The other day when my husband and I were preparing to head off on our get-away, our new kids were noticeably antsy. First of all, they didn’t seem familiar with the idea of parents taking off and doing something alone. We have gone on three or four dates since they got home. But this overnight thing was puzzling to them, and despite their excitement over a planned sleepover at Grandma's, they were also concerned.

Our teenaged daughter tried to help us reassure them that we'd be home soon and that they’d be fine in the meantime. She reminded them that we’d been away from the rest of the kids for more than a week when we went to Ethiopia to get them this summer. But still they were off-balance and cranky. “Why? Why go?” they asked.

I explained to them that sometimes parents need a little time to themselves, and promised that we WOULD be back. But even as the words were leaving my mouth, there were pictures in my mind of the other people in their short lives who may have good-heartedly promised that they wouldn’t leave them alone. That they WOULD be back. And then they weren’t able to keep those promises. And I wondered about the wisdom of making them promises. They knew as well as I did that things don't always turn out as you plan.

All kids can stress a little when parents take off. But kids who have already lost one set of parents have more reason than most kids to feel truly fearful, and to question their new parents’ ability to keep their promises.

I hope that as our girls gain comfort here, their fears will lessen and trust will grow. Someday they will know me well enough to trust that if there is a way on earth to get back to my children, I always will. And yet I know from losing my own father that the loss of a parent shakes a person, makes them more aware of the fragility of life.

And so I will hug and hold and reassure my kids. I will try to prove with my every action that I have their best interests at heart. I will hug them joyfully each time I return, rejoicing that I've been able to make one more memory in their hearts of a parent who came back. And yet I will also understand just why fear sometimes lurks in their eyes.