Radio Silence

I was trying to maintain a little bit of radio silence here today.

By now, many of you already know that That Agency has gone bankrupt, stranding 60 or so children and their caregivers in Ethiopia (and kids and staff in Ghana and Ecuador as well) with dwindling food and supplies, not to mention money, and causing many adoptive families in Canada more grief than they should have to experience in a lifetime.

I just didn’t think it was appropriate to post about my life with my child, home and safe in my arms, when so many out there are struggling to find a way to bring their children home, or wondering what will happen to the child they were waiting to become legally theirs, or coping with the devastating loss of a dream of a family. It’s not fair. And it would be ridiculously insensitive .

I also didn’t think it appropriate to bring my opinions to bear on the matter. I am emotional, I am angry, I am concerned, and I am hurting for everyone involved. But not nearly as much as those in the centre of the storm. And they don’t need my ill-informed, bellicose ranting to add to their pain. And I know there is nothing, absolutely nothing, I can say to ease it. No amount of “I’m sorry” will fix this.

But most of all, I think of the 60 or so children whose lives have been changed, and in some cases devastated, by this. I have seen the babies and the toddlers. I cannot forget looking at them and thinking that each and every one was so well loved by their caregivers, and would without question become part of a family that would love and cherish them. After who knows what happened to them in their little lives, they were going to be taken care of forever after. And now, that is not necessarily the case. Their futures are now clouded and uncertain. I can’t bear the thought that any single one of them might not be welcomed into loving family and a happy, healthy future.

There but for the grace of God goes That Baby. That Baby, who is my life, and my miracle, and my joy. That Baby, who I love more than life itself.

I can’t stand it.

I’ll post about it when I can think of something useful, something helpful to say. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe there will be nothing useful I can say.

In the meantime, please bear all of That Agency’s families in your thoughts and in your prayers, if you are the praying sort. They need positive energy, they need answers, they need time, they need healing. They need their hopes renewed, their hearts mended, and their families completed. They need all our support.

And hold those children and their devoted caregivers in your thoughts and prayers. No doubt, there’s no need to tell you why.

6 thoughts on “Radio Silence

  1. Thank you for saying it so plainly, and yet so beautifully. Thank you for your support, it means more than you know.

  2. As a grandparent to one of these little children, who by a miracle of God, became one of our family, I cannot even think what the parents and prospective parent are thinking at this point.
    Our thoughts and prayers are with everyone of you, here and in Ethiopia.
    May God see you through this very trying time.

  3. Well said. You’re right – it is very hard to blog when this is going on. I rewrote today’s post a few times last night before I was comfortable with it.

    Let’s hope for answers and resolution soon.

  4. Thanks for your thoughtful post.

    Although my husband and I had hoped to adopt a second child (we brought home our beautiful Ethiopian son in April ‘o8, and our dossier #2 went to Ethiopia in early June), our pain is nothing compared to those who are in panic mode trying to bring their children home, or who were close to a referral for their first child, or who are single applicants who may have no other options, or who have no money and/or no emotional strength to start over. And it absolutely breaks my heart (my heart is not easily broken) to think about the fate of the wonderful caregivers in Ethiopia and the children who are or would have been part of the program.

    Awful stuff.

    Karen

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