Hope She Knows

Gomah and Kuker are semi-orphans.  Kanda is their mother.  She continues to live in Liberia.  She made a decision to surrender her children for adoption to save them.  They were starving.  Scattered from a war.  Living in the forest to protect them from dying in their village.  Gomah had malaria.  Their family was destroyed.  They had a home, a garden, a village that was burned, taken and destroyed.  War does that.  War takes the thriving and leaves it barren. War takes a home and makes it a playground for terror.  Kanda made a decision I cannot fathom.  My family is whole  because hers was broken. I do not pray but there is not a day that goes by I do not hope she has found relief.  Various circumstances allowed us to get a cell phone to her and periodically the children get to speak with her.  Talking with her settled them in a way I was unable.  As time goes on, the kids have lost their native language, Kpelle, and speak Americanized English.  Kanda does not.  The conversations have become frustrating. The kids repeating "What?  What are you saying? I don't understand what you are saying?".
Words fall short in describing the way my heart aches for Kanda trying to connect with her children.  She is unable to reach them in the ways she did when they were young.  She is unable to touch them, look in their eyes, hear their laughter and her words are lost over a delayed phone connection.  I wonder how I would move forward if the situation was reversed.  If she had adopted Kennedy and Ben.  If Kennedy and Ben had lost their American language.  Words I had used to comfort them as babies no longer having the same affect.  The truth is I cannot go there.  I cannot allow myself to really feel what it would feel like.  I cannot bear for a moment what is her everyday reality.  I cannot bear the "what ifs" of Gomah and Kuker not coming to us. What if there had not been a war?  What if their father was still a father? I hate so much loss had to occur in order for our children to become our children.  I hate that when they speak to their African mother they are becoming more frustrated than calmed.
The last conversation occurred about three weeks ago.  After much struggling to communicate with her mother, Gomah looked at me and said, "Mom...I can't understand her.".  I suggested Gomah tell her that she loved her and she was fine.  If I were Kanda that is what I would most want to know.  Gomah did and Kanda stated she understood.  My hope is language is bigger than the words transporting it.  My hope is that Kanda knows, by the sound of Gomah and Kuker's voice, they are healthy, happy and strong.  My hope is Gomah and Kuker know their mother is okay in those garbled conversations.  My hope is the action of calling is bigger than the words spoken. She is surviving.  She is reaching out.  She is alive. In my kid's world, just knowing someone is alive is comfort. 
When others hear we have adopted from Africa it is usually accompanied by the phrase "what lucky kids".  The phrase makes me want to scream.  Lori and I are the lucky ones.  We get to look into their eyes, hear their laughter, watch them grow and talk freely with them.  Luck does not come without a price. The price Kanda paid was losing her children with no promise of ever seeing them again.  In her world, just knowing they are alive is comfort. Yes, we had loss that brought us to adoption, but in the end our family is whole.  Our family is complete. Kanda made a decision to send her children to a place she believed they would be fed, educated, loved and kept safe.  No mother should ever have to separate from her children to ensure primal needs for safety, food and clean water are met. Ever.
I feel like I have received a gift I am not worthy of.  The kids are not the lucky ones.  They have endured much.  I am the lucky one.  Lori is lucky.  Kennedy and Ben are lucky.  Anyone who has ever met my kids is lucky.  I try and honor Kanda in how Gomah and Kuker are raised.  When praise is given to Gomah and Kuker, I know she is proud and I tell them.  When correction is required, I know she shares my disappointment and I tell them.  I try and co parent with her.  Her praise and disappointment in how Gomah and Kuker are raised matters to me.  I hope she knows we honor her even though words cannot communicate that even if language was not a barrier.  I hope she know how much her children love her and remember her even though Kpelle is lost.  I hope she knows her sacrifice is not lost.  I hope one day she is reunited with the children we raised together.  In the meantime, I hope language is bigger than words and dialect.  I hope she has peace in all things troubling.  I hope she knows....words suck...I hope she knows.