by Wade, Ellie
The baby looks to London’s face and then to her outspread arms a few times—back and forth—as she decides upon her response. After a beat, she crawls forward, rests on her knees, and holds out her arms toward London. London slowly takes her into her arms, setting the baby on her lap.
“Hi.” London grins toward the baby as the little girl touches London’s cheek in awe. “I love you.”
I’m completely memorized as I watch the two of them, each equally fascinated by the other.
“I couldn’t leave you because I love you too much,” London tells her.
The baby continues to explore London’s face with her hands. She reaches out to feel London’s hair.
“Do you remember what that’s called? Hair.”
London touches the baby’s face and kisses her cheek. An evident connection exists between them. It’s pure, sweet, and very beautiful.
I’ve always thought London is the most gorgeous woman in the world. Seeing her now, holding this baby on her lap, exuding immense joy, it seems impossible, but she’s even more beautiful. In fact, the sight of the two of them together makes my chest ache.
I’ve yet to interact with the baby, and the feeling is already there. I have an innate desire to love and protect the two girls in front of me with everything I have. I understand what London sees in this child. She’s special, and she holds a beauty beyond measure.
My heart rate increases. With each beat, it fills with anxiety, fear, and immense love. This must be what being a parent feels like.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when London says, “I want you to meet your daddy.” She reaches out for my hand and pulls me closer to the bed. “Baby girl, this is your daddy. And you’re lucky because he’s the best daddy in the whole world. You’re going to be very loved.”
I kneel down to their level and hold out my hand. The baby cautiously looks at it, and when she decides it holds no threat, she runs her soft hand over mine. After a few breaths, she squeezes her fingers around mine and holds on.
“Hi,” I say to her. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m so glad to meet you.”
“Do you see it?” London asks me.
“I do.”
“Don’t you just love her?”
“I do,” I answer honestly.
We spend the next hour talking to our daughter before Dr. Gyasi tells us it’s time to go. The sun is setting, and they have to lock up the hospital. He tells us that danger comes in at night and that we should head back to our hotel as well.
Before going to our hotel, we stop off at the beach. The sun is setting behind us, but the water is still calming as it splashes onto the sand. We sit in the sand and watch the water, silent for a moment as we each gather our thoughts from the day.
“I know what I want to name her,” London says.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. So, we want her first name to have a geographical meaning, like ours…right? So, what about Lindi? It’s a cute name. It’s where we found her.”
“I like that.”
“Then, for her middle name, I was thinking Blue, like her eyes and the ocean bordering her birthplace.”
“Lindi Blue Berkeley,” I say. “Lindi Blue. I think it’s perfect.”
“Right? I think it’s perfect for her, too. She looks like a Lindi,” London says with excitement.
Immediately, I feel her body language change.
“Loïc, I’ll die if we don’t get her.”
I pull her closer to my side, and she leans her head on my arm.
“We’ll get her.”
“So many things can go wrong.”
“They won’t,” I reassure her.
“We’re going to get her, right?” London’s worried eyes peer up to mine.
I smile. “She’s already ours. It’s just a matter of paperwork and travel documents now. That stuff takes time. But we’re not leaving here without our girl. Okay?”
“Okay.” She nods. “I just love her so much.”
“I know. I do, too.”
The next day, London and I rise early and get ready to go to the hospital. London has a suitcase full of stuff that she wants to deliver to the patients there, who are predominantly children. She instructed me to bring clothes, stuffed animals, games, and some basic first aid medicines and bandages.
“Did I tell you that, when I first saw Lindi, she was clutching a dirty plastic water bottle like it was a baby doll?”
I shake my head.
“Yeah, that’s why I gave her the bracelets. It was all I had on me at the time. But these kids have nothing. I mean, Lindi’s comfort item was a piece of trash. That’s not right. They should all have at least one toy that they can love and cherish.”
As soon as we enter the hospital, Lindi starts flapping her arms with a wide smile on her face. London and I rush over to her and give her hugs. London leaves me with Lindi while she passes out the contents of the suitcase to the children.
The children are all smiles and giggles as they hug their toys. The sight actually makes me a little sick to my stomach as I imagine the lives these little humans have lived up to this point and the horrors that face them in their futures. It’s not right that anyone has to live a life full of such terror.
London hands out clothes to the older children and adults. Every person also gets a wide-brimmed sun hat and sunscreen. I know she plans to leave Dr. Gyasi a sizable donation for the hospital and money for all the patients to help them when they leave here. It won’t be enough for them to live off of forever, but it will last them a good year while they try to find work.
I see London talking to Dr. Gyasi, and he looks worried. He nods, and London walks back toward Lindi and me.
“Well, he’s anxious about it, but Dr. Gyasi says we can take Lindi out of here for a couple of hours.”
“‘I’m sure your donation to the hospital helped.” I chuckle.
“No, he trusts me. He’s just afraid that something will happen. But I assured him that we’d be super careful.” Lindi reaches for London. “One minute, baby girl. Let Mommy get you protected from the sun.”
London puts Lindi in a white dress made of light fabric and long sleeves. Then, she places a sun hat on her head. “We can’t let the sun hurt your skin.”
We stop at the market to pick up some fruits, vegetables, and other healthy snacks for Lindi. She’s not had access to the healthiest of diets in the hospital. We take her to our hotel room.
First thing, London takes off the piece of fabric that was acting as a diaper for Lindi. “Oh, sweet girl. Your bum is all sore. Don’t you worry. We’re going to get you a bath. Then, we’re going to put some medicine on your bottom that will help all of the ouchies go away. We bought you some real diapers that won’t hold the wetness against your skin anymore, so you shouldn’t have any more boo-boos on your butt. Okay? We’re going to take care of you. I promise, you won’t be hurt or hungry or dirty anymore. We’ll see you every day, and soon, you’ll be able to come home with us. Okay?”
I’m almost positive that Lindi doesn’t understand English, as she came from a Swahili-speaking home, but she stares intently into London’s eyes as she speaks. So many emotions flash through Lindi’s eyes, as if she’s soaking in every word. I suppose she doesn’t have to understand the words to feel the love in everything London says.
We have a perfect day. We spend time with our girl. We read stories and play peekaboo. She giggles.
When we take her back to the hospital, she is clean, dry, well fed, and happy. Our hearts are full.
The next several months will consist of more of the same mixed in with phone calls to our lawyers. It will be a long process, but I can’t complain. I have my wife and my daughter here with me. There’s not much else I need.
Once we’re back at the hotel, I lie in bed with London, tightly wrapping my arms around her middle and pulling her close to me. My lips find hers, and I kiss her hard, unable to ever get enough of her.
We kiss for what seems lik
e hours. Her breath mixes with mine, and my lips numb until I don’t know where I end and she begins. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter because everything I am is hers anyway.
The depth of what I feel for her can’t possibly be described. My love for London is infinite, yet it manages to grow deeper every day. She’s my reason for everything. Through her, I’ve found life. She’s shown me my purpose. She’s loved me unconditionally. And, now, she’s given me a daughter.
I know that the darkness of infertility is behind us. I can feel the change in London. I knew she was different the moment I saw her in the airport.
Finally, I pull my lips from hers and simply hold her. “Thanks for coming back to me,” I whisper.
“Thanks for loving me until I did.”
“I love you—always.”
From as early as I can remember, I wanted to go to the magical place named London. My entire life, I saw the city, an ocean away, as my safe place. All would be well when I reached it. I would finally be happy. I would finally know what it felt like not to be in pain. I would be loved. I wouldn’t hurt anymore. I still can’t believe that my safe place, my sanctuary, my heaven on earth, found me. Bikini-clad and obnoxious at a car wash, she found me.
Even as a young boy, I knew that I needed London. And I was right.
Wherever she is will forever be home. She’ll always be my happy place.
My London.
Eternally.
London
“I thought I was happy before, but this—a world with Loïc by my side and the most beautiful human in the world as my daughter—is true happiness.”
—London Berkeley
I pull out my phone to take a picture of the tree. I wish Loïc were here to see it. He should be home any minute.
We’ve only been home a week, and he’s been gone for most of it. He has a lot to catch up on—new soldiers to meet, previous ones to check up on. I’m sure a lot happened while he was gone for five and a half months. He has great people working for the nonprofit we set up to help veterans with PTSD, but I know he feels like he needs to make up for being gone for so long.
Lindi places another ornament on a bottom branch, and I laugh. The entire Christmas tree is empty besides the bottom row of branches that have about sixty ornaments dangling from them. It’s the funniest thing, and I’m going to keep it just as it is.
“Good job, Lin!” I say as I snap another picture.
Lindi’s beautiful smile shines back at me. My daughter smiles constantly, and it’s the sweetest.
My daughter.
I can finally say that without fear that she’ll be taken from me. I can finally say it with nothing but gratitude in my heart. We’re home. She’s ours. Nothing can change that now.
I swear, my heart hovered on the outside of my chest every day while we were in Africa. I was terrified that something would go wrong, that she would be taken, that something in the process would fall through, and we’d lose her. I don’t know how I would have come back from that. I’m so happy that I don’t ever have to find out.
According to my lawyers, the adoption went smoother than any adoption they’d worked on. They said it was completed in record time.
Lindi places a Santa ornament on a bottom branch that is already occupied by six other dangling pieces. She looks to me, wide-eyed and happy. She claps for herself with the biggest grin.
“Yay!” I clap with her.
“Loo, Ma.” She points to her masterpiece. To anyone else, her words might sound like gibberish, but I know she’s saying, Look, Mom.
She’s actually an amazing communicator for her age. I could tell she started to understand English early on. No one in Africa really knew her age, but they guessed that she was born in May of the previous year. So, we picked May 16 as the date to put on her birth certificate. Sixteen has always been one of my favorite numbers, and Lindi is definitely my favorite person in the world. That makes her nineteen months old now.
“I see it.” I nod. “You’re doing a great job. So pretty! Are you ready to put the presents under the tree?” I point to the pile of brightly wrapped boxes.
“Yeah!” She grins, running over to the presents.
I don’t think she has any idea what Christmas means or understands why we’re putting decorations on a tree that’s indoors. I’m sure she doesn’t get why these pretty boxes go under the tree or that they hold treasures inside. But she will. She’s faced everything she’s been through with courage and a smile. She’s never fussed, even during the two days of travel back to the States. I’m in awe of her really. This little girl has more spirit than I will ever have.
She’s going to change the world someday. She’s already completely transformed mine.
I help Lindi place the presents under the tree. When we’re finished, I hold her on my hip as we stand back and admire the twinkling lights through the evergreen’s branches.
“Pretty?” I ask her. “Wait until tonight when it’s dark. The lights will twinkle like stars.”
Lindi rests her head against my shoulder and yawns.
“Ready for naptime, baby girl?” I carry her into her room.
I had designers come in and transform her room into what I call Safari Princess while we were still in Tanzania, so it was ready for her homecoming. She seemed to love it, but she loves everything. It was important for me to incorporate parts of her native country into this space. I want her to always be proud of who she is and where she came from. Loïc and I both agree that it’s important, and we’re going to try our best to teach her about her culture. Ideally, we’d take her back to Africa to visit as she grew up, but it’s not safe for her. I’m hoping the conditions will eventually change so that, someday, she can go visit her beautiful country without fear.
I lay Lindi in her bed. I kiss her forehead and then each cheek before kissing her lips. It’s something I started doing at the beginning, and I think she finds comfort in the routine.
“You rest, sweet girl. When you wake up, Mommy will be here for you, okay? You are safe. We’re going to have a fun night, so it’s good that you’re resting up.”
I kiss her again before saying, “Mimi upendo daima.” Translated from Swahili, it means, I will love you always.
“Mi oo da,” she mimics.
I pick up the explosion of Christmas decorations in the living room while listening to Mariah Carey’s Christmas CD. It’s a classic. I remember dancing around the Christmas tree with Georgia when we were young, the two of us belting out the lyrics to, “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
I start the preparations for tonight. Loïc and I have been doing the same thing for Christmas for the past few years. So, we’ve decided to make it our family tradition. I didn’t have a lot of traditions growing up, as we were always somewhere new each year for the holidays. Loïc didn’t have any because of his situation with foster homes. Traditions are something we both desire for our future. Something about them brings a sense of security and home—a feeling of forever. They’re comforting.
The first one is that, on Christmas Eve, we eat only finger foods—appetizer heaven—and we drink punch. This tradition might have started due to my lack of cooking abilities and the fact that Loïc was working on our first Christmas Eve together. So, I prepared what I could. I bought a fruit and veggie plate, crackers and cheese, cocktail shrimp, meatballs, and lots of dips. The store really has an awesome selection of premade appetizers.
We attend a local church’s Christmas Eve service. Then, we come home and eat with our fingers and open all of our presents. The only things we open on Christmas morning are our stockings with the small gifts inside them and our main present, which is from Santa.
My family made other plans for the holidays because no one really knew if we’d make it home in time. So, my parents are spending Christmas in Paris, and Georgia is running a soup kitchen in Detroit. It works out because, honestly, I’m looking forward to spending this time with just Loïc and Lindi. I don’t want to share her yet.
We’re hosting a get-together for our family and close friends on New Year’s, so everyone can meet Lindi. That gives her a couple of weeks to get accustomed to her new surroundings before she’s introduced to new faces.
“Hey, beautiful.” Loïc wraps his arms around me from behind as I make the cheese tray, also known as removing the plastic wrap from the already prepared tray.
I turn to face him and drape my arms over his shoulders. He bends down and kisses me.
“Baby girl napping?” he asks when his lips pull away from mine.
“Yes. Oh my gosh…you have to see the tree. She decorated it all by herself.” I take Loïc’s hand and lead him to the living room.
He chuckles when he sees the tree. “That’s priceless.”
“I know. I snapped about five hundred pictures of it.”
“I thought we weren’t going to spoil her?” he asks with a smirk.
I look at the mountain of presents that surround the Christmas tree. “I know. I couldn’t help it. I’m flawed. You still love me?”
Loïc takes me in his arms and dips me. I let out a squeal. He lifts me back up and spins me before we start to dance slowly.
“You know I do,” he answers, holding me close.
“You know I’m going to struggle with not spoiling her throughout her entire life, right?” I ask him.
“I know.” He grins and kisses my forehead.
“It’s hard. I just want her to have everything. I want her to be so happy.”
“She will be happy,” he reassures me.
“I have a feeling that I’m going to change my parenting style a good eighty times throughout the next seventeen or so years. I’m kind of fickle that way.”
Loïc chuckles. “I have no doubt.”
“I want her to feel so loved, never want for anything, and still turn out to be a great person, like you. Do you think that’s possible?”
“You know material things don’t equate to love, right? That’s not what kids need to be happy.”
“I know.” I nod. “But she’s still a baby. She’s not going to remember this anyway. It’s our first Christmas with her. I had to spoil her. I promise, I’ll tone it down some next year.”