The last day

I tried to do this post last night, but it hit me very very hard. I cried uncontrollably for a while, the first time that's happened in several weeks. I'm even crying now and I've barely started the post.

So the Wednesday of my trip, I again woke up and wrote in my journal before Ingrid got up. We then did the bath-and-shower bit before breakfast. By now the waiters at the Marriott all knew Ingrid and brought her booster seat and fruit platter. She also had a fried egg, but didn't want the bread this day. On our way our of the buffet, she asked if we could take a yogurt for later. And then she even remembered that she'll need a spoon for the yogurt, and she knew we didn't have one in the room.

Now Wednesday was the hardest for me. Not only in hindsight is it the last time I got to hug and kiss my little girl forever, but that was the day I knew she understood what was going on. Early in the day she said, "I have to go home today." I told her I'd be back again. Several times during the day she asked me questions herself about what life will be like when I'm her mom.

"Es tu casa aqui?" Is this really your house? No, this is my house when I'm in Guatemala, but my house is in America. We have a nice house in America, in New York. You've seen pictures of our house, of our cat, of our car, and of your room. She asked me questions about the house, she liked that she'll have her own room with a nice big bed, but she absolutely loved that there are three bathrooms in the house. She'll have her very own big bathtub, like in the hotel. Oh how she loved that!

We spent a lot of time that day in the family room. Met some other families, sent some e-mails (Doug had e-mailed me every day even though he knew I probably wouldn't be able to respond), but mostly we just hung out and played. They had a great puppet theater, and I showed Ingrid how to make a puppet show. She loved it when the babies came in so she could do puppet shows for the babies. They also had a little rocking horse, which she had so much fun on! One of my favorite pictures of Ingrid is with her hair flying and she's riding this horse with such gusto. She did a little bit of regression, crawled into my lap a little, referred to her sippy cup as her "pacha" (I know all Guatemama's know what a pacha is, for the rest of you it just means bottle), and she wanted to lay on the baby activity mats. Totally normal regression for a four year old, let alone the fact that she was the only preschooler in the room and the room was mostly for babies. We watched Barney and she sung the song and gave me the hug and kiss.

We had lunch out by the pool. Ingrid did tell me she didn't want to eat in the restaurant because she didn't like the waiters, I think she was a little uncomfortable with the attention they were giving her. (Totally understandable because of her previous life, not just stranger anxiety.) She got chicken fingers again and I got mini-hamburgers, which we both shared each others' food. Angel came over and talked with us for a while, and Ingrid had a lot of fun playing with Angel. (They were making up names for each other. I forgot the names, though. I think one was Pinky Winky but I don't remember the other.)

After lunch (or maybe while we were waiting, I know we were sitting outside) Ingrid asked me how I get to New York. I told her I take a plane there, and since every 10 minutes or so a plane went overhead she asked me if that was the plane I took. (In my heart, I wonder if she remembers me when she sees a plane overhead.) She asked me how the plane is able to fly like that, and at first I told her it was magic, but then I reconsidered because I didn't want to make her worried about getting on a plane so I said maybe it was some kind of big machine and I really didn't know.

The time came to meet the fosters. We were in the family room, and I told Ingrid it was time to go downstairs. She did not want to go. I didn't think much about it at the time, I just thought she wanted to keep playing. We got down to the lobby and Ingrid made up an excuse to go up to our room, I think she wanted a bandaid or some typical kid excuse. The family met us in the room. I stayed with the foster mom in the room to pack while Ingrid went with the rest of the family to play in the family room. I cried, she gave me some of her family recipes (they're in Spanish and I can't totally read everything, so I'll have to spend a lot of time translating things; something I knew I'd treasure for Ingrid but didn't really plan on ever making these dishes), we packed all of Ingrid's new clothes in the suitcase I got for her. I gave all of her shampoo and bath toys, the coloring books and story books, all of the medicines I brought down "just in case," almost everything I had I gave to the family.

When Ingrid left, and I know I won't be able to do this part justice, I kept trying to be strong and not cry in front of Ingrid. I just didn't want to worry her at all about anything. Remember at this point I thought I was done with Family Court and I thought I would get DNA any day now, and I knew that once I had DNA authorization Ingrid would have to see her first mom and that would add to her confusion. I'm totally going to breeze right over this description, because the image in my head is as clear as a movie I've seen a million times. When she was leaving, Ingrid was looking back and forth between me and the foster mother. You could totally see what she was thinking, how she was trying to make sense of everything. She knew both of us as Mami now, using our first names with each other but just Mami to oour faces. It was as if she was happy to go back with the fosters, but she was also sad to leave me. She didn't want to displease either of us with her reaction to us, like she didn't want to hug me too much because it would make the f-mom feel bad, and she didn't want to be too happy to leave me because it would make me feel bad. I'm telling you, this was totally my child the way she was more concerned with people-pleasing than in actually feeling anything herself! Ingrid took her foster dad's hand and walked to the elevator, turning to face me and wave the entire way. She kept blowing kisses and smiling. After the elevator went down, I went out on the balcony because I knew I'd be able to see the car. The family saw me and Ingrid waved and blew more kisses. I watched until the car was out of sight, the whole time my heart in my throat because the family was letting Ingrid basically stand with her body out of the car to wave and blow kisses. And then the tears came. (Haven't really stopped since.)

* * * * * * * * * *
Thursday morning. Breakfast alone. Packed and ready to go. Confirmed my flight. Did all that boring stuff.

After breakfast, though, an incredible thing happened. I know I've talked about this before, and it's hardly at all my story to tell. I was talking to Angel, basically still crying about not having DNA authorization after so long and not knowing when I'd get it (she didn't have it yet either and was having the same problems as me, or so we thought). Tears dripping down my face, tears in her eyes, and this woman comes over to us and asks if we're Stacy and Angel. It was Betsy, who Angel and I had both planned on meeting anyway. It was just such an incredible moment in my adoption process. I had followed both of their stories. I found Betsy's blog early in my process, before I even picked an agency after I changed countries. She hadn't even met Queen Savanna yet, that would be happening soon. Angel and I met on one of the Yahoo groups, both adopting non-babies. I had kept my blog for a few weeks but didn't give out the address, and I remember being so inspired by Angel's first trip to meet Zoe that I started to give out my blog (and I'm so grateful I did). That moment, standing with two other women who knew exactly what I was going through, and myself knowing exactly what they were going through, it still overwhelms me.

After breakfast I tried calling the foster family. No answer. I called again and again for over an hour. Then I called Doug (he wanted me to call collect, but I didn't; I had to get one of those calling cards to call the family anyway). I was telling him all about Ingrid, how the visit had been perfect and nothing like the summer (although it was not easy taking care of a 4-year old, it was better than I expected all around, every little bit of everything until this point). I told him how he's going to absolutely melt when he meets her, how her personality was such that she simply would not allow him to not fall in love with her. Honestly, this child was meant to be my daughter. While I was on the phone with him, I saw Betsy meet Savanna for the first time. I had seen several families meeting their baby over the previous three days, but this one was special. It's another moment I'll always remember.

After about 90 minutes of calling the fosters, no answer and no machine and no nothing, I finally got through. No, they would not be coming to the hotel. She said that she asked Ingrid if she wanted to go to the hotel to say good-bye to me and Ingrid said no. I did talk to Ingrid on the phone. I asked her if there was anything special she wanted me to send her, and she just told me "regalos" (presents). The last present I sent her was in November. (Remember that by November, I already knew Ingrid couldn't be relinquished even though the agency didn't admit it for another month. There was no way I was going to deprive Ingrid of her presents that I promised her! If the agency would let me, I'd STILL send her presents even though I'll never be able to adopt her. But the agency won't answer me, let alone let me DO anything to help a child!) Several things about that phone call bothered me. First, every bit of my visit, every second with Ingrid, everything was perfect. The tiniest hint that Ingrid wasn't happy is a COMPLETE insult to me and to Ingrid. Angel saw us together, everything was GREAT. Second, if Ingrid didn't want to come back to the hotel it's because she didn't want the anxiety she had in leaving the previous day. She was visibly upset by it, even though she didn't say anything. She was confused. Who was her mother? Why can't she stay with me? Is this Mami Stacy's house or not? What's going on? Totally understandable that given the choice, she's not going to pick a repeat of anxiety! Third, this little girl was four years old. Who offers that kind of choice to a four year old? A four year old, any four year old, is going to just read the cues of the adults around them. Fourth, if Ingrid didn't want anything to do with me, if it was a personal thing, then why would Ingrid WANT to talk to me on the phone? Why would she send kisses like that?

I don't look through my Guatemala journal because I know what I wrote after that phone call. I know how I questioned SO MANY things about the visit. SO MANY things about the foster family, who was petrified to talk with me again because of the "attorney." SO MANY things about my process. I don't want to read that journal, because that last entry is FILLED with things I was starting to see. I listed all of the things that the agency told me that turned out to be lies, or not-really-truths. And that was before the DNA Lie! Before I found out the truth about Family Court. Before I knew the POA was never filed. That's when I started to think this adoption was doomed, sitting in the Guatemala City airport surrounded by the smell of Pollo Campero.

One month and one day later I was told I had DNA authorization. Two months and one day later I was told the cedula would be fixed any day. Three months and one day later I was told the b-mom was going to PGN to explain the cedula. Four months to the day later I hired AS. Nine and a half months later (for those people early on who compared an adoption to a pregancy need to take note of THAT) the agency admitted that Ingrid can never be relinquished for adoption. And one year later, the pain is still as real as it was that day.