Waiting

The common theme through this whole experience has been waiting…  It has been good for us, but very challenging as well.  From the day we started this process 18 months ago the main exercise has been waiting.  As things have progressed the waiting has taken on different forms, some more difficult than others.

 Two weeks ago we got the call that it was time to travel.  There was a blizzard that day in Denver, but for u,s all signs pointed towards spring and the coming of Rayne.  As I was booking the tickets for our trip, I opened up the birth certificate to gather some information for the travel agent.  To my surprise, there were some inconsistencies on the document that were disconcerting.  The certificate, a major part of our ability to get Rayne into the states, had my commonly used nickname (Jeeva) instead of my full name (Sanjeevan).  We immediately placed a call to the agency.  

“We think this is an issue.  Is it an issue?”   Their response: “Yes.  It is.”

We spent the next four days waiting for an answer.  For both Rachel and I that four days was the longest four days of our life.  The mistake, it turns out, was made over a year ago, on one single document.  The weekend was spent trying to stay away from worst case scenarios.  Four days later the call came in.  Things were going to work out.  Rach, who had done her weeping on the issue during the weekend was overjoyed.  I who had done my best to avoid any sort of emotion over the four days, wept.  The wait was over... or so we thought.

Our First Hours in Ethiopia

Fast forward to our arrival here in Ethiopia on Thursday.  Getting off the plane in Ethiopia at 10:00 pm, we were greeted with an entry visa line.  Many things here are done the old fashioned way -- the “old fashioned way” being “slow.”  Writing up an entry visa is no different.  Three different people are needed to write up four different forms.  The second is unable to advance until the first one is done... and so on.  A process that should take thirty seconds actually takes about five minutes once you get to the front of the line.  Waiting...

Next up was the immigration line.  Regardless of your marriage status, everyone goes up one at a time.  The process is anything but efficient.  More waiting...  

Once clearing customs we went to gather our bags.  Luggage retrieval, here in Addis Ababa, is an interesting process.  As we walked up to the belt we immediately found two of our three bags.  And then we waited.  The carousel kept cycling around, but it was so packed that there was no room for another bag to make it’s way onto the belt.  As many of our fellow passengers were stuck in either the visa line or the immigration line, things didn’t change for the better part of thirty minutes.  Strangely, the airport people had resolved that it is better to let the belt cycle around jam packed, than to pull the existing bags off of the belt and place the bags in an area clearly designed for such things.  I peered through the entry to the baggage claim to see three guys sitting on the baggage cart waiting to put bags on the belt only as space freed up.  More waiting….  

After about fifteen minutes into our process, I sensed that our third bag may not be coming.  A man with a list was walking around having a conversation with an elderly French lady.  Her bag was on the list and her bag is lost.  I peer over the man’s shoulder at the list and at the bottom of the list I saw my name.  

“That’s my name,” I said. 

He looked at me, looked at my bag tag and said, “Your bag is in Amsterdam.” 

“When will it arrive?” I hesitantly responded. 

“Saturday, on the next flight in.”

“That’s two days from now!”  I dumbly responded.

As I write this blog post, I’m sitting in the same t-shirt and sweatpants I wore when I left Denver on Wednesday morning... my last clean pair of underwear, as well.

Rachel and Rayne’s stuff is, thankfully, here.  My stuff?  In Amsterdam.  More waiting…..

BUT, as I write this blog at 4 am on Saturday morning, I’m happy to report that our wait to meet Rayne has come and gone.  I will go on record as saying it was ALL worth the wait.  All 18 months of it.  I am a daddy of a little girl.  Amazing!  

Rach is going to write a little bit about our meeting with her and I am going to go and figure out how to weather my fourth day in the same clothes.  To be truthful, I don’t really care.  I get to see my daughter again in another 5 hours.  I can’t... wait.