How does a mother walk out of the hospital without the child she just birthed?
How long did she wait till she skipped out? Did she hold her?
How long was it before someone else came to the hospital to get Margarita?
How can you give 4 children away or see them but not acknowledge that they exist?
How destroyed are they for the rest of their lives?
These are the questions I ask myself about Margarita’s birth mother. Questions I will never have the answers to because she died.
I have two other friends in Honduras in the same adoption situation as us. The first friend is the reason I have Margarita. She was the director of the home where Margarita first lived. She is adopting a boy who was orphaned because both parents died from AIDS. The second friend is adopting a child who was so severely beaten by his step-father that both legs where broken and she took the child to another country for the operations that he needed. We are all adopting as single women and we are all at different stages of the process. Adoption reform has been talked about for years but it has not happened since I started this process back in 2001.
The judge was supposed to have signed the adoption court sentence this week but it didn’t happen, so we are still waiting as usual.
In February I handed in the initial paperwork to the U.S. Embassy here in Honduras and they took my fingerprints to send to the FBI for clearance. Unfortunately they didn’t send them via DHL like they said they would so they did not reach the FBI till 1.5 months later. Then the FBI said that my fingerprints were “unclassifiable”, meaning too smudged or something. So they re-took them and we are waiting for their response.
Margarita is doing well and spontaneously said three phrases in English last week.
“Tomorrow is Monday.”
“I am ready.”
“Check me out.”
She continues to surprise me at how well she handles situations and how adaptable she is. She is also very compassionate like when I wacked my head on the brick wall the other week, she heard me shout out from the other room and she yelled “I’m coming Mom,” and ran over to me and was rubbing my arm as I cried in pain.
Well please write if you get a sec. I would love to heard from you.
Take care.
Monica
