do you know what I’m most afraid of though? What wakes me up in a cold sweat every single night? It’s not the voices on the other end of the phone. They’re half a world away, even when they scare me, what can they really do? I’m safe in my America. So what is it? Why can’t I just see this through? Why don’t I just keep following the signs, faithfully knowing that God will lead me where I need to be. I can’t. I’m scared of one thing on the other side of one door, or, should I say one place. It’s a place that He has led me to SO many times before.
I’m terrified that eventually the door with the sign will open and I will find a sweltering airport with unfamiliar faces, but a VERY familiar smell, and one huge sign above the door that reads “AKWAABA”.
who feels it coming.