Tonight is THE night.

Wednesday is finally here. It may be 5:30 in the morning and I haven't slept all night, but it's here. Tonight is our second court date for Eli. Somewhere in Addis Ababa, thousands of miles away, his name is on a file that a judge will open. In a court proceeding that takes about 10 minutes, a judge will decide if Eli is our son. I'm sure that the reason I can't sleep is because I KNOW he's already our son. When I'm asked, I proudly tell people that I have 3 children. Kai, at 5 years old, does the same thing and tells people that he has 2 brothers. I love hearing him say that. In our hearts, we are already a family. It's the waiting for this unknown stranger to put his rubber stamp of approval on our file that is scary and frustrating.

I'm not at all worried that it won't happen eventually, but patience is hard to come by. And I worry. I worry that he may feel lonely. I worry that he may be afraid. I worry that he misses his mother and father, and there is no one to comfort him. Does he have enough to eat? Is he warm enough at night? Does anyone comfort him when he falls and bonks his knee? Does he know that his current situation is NOT his life? Is he sad? Does anyone tell him that he is loved before he goes to bed?

Eli, my son, we are coming for you, and I know it will be soon. I want to tell him to just hang on and know that we are coming. I can't even imagine how he must feel as he watches other families come and take their babies home from the orphanage. Everyone tells me that he is happy and joyous; mischievous and curious; loving and smiley. I hope with all my heart that that is true. I want to tell him that soon -- very soon -- he will come home to us, to his new house, his excited brothers, his own clean, warm bed, warm bubble baths, and snuggles on demand. I want to give him something to look forward to.

Every night, I go and check on my boys while they are sleeping. Kai and I have a standing snuggle date at 10:30pm every night. He rarely wakes up and, if I'm lucky, he will mumble his love for me in his sleep after I've straightened his covers and flipped his pillow over to "the cold side". It's what I live for. Ian is always without covers no matter how many times I've pulled them up over him. He needs to be cool as he sleeps. Yet I still go in, move him into a comfortable position, arrange his stuffed animals neatly next to him, and pull the sheet up to cover the coolness of his sweet, strong little arms. I kiss his perfect little cheek and marvel at how he looks just like my brother.

Every night it is the same. Every night I stroke my boys' hair, kiss their beautiful faces, smell their sleeping breath, and watch their chests go up and down in wonder. Every night before I leave them be, I whisper the same thing in their sleeping ears, hoping they hear it and learn it as fact: "I love you so much. You are my greatest joy, my most amazing work of art. You will change the world one day, like you've already changed mine. Thank you for picking me as your Mommy."

Soon Eli Shimeles, soon.