A Letter to My Babies

Dear Babies,

For eight months now I have cared for you. I have fed you when you were hungry, changed you when you were dirty, sat up with you when you were sick, cheered you on as you learned to crawl, walk, say your first words, blow kisses. I laughed with you when you were happy and comforted you when you were sad.

For eight months now, even longer really, even before I came here, I have loved you. I have watched you grow and change, turn from newborns to babies to toddlers. Many of you I have known for most of your life, some of you, all.

I used to sometimes wonder how adoptive parents could love their children so much, when biologically, they weren’t really theirs. I understand now. None of you are flesh of my flesh or bone of my bone, but you will always be the first children of my heart.

All of you have found a place in my heart, but there are some of you who are extra special to me. The ones who I will cry over the most when I leave, the ones who I will talk about, the ones who I will remember all the time and love constantly from far away, the ones who I will miss the most.

Deborah: Your jealousy and neediness infuriates me to no end, but I know I will miss it all the same. Always the first to crawl into my lap, to run for a book, to whine when I won’t pick you up. I will miss your cheeky grin and your happy giggle when I peek through the mosquito net at you.

Esther: You are so sweet, the kindest out of your sisters, the least likely to hit or bite another baby. I do think you are too old to scream for a bottle every night, but you will grow out of that. The way you put your fingers in your mouth and lay your head on my knee is so precious. You cry every time a stranger comes near and someone once said, “Esther doesn’t really love anyone, except Hannah, that is.” I love that you trust me.

Anna: You will always be my “kichaa” girl. Crazy baby. Your eye rolling, mat hitting, funny mannerisms always make me laugh, as does the way you open your mouth so wide for food that I could put the whole bowl in at once. You also don’t like strangers and I remember there was a time that we had to put a towel over your head to calm you down, you were so terrified.

All three of you lovely girls, my triplets, are going to have a wonderful life back in the village with your parents. I’m so glad that you have so many people who want you and love you.

As for Angel and Angelous - you have always been my favourites. I have avoided calling babies “mine” while I was here, because I know none of you are – you belong to your parents or relatives or to the people who will adopt you. But if ever I had children of my heart, it is both of you. I would take you home with me in a second if I could.

Angelous: “Mtoto mtundu.” Naughty child. I doubt this is something that you will grow out of. You were having epic, terrible two style tantrums when you were only 10 months old. You were also the worry baby – hospital stays, viruses, that time that your toe just about fell off it was so infected. If there was a bug going around, then you got it. I will miss so many things about you – your excitement about life, the way you say my name, your laugh, the way you love Anna, your sloppy kisses, how you put your hand on my head and try and say "Marahaba." I’ll even miss the way you scream whenever I leave the room. I will always love you.

Angel: My girl. I love you so much. You are so sweet and good most of the time. I love the way you run to me, arms outstretched, big grin lighting up your face, every time you see me. I love your giggle. Susan once said that you had always been, “a little laughing baby.” I love how whenever you sit on my lap, you pick up my hands and say, “Row, row” so that I will sing to you. I will think about you and miss you every day.

You will all forget me. I will become one of the strangers that you, triplets, have anxiety attacks over, instead of one of your favourite people. Other people will take my place in your hearts. I know you won’t remember me specifically babies, but I will thank God every day that He gave me the opportunity to love you for a short time. What I pray for you is this – that you will remember that you were loved, are loved, always. You will all have a place in my heart forever.

Be happy. Be loved. Be blessed.

Nakupenda sana,

Hannah