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.”
“Okay,” Loïc says with a scoff.
“I will.” I narrow my eyes toward him. “You don’t believe me?”
“Sure, I do.”
I grin up to him. “No, you don’t. But that’s okay.”
I rest my cheek against Loïc’s chest, and we slow dance. I listen to his heart beating against his chest, and a warm blanket of awe covers me. 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.
I really concentrate on the sensation that engulfs me. I want to truly experience it and remember it always because this is what I’ve been fighting for. This is life. My happily ever after.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
I send out into the universe. I still don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I’m so very grateful to have found it.
“Do you love your babies?” I ask Lindi.
She hugs her two baby dolls in her arms with a wondrous smile upon her face.
“Baba,” she says.
“Yes, babies, and they’re yours. Lindi’s babies.”
I knew she was at the age for her first baby doll. I couldn’t decide between the light-skinned baby or the dark-skinned one. Obviously, Lindi has very pale skin. Yet that doesn’t change the fact that she’s African. Her birth parents and siblings had dark skin. I want her to love everything about herself, so I decided on getting both. I’m so glad I did because the smile on her face is priceless.
She plops down on the floor and lays her babies out in front of her, admiring them. Her chubby little fingers trace the baby dolls’ eyes and round heads.
“Lindi, do you want to open more presents?”
“Baba,” she says in response, not taking her eyes off the dolls.
Loïc laughs. “All these presents, and she’s done after the first one.”
“There’s plenty of time for her to open the rest later.” I nudge Loïc’s knee.
“Well, I have one that I’d like you to open,” he says to me.
“Yay!” I sit back on the couch as he brings over a very large, rectangular box. “Ooh, it’s a big one, too.”
“It’s my favorite one,” he says.
I rip the paper from the gift and open the box. I pull out a large frame, and then I freeze. My breath gets caught in my throat. Tears roll down my face and fall into my lap. My heart expands. I suck in a giant breath of air.
“Oh, Loïc,” I say through tears, my voice cracking.
Loïc sits next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“This is the moment…this is…when…I knew,” I choke out, overcome with emotion.
In my lap sits a large canvas of me and Lindi, the very first time I met her. We’re gazing into each other’s eyes. She’s holding her water bottle and staring at me with a look of wonder. I’m looking at her with a genuine smile and so much love in my expression. I fell completely in love with her then.
She was my love at first sight.
“How?” I ask, unable to pull my gaze from one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.
“Well, you’re always talking about your friend Oliver, the photographer. So, I got on your Facebook to find his full name, and then I messaged him. He sent me dozens of pictures of the first time you met Lindi. This one is my favorite. The emotional connection is palpable. It took my breath away when I saw it.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
“It is.”
“Thank you so much, Loïc. This is the best present you’ve ever given me. I love it so much. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Thank Oliver for taking such gorgeous pictures.”
“I forgot he even took pictures that day. It completely slipped my mind. I want to see the rest.”
Loïc gets off the couch to grab another present for me. This one is a much smaller box than the first. I set the canvas down and rip the wrapping paper off as fast as I can.
“Scrapbooks?” I gasp.
I quickly flip through the pages of the first book to see so many pictures of the first time I met Lindi. The entire book chronicles our initial meeting with breathtaking visuals. The second book is much thicker and contains pictures from my entire trip. All of the incredible people I met and spoke to—people who changed my life forever—are smiling up at me from the pages. The books bring some many emotions to the surface, and all I can do is cry, full of gratitude for that trip.
“I can’t believe you made scrapbooks,” I say after a bit.
Loïc chuckles. “Well, you can thank Paige for that. She put them together for me on some site. I just ordered them.”
“Well, they’re absolutely perfect.”
Lindi is standing in front of me, a look of concern on her face. She touches my knee. “Ma, kye?”
“Yes, baby, Mommy is crying. But these are happy tears. Mommy’s happy.”
“Pee?”
“Yes, happy. Come here.” I pull her onto my lap. “Do you want to see a story all about Mommy and Lindi?”
I open the book, and the three of us look through it. I talk about each picture. Oliver did such a fantastic job of capturing my emotions at the time. I feel like Loïc kind of understands what it was like the first time I met Lindi. That in itself is a gift. I’ll have to call Oliver and tell him how very thankful I am for these images.
Lindi loves looking through the book, pointing out that Mommy and Lin are in every picture.
“We’re going to have to order another one.” I lock eyes with Loïc. “I’m pretty sure this one now belongs to baby girl.”
I kiss the top of Lindi’s head, right between her two puffy pigtails. It’s the only hairstyle that I’ve mastered so far, but it’s by far my favorite anyway.
The three of us sit together on the couch, looking through the Africa books for hours. Lindi listens intently as I tell them about every picture from my entire trip. I talk about each perfect soul I met on my journey. I leave out the gory parts this time around, for Lindi’s sake. Instead, I replace the horrific details with beautiful ones. Each one of these individuals makes the world a better place just by existing. I tell those stories. I talk of their strength, their smiles, their compassion toward others. I gush about the things I loved most about each person.
Lindi especially loves the pictures of the safari and the animals. We teach Lindi how to roar like a lion, and Loïc and I go into fits of laughter at her attempts. It’s quite possibly the cutest thing she’s done yet.
I talk, Loïc asks questions, Lindi roars, and we laugh until Lindi falls asleep against my chest.
I hold my sleeping baby in my arms, and we leave the living room, still bursting with unopened presents.
This evening will go down in the history books as one of the best nights of my life. Breaking tradition turned out to be my favorite gift.