Where You At?

I love this song by Jennifer Hudson. Besides her amazing vocals, I am struck by how much it jives with the feeling of some of the birthmoms we came across in our adoption journey. They didn't want to talk much about birthfathers, but seemed to wonder if they would ever find a man willing to stick around. They are very strong, independent women, but it's not lost on them that they have to face raising children alone while I face it with a committed husband. A few times I felt them looking at me as if to say, "You don't realize how good you have it."

http://www.jenniferhudson.com/news/jennifer-hudson-performs-where-you-at-ellen

Welcome to the World, Baby Cy

Having grown in several different ways, our family was finally completed last Friday, March 11, with the birth of this beautiful baby boy, Cyrus Rex, weighing in at a mere 5 lbs 9 oz. Cy was officially adopted Saturday. We felt there was one last little boy out there for us, and we're so grateful finally to have him. His birthmom is a woman of great courage, love, conviction, belief in God, and selfless love for this baby boy. We will always make sure Cyrus knows how much she loves him, and how courageously she faced this heart-wrenching moment in her life. Words can't express our gratitude.

****
As I am a word person and our choice of names always surprises people, I might as well explain this one. We felt Cyrus would be the final little "King" needed to crown our family. Thus he is named for the great King Cyrus of the Bible, who was most famous for integrating different peoples peacefully. His middle name is the latin "Rex," for King, used for all the kings of England--"William Rex," "Henry Rex," etc., which I have loved ever since we lived there.

You can view a slideshow of Cyrus at http://bellababyphotography.com. Password: 0311cyrusswensen

I'm sitting at a local lunch counter with Willa. Minutes ago she was her normal giddy self, when one comment suddenly caused her eyes to fill with tears and that well-known cloud to descend over her face. She said something about when she used to speak Spanish. I chuckled and reminded her that it was Amharic. This was the wrong way to react, and there was no consoling her. "I should have never watched Dora!" she cried.

She can't remember a word of Amharic, and can only remember a fraction of what Saffron can remember about life in Ethiopia. Both girls feel somewhat helpless and scared about this inevitable loss of memory, but Willa rarely feels it so acutely. Pretty soon she was on my lap in tears. She said she doesn't wish she had never come to America--she just wishes she could have both Ethiopia and America in her mind. No matter what we've tried, the one seems to push out the other. We'll make some more video of them telling memories tomorrow, and watch some home videos of Ethiopia, but all we can do only slightly slows the flow. And I understand--if Jasper and Ruby had been adopted into an Ethiopian family I would want them to remember their old life here, too.

I'm so grateful we picked up the girls and saw their homeland with our own eyes. I can't imagine helping them through this without that perspective. I want to take them back to visit as soon as we can afford it, and get them an Amharic tutor as soon as they want it. Otherwise, they will have to deal with the loss of Ethiopia the way we all deal with all kinds of loss, and will be stronger for it.

Happy Willa is back now. But it was probably a good reminder for me to see the depth of feeling, of grieving, that a five-year-old can have. Ask anyone who's seen it--when she gets that look in her eyes, she could be a million years old.

Merry Christmas, everybody. We just finished putting up our lights.

Below is my all-time favorite Christmas scene from a movie, even including It's A Wonderful Life. Few people now realize what a sad song "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" was when it was first sung by Judy Garland in the timeless Meet Me In Saint Louis. It was a lullaby meant to cheer both the singer and the listener at a time of loss and uncertainty. It reminds us to try to enjoy Christmas: hope for better times if we're down, or time again someday with lost loved ones. This Christmas I dedicate it to my brother-in-law, Curt, who just lost his best friend in a shooting accident.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, everybody. "Muddle through somehow."

(For some reason it can't be shared, so you'll have to click on the link above and view it at Youtube.)

A Sleep and A Forgetting

I can't say it better than Mr. Wordsworth:

"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!"

Saffron's birth as an American girl is like "a sleep and a forgetting." As she told me tonight, she finds silent tears on her cheeks in bed because she is forgetting her language, and her songs, and how to cook her native food. The soul that rises with this new girl "hath had elsewehere its setting, and cometh from afar." And just like Mr. Wordsworth says, she comes trailing clouds of glory from her previous home, and not--nor ever will or should be-- in entire forgetfulness of that home.

I told her she can make Wat on Saturday. I reminded her we have one of her songs on film, the only one she was ever willing to sing for the camera, and that I have put an Amharic course on her iPod. But I know none of this will be enough. She will forget, anyway. And that won't help with the people she's lost, whom I know she misses. Sometimes I'm torn between anger that her father gave her up and set her on a path to leave her homeland, and gratitude that it brought her to us.

Nevertheless, it is comforting to know that Heaven did lie about her, and her sister, in their infancy. They had a mother who loved them. Today is Steve's birthday, and so we went to see Secretariat as a family. Saffron told me that in the movie she had a memory of her mother. When she lay dying, she said to Saffron, "I wish I could give you something to remember me by." But she had nothing to give. "It's OK," I said. "You didn't need anything. You're remembering her anyway."

Here is a video of Saffron singing an Amharic song at her baptism in June. This one is about Jesus taking her hand to help her.

NPR.org - 'I Love My Hair': A Father's Tribute To His Daughter

Emily(Swensen5@me.com) thought you would be interested in this story: 'I Love My Hair': A Father's Tribute To His Daughter
http://m.npr.org/news/front/130653300

This message was included:

Great story behind the "I Love My Hair" song.

SESAME STREET: I LOVE MY HAIR! AWESOME!!!

A friend alerted me to this fabulous Sesame Street video. You may have already heard the buzz: this little muppet singing about how she "loves her hair" is a sensation. All three of my girls absolutely love the song, and the message. And take it from me: it's a needed message.

Happy Birthday, Prince Charles

This evening our little Charles would have turned 3. Three years on, the thing that probably surprises me most is how much the kids still talk about him. Just today at Jasper's football game Ruby said, "Mom, see the way that little girl is climbing all over her big brother on the ground? Do you think if Charles were alive he would be climbing on me like that right now?" I don't remember that my sisters or I talked quite as often about our sister, Kathryn, who died as a baby. Maybe it's because she came before all of us, so we didn't experience her death.

This feels like the first time we're truly experiencing what it will be like to have his birthday come and go every year in our busy lives. The first year his birthday meant a lot of other things besides a birthday--we had survived one year since that horrible day of our baby's death. I had anticipated the anniversary with fear, but then realized the anticipation was worse than the actual day. I thought of him on my own, and didn't need a certain day to remind me. My friend Charlotte, whose son Mason had just died a few months earlier, came over and helped me make a birthday cake for Charles. She was the perfect person to spend that day with.

That first birthday passed with little acknowledgement from friends and family and that hurt a bit, but only because I had been so afraid all along that people would forget Charles' existence. It sounds irrational, but that was a tremendous fear of mine while I was pregnant--I felt defensive of him, and how little his life might matter to people when it was over in the blink of an eye. That's why I made a point of letting people stream in to the delivery room and hold him right after he was born. I desperately wanted him all to myself for those short minutes--but I also wanted others to feel him. To love him as I did. So I tried to give him to them. It was really, really hard.

And now I'm crying. I'm quite surprised. I haven't cried about Charles in a long time: probably almost two years. I realized early after his death that there were two parts to my grieving process. There was the sadness over the son I would never know, and there was the trauma of what I had been through, anticipating a child's death, pushing him out to face it, and then holding him in my arms--powerless--as it happened.

After the first year, I felt my strongest feelings about the experience came from the trauma, not the loss. I felt peaceful about having Charles again someday, and about enjoying the children living at my feet. But it was still hard to think about that day, and that time in my life, and that time in my children's lives.

His second birthday we spent in Ethiopia, in the midst of our fingerprint troubles. And though we thought of him, the trauma felt pretty far removed, and the loss felt about-to-be-filled by the girls. I felt Charles' approval and happiness for us.

But today I've felt the loss. Now that we're settled in as a new family, and a mainly girl family even though I've actually birthed more boys than girls, I've felt the loss of my little boy. Today I've felt frustrated for the lack of a little three-year-old brother climbing on the girls, and running out on the football field after Jasper in his football gear. That would have been sensational. I can't say I miss you, Charles, because I don't really know you. But I can say--I can really, really say--that I wish you were here. I wish you were here.


Phew. I'm embarrassed to admit to being that emotional about this. But it's good to get that out. It's great, though, to remember that most of the time I don't feel sad about it at all. How marvelous that life, and joy, go on.

Thanks to those of you who remembered Charles today, and sent us messages. I really appreciate it--again, from that place inside that still fears sometimes that people forget he was born. But also to those who didn't (lest I get phone calls), don't worry about it! I've realized since that first year that just because people don't mark a specific day doesn't meant they don't think about or remember you. In fact, I myself am not good at marking specific days or places. I don't go to Charles' grave often, and we didn't do anything special today, because we've learned that we're just not special-place or special-day people: we think about Charles when we want to think about him, and visit him wherever we want to visit him.


Since I don't have any video to post of a Charles birthday party, here's a little video from a party I threw for the kids last week, to celebrate one year together as a new family.

ET(hiopia), Phone Home: the Sequel

Ethiopia Dad just called, out of the blue, to tell us he has sent a letter with family photos in it. We hurriedly woke the girls up to talk to him. Saffron cried in frustration because her native tongue would no longer come to her lips. She could understand much of what he said, but couldn't answer back at all, except the equivalent of "How are you?/I'm fine."

Willa can't understand or speak a word of Amharic. I had to prompt them with what little Amharic I know, and ended up talking to him myself, at least getting across that S is an amazing soccer player and W loves to dance.

Little Brother said "Selam." He sounds much older. Months ago, when we first called, he cried like a small child.

Recently I asked Saffron how often she thinks about her dad and especially brothers, and how often she misses them. "In the morning," she said. "And at school. And at night."

I have to remind myself that Ethiopia Dad relinquished the girls to an orphanage almost a year before the orphanage gave them to me. I'll never quite understand why. I didn't take them from their home--I gave them one when they had already lost theirs. But I'm not naive about the pain they will continue to go through. Contrary to what many people think, for me there is no jealousy. I am so grateful he loves them and they love him. Why would I begrudge my children the love of their first family?

Oh My Hair

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When we first had the girls and many people said, "Oh, I've heard learning to do the hair is the hardest part!" I thought--"Are you kidding me?! I'll take hair over behavoral psychology!" But, it's true that there's quite a learning curve for Caucasians to learn the secrets of beautiful African hair. I love my girls hair, and have enjoyed learning to take care of it. The African American community has been absolutely wonderful in helping educate me. I completely disagree with white moms who say they don't feel welcome in African American salons. I have gone in admitting I needed help, and have been treated very well at a couple of different salons. I'd love to help dispel this myth that White mothers are resented. Yes, I know there are some groups in the African American community who do not support children of African descent being adopted into White families. But my personal experience has been great. I have been treated like a mom, by moms.

I am NOT a hair person, but between me and Saffron we've figured out some cute hairstyles. I do the designing and parting, and we take turns at the braiding. This style, below, I love because it evokes the look of an African hair wrap swirling around the head. Her bangs are created with twists shown me by a woman at Disneyworld. They relax after that first day and look really adorable. They can be left in for about two weeks. Don't worry that she looks sad--she's just exhausted because it took four hours and was midnight when we finished.

Saffron's Wrap Hairstyle:




This style, Willa's fauxhawk, actually came about because Willa was bawling and refused to have any more braids. Saffron was braiding her hair, and always starts with a few braids on each side. So, we ended up with a Grace Jones-esque fauxhawk which we thought was actually very cute. She wanted me to leave the braids and cut the top, but I didn't think that was too great of an idea.



Willa's Fauxhawk:

Saffron and Willa in Their Ethiopian Dresses

Oops--just found this photo post that never got posted. Saffron's beautiful dress was ordered online from a charming woman at Ethiopia Design in California. She rushed it for us because it was for Saffron's baptism (last June), and even included some Amharic words to remind Saffron how to say them. Willa's dress is one of the ones we bought for the girls at the Leprosy Hospital in Addis Ababa. Interestingly, the girls hated and wouldn't wear their Ethiopian dresses the first few months in America. But now they actually choose them for church many Sundays, even over their foofy American dresses.

The Girls' First Baseball Game

Tomorrow we are headed on an RV trip to Zions National Park with Steve's parents. They have enjoyed getting to know the girls and, in honor of their efforts at being "new" grandparents again this year, I thought I'd post this guest post. This was written by Steve's dad, Grandpa Karl, about his experience with the girls this summer at their first baseball game. They were glued to him through the whole, long game. (I SO appreciated not having them glued to me. I am a HUGE baseball fan and I like to watch every pitch.) Here is his report:

(As Emily watched me talking with Saffron, Ruby and Willa last night, she asked me to be a “Guest Blogger” for SwensenSays. So here’s my story of our family get together.)

It was a perfect evening for a baseball game. Because we knew that Steve and his family loved baseball, Virginia and I wanted to take them to a Salt Lake Bees game.

We had perfect seats for the game. We stretched along the first row of the balcony right behind home plate. We could see everything. The seats were in the shade and the temperature was perfect.

Both teams scored in the first couple of innings. The score was tied – three to three. Then we waited through a long six-inning drought.

I asked Saffron and Willa what they knew about baseball. My first question was: How many teams are out on the field playing baseball? With an apprehensive tone, Saffron answered, “Five?”

“No, there are only two teams playing tonight,” I confidently responded. “Our team, the Salt Lake Bees, is wearing black shirts and the other team, the New Orleans Zephyrs is wearing blue.”

I could tell I was in good company to explain baseball action. Saffron and Willa knew little if anything about the game. After a few more questions and the girls providing me with guesses, I decided to just explain what happens in the game as it progressed.

I enjoyed having the opportunity of telling the girls about the events occurring on the field. And I was pleased that they thought I was so knowledgeable! I believe they thought Grandpa Swensen knew everything.

I didn’t know that the game would drag on and on for six more innings without a run. There were several hits and a couple of times men were left on base as the teams finished their innings. But the score remained tied.

It was enjoyable to sit with Saffron and Willa. We ate M&Ms like we’d never seen candy before. Ruby occasionally would reach over for some candy when it seemed her parent’s bag was full of grown-up hands. I reminded Saffron and Willa that I remember when they said they didn’t like candy (last Christmas time when they came to our home to make ginger bread houses and decorate them with frosting and candy.) Saffron smiled as if to say, I’ve changed my tastes and I like candy, now.

I suppose Willa got tired of my questions and my not answering her “Why” questions after I would explain what had just happened. She moved to the other end of the row and sat next to Virginia. Today, Virginia told me that Willa asked “Why” after almost everything Virginia told her about the game or any other topic.

The game was tied when we went into the tenth inning. The New Orleans Zephyrs scored two runs. When the Bees came to bat in the bottom of the tenth inning, it appeared the Bees had lost the game. People were leaving but the Swensen family continued to watch.

Two players walked to first. A couple of fly balls were caught. One out, then another. Then Luis Figueroa, a light hitter, came to the plate. With two strikes against him, he connected with a fast ball which skyrocketed out of the park. The crowd went wild with enthusiastic cheering. It was loud and Saffron, Ruby and Willa were asking what happened as the crowd continued to cheer. Figueroa’s home run brought in the two runners who had been walked with the final score now, six to five. The Bees won the game! The coach was quoted in the newspaper this morning, saying, “It was almost divine.”

Monday night was terrific! It was a perfect evening to attend a baseball game and a perfect ending of the game. Together we walked slowly toward our cars not wanting the event and family activity to be finished.

We missed Jasper, but he told Steve on the phone that he had a great time at his first football practice. He said he enjoyed learning about and practicing tackling. Perhaps our next outing could be to a football game.

Standing, Squatting, and Giggling with your Siblings

Jasper and Ruby and Saffron are having a giggle-fest in the kitchen. Saffron has learned to love our teasing ways, and laughs her head off when teased (nice teasing, of course). She's fun to tease, because she's still not sure when it's teasing and when it's truth, or quite how to tease successfully herself.

Just now we were talking about diapers for some reason, and whether we had any. I said, "Well, there are those ones left over from when you first came. I thought you and Willa were babies, so the first couple of weeks I put you in diapers and rocked you in the cradle. But then we noticed you were a little big for a baby. You weren't fitting very well in the baby clothes, and you seemed to be trying to talk to us."

"You also seemed a little too smart for a baby," Jasper added.

Saffron looked at me quizzically at first, searching her memory and asking me if we really did this when she first came. When I grinned she burst into giggles and said. "No you did not! I don't remember that!"

Then amid her giggles, clearly with diapers on the brain, she started telling us a story about her first experience with a western-style toilet. I was about to try to write it the way she said it, but then I thought why not just film it? So here goes:

At the rodeo--proud of her new boots.

Saffron at the Lincoln Cty (WY) Rodeo

Saffron at the Rodeo Tonight

"I'm gonna be a cowgirl when I was big!"

Emily Mabey Swensen

My Dad

Today's email exchange below, between me and my dad, is an example of what I love about my dad. . . .

-----Original Message-----
To: Mabey, Ralph R.
Sent: Thu Jun 24 14:45:48 2010
Subject: Petraeus

Dear Dad,
You remind me of General Petraeus.

Love,
Em

...…................................................

Emily,

Wow.  How come?

Love,

Dad

P.S.  You remind me of Abigail Adams. 

Female Circumcision

I couldn't think of a thing to blog about lately, or bring myself to give up one of my free moments to do it. But tonight I've GOT to: I just got a doozy of a question.

Saffron just asked me, in a round about way, if in America we cut girls between the legs--in other words, do we perform female circumcision as many still do in Ethiopia (Studies in the linked article show that 79% of women in Saffron and Willa's region are circumcised). It's really interesting how questions I thought were previously resolved crop up out of nowhere months later. When we were in Ethiopia, I asked the orphanage doctor and also had our translator ask Saffron if she had been a victim of female circumcision. Both said no, and Saffron acted as if she had no idea what she was being asked (understandable, considering the uncomfortable nature of the question). I had the pediatrician here check for signs of it again when we got to America, and she found absolutely no signs of any trauma. Everything was pristine and intact. So, I put it out of my mind, assuming Saffron's slightly modern dad did not subscribe to such traditional tribal practices.

I haven't thought of it again, until Saffron asked me in the dark tonight as I tucked her in. That's her favorite time to ask difficult questions, and apparently she's been trying to work up the courage to ask this one for a long time. I quickly assured her that, NO!, we absolutely do not do that in America, and that will never happen to her or Willa or anyone they know. Once we put that fear to rest, she relaxed and got chatty about the topic.

She told me she'd wanted to ask me for a while, but thought it was a bad question. I assured her, again, that there are no bad questions to ask your mom (except, maybe, 'can I have more gum' for the fifth time when you've already been told 'NO' four times in a row). She said that in Ethiopia many people, including her father's relatives, believe circumcision (not her word, of course) makes children better behaved. They don't lie or disobey their parents. In fact, she said they believe doing it more makes children more obedient. One boy in her family was cut more than once. (I did explain male circumcision in America to her--not the details, but the reasons why some parents choose to do it, and how quickly and carefully it is done to save the baby pain or infection.)

Saffron believes her mother was circumcised, but doesn't know whether she believed in it for Saffron. Her dad was open to the idea, but perhaps not a firm believer in it. He took her to the 'doctor' once to have it done, but Saffron overheard the doctor's plan and escaped, screaming. Her father did not force her back.

Saffron had a friend, another little girl, who was circumcised. She told Saffron it hurt very bad every time she went to the bathroom. Saffron said she knew of this being done to children of all ages--from babies up to young girls--depending on what the parents wanted. Saffron saw a female circumcision on TV, and possibly in person (it was unclear). She saw a young girl tied down with a strap over her mouth, and several people holding her. Then she saw a 'doctor' cut between the girl's legs. Then she saw a lot of blood. She was horrified.

Willa then added that she gets very messy down there when she pees her pants (WAY too often, and when she's awake!). I was glad to see the conversation hadn't much phased or sunk in with the four-year-old.

Well, that's one more difficult subject faced. I hope Saffron will sleep better knowing she can cross that fear off her list. I'm actually not surprised it came up today. She's been in trouble a few times in the past couple days for lying to me, and cried when she got caught again today. She said she was trying to tell the truth but sometimes she just couldn't be good. I'm sure that got her thinking about how some girls she knew were cut between the legs to help them be good.

I take it as a good sign that Saffron feels more comfortable all of the time telling me things that scare her to say aloud. Right at the six-month mark she told me that she actually did steal the money from a neighbor's shack--the money she said before that she had been wrongly accused of stealing. But all the other facts, and innocence, remain the same. She said Stepmother told her to steal the money from the home where Saffron worked as a servant. Saffron was desperate to feed herself and her siblings, with whom Stepmother usually didn't share food, and did it. Stepmother's friend, who owned the home, then told Saffron's dad. He tied Saffron up and beat her harshly, so much so that even the neighbors pleaded with him to stop.

I felt it was a great show of trust for Saffron to tell me the real story. I then had to work hard for a couple of weeks to convince her that, even though we have said stealing is wrong, she had absolutely no fault in that situation. Stepmother and Dad were in the wrong. When a desperate child is compelled to do wrong by grown-ups she fears, no loving being, human or Divine, would hold her accountable. We've had that talk over and over.

You'd think theft and female circumcision would bowl me over, but those subjects have passed just fine. It's Willa's wide-awake potty regression that's proving more than a match for me.

Never Good Enough

My day probably didn't get the best start anyway, but I'm growing really really weary of Willa's constant complaints and contradictions. I don't seem to do anything right, and apparenty I never keep my word. Right now, as I pump gas, she's complaining that I didn't pack her a big enough lunch, and everyone at preschool gets a better lunch than she does.

You Are My I Love You

It's after midnight and I was in bed, but found myself thinking about my children, and people in general. I had to write it down.

It occurs to me that if you don't allow your children the opportunity to rise to an occasion, then they surely won't. They will fail every time. But if you do allow them, occasions to which they may rise I mean, then they will only fail sometimes. Other times they will rise, and still other times they will exceed the occasion, and your expectations, and even pass you up altogether.

All five of my children have risen to occasions which I doubted they could meet. Thank God above I did not manage to prevent them, underestimate them, or sell them short every time--though sometimes I tried. And I really mean its thanks to Him--He knows these marvelous children much better than I do.

Jasper and Ruby, this is especially a love letter to you. We went through the motions of giving you a choice and a voice in our adoption, but really you had none. Kids don't make their parents' life decisions for them, and shouldn't be asked to. And though this has been extremely difficult for Saffron and Willa in other ways, they have had from the beginning one advantage you did not--the desperate fear of the dark and lonely past they left behind. Because of that past, they have said they never doubted for a day that they would be happier in their new life, and better loved.

You two, on the other hand, had a very happy life with a family you loved. You faced the fear, and expressed it often, that your life would never again be as happy as it had been in the past--that you would have less love than you had in the past, not more. Each of you went through periods of great fear that your life would never feel right or happy again, and that you were completely powerless to change the situation. I agonized over your feelings. I cried in bed at night, trying to remember and rely on the sure feelings that had caused us to pursue this course, and the belief that in time we would all have greater happiness because of it.

At some point along the way, the thought came to me (the Spirit prompted me) that I was underestimating both of you, and your ability to keep trying, overcome change, try to find the joy in your new sisters, trust that your parents still loved you as much, and even nurture a tiny faith that down to road you may one day be happier than ever with your new family.

And you have risen gloriously to the occasion. You have risen above it. You have gotten up and tried again every day to forget feeling displaced and instead make a new place in a home that felt foreign, with a mother who herself probably seemed foreign and unsteady sometimes. You have included. You have encouraged and complimented. You have apologized. You have forgiven (your sisters and your parents). And, you have shared your mom. You have moved over to let someone else sit by mom--to let someone else have a goodnight cuddle. What a very hard thing for a frightened child to do! And for all of those things, for what I have seen in the two of you, I now love you more than ever before--more than feels possible. I love you not only as my children, but as wise old souls who have weathered a difficult storm and kept me safe in the process. Just like your sisters, you are now loved even better than you were in your past life. And that, my gems, is one of the many blessings I am beginning to see unfold: the new happinesses of our new family. I see you both feeling comfortable again--feeling right in your family. And happy.

I hope you two also see the change in yourselves. I hope you feel a greater sense of self worth and courage for life ahead because you have already faced a great fear, a mighty change, and risen to the occasion. After taking in stride the death of a baby brother and the "birth" of two child-sized new sisters within two short years of your young lives, I can't imagine either of you facing the giants of life without coming off conqueror.

I have a feeling that when the four of you are grown, you, Jasper and Ruby, will look with awe at what Saffron and Willa went through to join our family. I have no doubt that they will look back at you in awe of what you went through to let them in.

If I doubted you, I stand corrected. For the rest of your lives let me stand aside and let you rise: marvelous risers to magnificent occasions.

I love you,
Mom