Yesterday I left off with our referral phone call. I have to go back to that for just a second because you should know I had practiced my reaction to this call during the months of waiting. What else did I have to do? Parent three little boys, you say? Yes, of course! But they went to bed at 7. I still had lots of time left to dig my drama experience out of the crevices of my brain. There would be a gasp. Then an excited “I can’t believe it! She’s finally here. My baby!” Some tears would probably fall, and then I would express my deep gratitude for all our agency had done. If it had only gone as planned. Instead I said something like “Really?” and then asked what her name was before hanging up to go check my email for our referral documents and - most importantly - pictures. It was probably the most awkward referral call our agency director had ever done.
I still struggle to explain what it was like to see her picture for the first time. I could say that I automatically felt a mother-child bond that was too strong to be broken. But I’d be lying. I can tell you, though, that I saw the most beautiful child, and felt incredibly blessed that she was going to be our daughter.
Our agency encouraged adopting families to visit as much as possible before bringing the baby home in order to bond during the newborn stage. We scheduled a visit for the end of July. I gathered a suitcase of baby clothes and items to use while we were there and to give to her foster mom when we left. Yes, I traveled to Guatemala with an entire suitcase loaded for a baby that wasn’t even with us.
Our visit trip was incredible. It’s amazing how big she looked in pictures and how tiny she was in person. I remember the foster mom handing her to me and being overwhelmed. Here was this tiny little person looking back at me. Hearing a new voice, probably wondering what was wrong with this pale skinned person who was blubbering all over her pretty dress. Knowing that she was ours was overwhelming - well, not legally ours. Not yet anyway. Leaving the country - or even just the hotel - with her probably would not have gone well with me. But I knew she was mine.
The week was amazing. Each day, Kyle and I got to know our new daughter a little better. We figured out that she liked to be on the move. Walking around or riding in the stroller was always a hit. She slept on her back with her arms straight up like she was calling a touchdown. We learned quickly that she was not fond of bath time, no matter what her foster mom said, and she never drank more than 2 ounces of a bottle. She could hold her head up like a boss and was incredibly strong, even at five weeks. To this day, I still think she smiled at me one afternoon, although no one was around to witness it. It was precious time that I’m so grateful we had.
Our time in Guatemala flew by. And the day I had been dreading all week finally arrived. We had to hand her back over to the foster mom and go back to the US. It was like ripping my heart out of my body and giving it to a woman I had only seen one other time. We had to trust her to take care of our little girl, not knowing when we would be able to see her again. More than trusting her, though, I cried out to God to take care of Ellie until we could see her again, knowing that He loved her more than I ever could. I cried an ugly cry all morning. I'm sure Kyle had no idea what to do with me.
I did recover in time to fly back home. We knew our paperwork was in Guatemala and had begun the process. We were told it was all up to “chance” as to how long it would be before we could bring Ellie home. We knew it wasn’t chance at all, but God’s timing that would determine when she would be part of our family.
Sleeping in the stroller on our visit trip.
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