Just a little bit longer

No, this isn’t a post about receiving my referral. I just want to get that out there right now, so most of you can go ahead stop reading now (…or stay and your wildest dreams will come true).  So, as you know, we are first on the wait list for a Ugandan boy, aged 2-4. This doesn’t mean there won’t be other people jumping ahead of us and adopting babies, or girls, or older children…it just means that the next 2-4 year old boy is going to be matched with us. OUR boy.  It still freaks me out (in a totally good way) to write that, say that, or think that.

So, today is the 17th day on the wait list.  The people before me got a referral in about a month and a half. It’s looking like that’s our timeline too.

We finally broke down and called our coordinator yesterday just to get an idea of when, because I didn’t think I could handle thinking “it might be today” for another month. Turns out, we’ve probably got a few weeks ahead of us. Possibly a month.  At first I felt down about that, but today I’m just glad I know.  Guess what? For the first time in a week my phone is upstairs, charging. Not next to me. Freedom from my phone. It’s like I’ve just broken up with a clingy boyfriend that just kept disappointing me. But yeah, in a couple of weeks, my obsession with phone calls will be reborn. Probably in a big way. So by the end of April, if you are NOT my adoption agency, then text me. Or come see me. Because if the caller ID doesn’t say Colorado, I will mess you up. Okay, no I won’t.

But probably. Probably I will.

Also, something totally unexpected and exciting happened to me this week.  I became friends with a man from Kenya (whose daughter is in Abi’s class) who not only has family in Uganda, but has friends from Uganda that live right down the road!  Not only that, but he understands Luganda, and I was able to practice a bit of it on the phone with him!  We are planning on getting our families together so we can get to know one another. Hopefully we’ll be able to meet his Ugandan friends soon.  It was SUCH A BLESSING to meet him.  And I don’t say that lightly, because I mean it.  Thank GOD for that bumper sticker – may no one ever say that relationships cannot be based on bumper stickers.

More than anything, I want our son to be able to remember his language and know his culture.  I want him to be able to visit Uganda as he’s growing up (because yes, he will be visiting as many times as we can afford it)- but I don’t just want him to visit it as a tourist, I want him to feel like he fits in. I want him to feel like he’s a part of it.  I don’t want to scrub the Africa off of him and wrap him up in an American flag, anymore than I want my British husband to stop speaking in that gorgeous British accent and stop using puns (okay, I lied. I really do want him to stop using puns).  I want him to be proud of Uganda.  And yes, I’m a patriotic girl. I love hot dogs, baseball, and the 4th of July. I want him to love all of that too.  But why can’t he love both?  Because that’s what I want for him. I know it’s idealistic, and me learning fluent Luganda seems like a long shot when I have trouble remembering peoples’ names five minutes after meeting them, but I can tell you this, I will try. I have been studying Luganda for the past few months for about an hour a day.  And yeah,  I fantasize about going to court in Uganda and blowing the judge’s mind with my bilingual skills.


So maybe some of it is selfish as well.  Will I blow his mind? No, probably absolutely not. But I will be able to communicate with my son when I first meet him. With his caregivers. Whoever is taking care of him now, I want them to know- I will do everything I can to preserve as much as I can. Because I love him, even now.  Will he appreciate it when he’s older? I hope so, but maybe not.  But I’ll never regret it.

Anyway, that was insanely long winded, so I will leave you with an example of some of my conversation skillz basic Luganda phrases that I have learned- and probably some of the ones I will say to our little man when I meet him.  Orioki, just ignore how bad I am and tell me I’m awesome.  Because that would be great.

Me most likely butchering another language


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