6/29/07
The alarm was set for 6:15, but I was awake from 5:45 on...The sun was already burning through our sheer curtains. I think that it was less about the abundant light and more about my apprehension of trusting a hotel alarm clock! Still, Jen was oblivious to the world. Throughout the days up to the trip and now through the trip, Jen had been blessed with the ability to sleep on demand. Once again we were treated to a complimentary breakfast at Las Vistas. This time Jen was braver in eating the fruit and indulging in the other offerings. I was digging into the pineapple, and the huevos rancheros. We could never leave a meal at the hotel without Jen introducing herself to a family with a little baby, as she scrapped for every adoption story in the hotel, and this meal was no different. This time, however, this single gal was not a parent at all, simply an “escort” that would take the baby back to the states for the family. What a treat that family was missing out on! Paying someone else to take in the experience of Guatemala seemed like a waste of money! I guess good parents come in all different shapes, sizes, and approaches. We then left the restaurant to once again attempt to call home. Jen was beginning to get frantic as the last 3-4 attempts had only reached her mother’s voice mail. I, being the man, was not worried, but what do I know? She tried her Dad’s number and caught Greg on his way to the bait shop. Indeed all was as it should be. The kids were fine and all was well. This brought a nice sense of relief before we headed to the orphanage once again.
This morning, we were earlier than Abel, as we sat on a bench waiting for the AGCI van to arrive. Abel prided himself on the fact that if he was to pick us up at 8:30, that he would be there at 8:20! “Abel time!” he would boast. As he hoped out of the van, he would always holler “Hey, Amigos!”. He was a great way to start the day. As he started toward the Westin for the other family, he began to attribute his driving “prowess” to his years as an ambulance driver and taxi driver. He then explained that the ambulances had different colors of lights (Green, Yellow, and Red) to indicate the type of emergency that the ambulance was responding to. He then related the colors to how much effort that the drivers would make to get out of the way. The lesson I took from that conversation is to never take a ride in a Guatemalan ambulance…it would certainly be your last.
As we got closer to the Westin, Jen commented on the visible presence of La Policia on every corner. Abel piped up, “Yeah, Putin is here.”. Not only was the Olympic Committee in the city to make final decisions on the 2014 Winter Olympic location, but Vladimir Putin was there to advocate for the Russian location. We joked that with all of the heightened security, this would be a perfect day for some American tourists to explore the city. I could sense that Jen was already planning out stretching the distance of our previous days trek. We picked up the other family and we were on our way.
All of us commented on how the drive this time seemed so much shorter. I don’t know if that was a sign of anticipation or familiarity, but we all made the same observation. As we pulled in and unloaded, Abel simply told us to go get our babies. We felt like we were getting away with something going straight from the van to the baby rooms…we felt like we were maybe getting too comfortable with our surroundings. I guess that is what made the orphanage experience different than we expected. It was run more like a HOME and not an OFFICE or business. Yes, we had been given an agenda with times and appointments, but it was hardly etched in stone. Perhaps that is more the Guatemalan culture showing through, or maybe that is the kind of atmosphere that they were shooting for…structure, but flexibility for “life” to happen. As we went to pick up our little bundle, Ana was in the process of being dressed following a bath. Jen seized the opportunity to relieve the Special Mother who was dressing Ana, and get yet another outfit from the purse to dress her up in. Jen had all of these cutesy outfits that she had for a newborn and so little time to use them all! It was an exciting challenge for her to maximize the collection of clothes that she had fit in a single zip lock storage bag.
As we arrived back in the visiting room of the main house, Ashley shared that she had found a Guatemalan soccer jersey for Joel, as I had requested the day before. I got the sense that she liked bartering with some of the local merchants. When she offered to find one on Thursday, she asked for twenty dollars to cover the cost of the shirt. As she brought the shirt from her car, she gave me the twenty back. It had only cost her 50 quetzales, the equivalent of $6.67. She then apologized for getting it a size larger than we had requested. “The guy handed me a medium and I had to get out of there because a cop had tooted his siren at me from behind. So I had to get out of there.” I looked at her with a bit of confusion and concern, what had she done to get us a simple shirt? She went on to explain that she had bought it from a street side vendor from her car. She went down the street where you can get all kinds of “bootlegged” stuff, and a policeman wanted her to stop holding up traffic to do business. She then apologized for the size and offered to take it and exchange it later in the day. I assured her that the shirt would be fine and that my son would love to know the story behind the jersey that he had requested. In the short time that we had known Ashley, this was the kind of Robin Hood-like favors she loved to do.
Next was Ana’s formal medical exam with Dr. Castro. What a charismatic gentleman he is. With the charge of caring for all of the children there, he is also working on educational programs for the Special Mothers there in the orphanage, the mothers in the Promise of Life program, as well as the mothers that Ashley comes in contact with in her outreach ministries. Jen and I began pressing him for things that we could find/bring to help him in his efforts. He was reluctant to share his desires saying that we were already doing so much. But we wanted to do more. A laptop and projector would allow him to take his presentations “on the road” more effectively. We pressed for more. He changed the subject and re-directed us to Ana’s physical. Ana went into the other room where nurse Paula and another nurse did all of the typical measurements and charted them. While that was occurring Dr. Castro found the pacifier that we had been carrying (but not needing) for Ana. He became mildly frustrated that the babies were given access to them. “All they (pacifiers, papi in Spanish) do is keep them quiet, and spread germs…” he muttered. A sign the he is constantly trying to keep not just your baby healthy, but many healthy. This was a task that isn’t easily appreciated or understood fully. He demonstrated her reflexes and we returned to his office. He then compared her measurements to standard curves and began discussing the vaccination regimen. That is when he shared a dream to one day being able to vaccinate all of the orphans against the Rotavirus, a common affliction for little ones in orphanage situations. It is simply a matter of funding. He uses the money he has to get the absolutely critical vaccinations according to the World Health Organization. We asked about an approximate dollar amount. He settled on ~$300 a child. Were there other ways we could help, we again asked. Seeing the sincerity of our curiosity, he produced a list of items that he had hopes of acquiring. Pediatric records software, baby monitors for S.I.D.S., air purifiers, dehumidifiers, and other medical equipment. Our intention is to share that list with as many people as we can to find a way to fill some of those gaps. As wonderful of a place, and as great the care given at Hannah’s Hope, so much can be done to support their mission. We completed our consultation with the Doctor and thanked him for all that he was doing on behalf of us parents who were thousands of miles away from our little ones.
Next was our birthmother meeting. As we waited in the visiting room, Lily asked the other family to head down to the baby rooms below, so that we could have some private time with Vicky (Ana Victoria). Lily again left to bring Vicky in. I felt my stomach knot-up. This was a part of the visit that I knew would be emotionally tough. Jen and I said a short prayer of blessing over the meeting and the experience that Vicky, Jen and I would walk away with. We waited for what seemed, and may have been, twenty minutes. Finally, Lily dragged (literally) Vicky into the room. Vicky was smiling and caring a dozen long stem roses (for us!). The tears began to flow as we hugged her. We had also asked how to best say “Thanks for coming” in Spanish in hopes of putting her at ease (Gracias por vene). We sat on the couches and through Lily the interpreter, we all shared how we were all nervous about this meeting, but at the same time glad that it could happen. We shared that we now considered her a part of our family as much as the baby. This (we believe) took her a bit by surprise. We shared thoughts and gifts from our extended family to express how she was as important to us as was little Ana. We didn’t want her to think that she would be forgotten, but quite the contrary, embraced and remembered fondly by the parents and grandparents of the baby. Jen shared a necklace that held the June birthstone and a cross, which Jen also had, along with the plans to give our necklace to Ana when she was older. Ana could then have the same piece of jewelry as her birth mom. She then politely set aside the gifts to reveal a journal that she had written in during the pregnancy. She shared that as she was reading My Utmost For His Highest, she would write notes to God and the baby inside of her. She had two passages marked, and through tears, Lily read as we listened. What a moving look into Vicky’s heart that was. She was afraid to come, but still allowed herself to be this transparent and take any kind of guard down. We were being blessed beyond measure in that moment. We then began talking about her and her kids. She quickly produced a small album of pictures taken of Sandra, her 4 year old daughter. She beamed with pride as she shared about Sandrita. She was sad that Sandrita could not come to the meeting that morning because she had gotten chicken pox. She had no pictures of Carlos (age 6), but commented that he was often sick, and was at his grandmother’s at the time. We took that opportunity to give bags of gifts that Joel and Grace had selected for Sandra and Carlos. Joel gave Carlos an American flag and soccer t-shirt, several matchbox cars, some candy, a foam bat and ball, and some extra balls to play catch with. Grace gave Sandra a red, white, and blue dress, lots of hair bows, some colored pencils, some candy, and a small stuffed animal. The kids also gave Vicky a framed picture of them holding a photo of Ana. We then gave her a bag with some clothes and sandals in it. Though she was grateful, she did not pay much attention to the material things of the moment. She was not going to miss the opportunity by getting caught up in the material stuff. Jen and I were impressed with the maturity and grace with which she handled this emotional meeting. We then asked if she would like to have some pictures of her with Ana. She enthusiastically agreed. I went down to Ana’s crib and brought her back to the visiting room. Instead of this being a gut-wrenching sob fest, this part of the meeting was the most light-hearted and “fun”. Jen and I had been nervous about how difficult it might be and the emotions that might surface at the sight of the baby, but it was a pleasant surprise. Vicky had obviously earned her stripes as a mother. She looked very comfortable and delighted to hold and bounce the baby. She began talking with the baby and enjoying the interaction. She didn’t seem like a mother who had given up her baby, but like an interested aunt who was delighting in the alertness of the little one. Though she didn’t speak any English (or even attempt to), we understood much of the talk she would have with the baby. The most touching moment was when she introduced herself as Ana’s other mommy. The air in the room was light and happy, not sad and full of remorse…this is what Jen and I had desired from this opportunity. We took many pictures and some video. During this time she shared how the Lord had told her to name the baby after Jenifer. She then went on to share that she had intended to name the baby Diana Esperanza (Esperanza translates into Hope, amazing isn’t it???). Our meeting well exceeded the requested 30 minute time limit. We were pushing well over an hour. I don’t recall how we actually wrapped up the meeting, but the hugs were happier at the end than they were at the beginning. As Lily and Vicky left the office, we remembered that we had not prayed before she left. We quickly ran outside to catch Lily and Vicky. I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to have to pray through an interpreter. I suppose having not gone through that thought process earlier probably saved me some acid reflux issues. It was an honor to pray for a blessing upon Vicky, her kids, and Ana. It was also an opportunity for giving thanks for answering our prayers for a memorable meeting. By this time it was after 1 o’clock and my belly was on fire with hunger. To my surprise, so was Jen’s. It is not often that she looks at me and asks, “When is lunch?”. With Ashley nowhere in sight and the other family expecting us to get the lunch wagon rolling during their meeting, Jen hunted for someone in an office that could order for us. I was down in the baby’s room feeding Ana her an afternoon bottle. As Jen looked for a secretary, she ran across Vicky again, as she was showing off the picture of our kids with the picture of Ana. That was a reassurance that the meeting was as positive for her as it was for us. In the meantime Jen comes back to me wondering WHAT we should order. With the responsibility of ordering something for another family (practically strangers), we decided to once again order from Domino’s and duplicate their order (a medium pepperoni, with 1.5 liters of Sprite) from the day before to be on the safe side. Jen made the order, and we waited in the baby’s room for the Domino’s motorcycle to pull up so that they did not disturb the Prothe’s meeting.
To pass the time, Jen and I decided to go for a walk down the street to get some much needed air. Despite the sight of storm clouds rolling in, the sun was still brightly burning through some holes in the clouds. As we began our stroll, I held Ana in one arm and used the other hand to shade her face. It was then that the normally quiet and dower guard near the gate spoke to get our attention. Without a word of English, he stopped us, grabbed an umbrella, and gave it to us to shade Ana. Had every employee taken an oath of service here? It sure did seem that way. Not only did he provide us some shade, but he then felt the need to shadow us from a comfortable distance. The guards had not done that the day before, but apparently he felt the need to provide that extra assurance. The sky began to spit not long after our walk was completed. As the pizzas arrived we needed an appropriate place to eat while the other family finished their meeting in the visiting room. Perhaps waiting for them would have been the most polite thing to do, but we were genuinely hungry. So we grabbed some chairs in the glassed in breezeway outside Dr. Castro’s office. Suddenly one of the nurses pulled out a small table for us to put our food on. Again, these people were busy doing their days work, but also taking time to go out of their way to show unending hospitality. By this point, the rains began to fall with some force. Again, Domino’s never tasted so good (except for the day before). It was neat to be in this glassed in area during a downpour, having lunch with our new daughter and some time to reflect on the meeting with Vicky. It rained for a good majority of our time left at the orphanage. After polishing off the medium with green peppers and the Diet Coke, we waited for the scheduled tour of the remaining orphanage buildings. We were to visit the birthmothers’ home on Thursday, but were not allowed to due to an outbreak of chicken pox in the children that were living there.
After waiting for a while, we decided that Ashley was not going to make it back for our scheduled tour and decided to explore on our own. On the way out of the visiting room, we ran across two families who had just finished their embassy appointments. One was the family from North Dakota, and the other from Cleveland, Ohio. The Ohio family gave us hope as they shared that they were taking their son, Ben home at the age of 5 months! After taking some time to chat with the lucky families, we walked over to house five where the older kids lived. The main floor was a kitchen, a dinning hall, and a large activity room. Out front in the covered veranda was a classroom-like area with desks, cupboards and colorful posters on the wall. As we headed down the stairs, we came upon shower time. Each child appeared to get a measured amount of time in the single shower of the bathroom (we didn’t see the actual bathroom, just the line of children waiting to go in and those getting toweled off upon exiting). We then peeked into the four bedrooms that were downstairs. The largest of the rooms was obviously for boys. The blue room with dinosaur pictures on the walls contained wall-to-wall bunk beds with a small area rug in the middle of the room. The boys were racing around the rug like it was a racetrack. The room was home to eight boys. As soon as the saw us, several came to give hugs, presumably remembering us for the backyard the day before. The others began to show off, in hopes of getting some affirmation of their “talent”. They later mobbed us in hopes of getting a closer look at the pictures we were taking. To satisfy their desire to see themselves, we asked them to stand against the only open wall in their room for a picture. Suddenly everyone in the room started chanting “Photo, photo, photo!”. This was apparently a drill that they were familiar with. After the flash went off, they all rushed Jenifer to get a look at what had just been captured…yeah, they knew the routine! We then peeked in to the other rooms. Each of them was unique with colorful walls, coordinated linens, and something soft for a floor covering. They had gone to great measures to make this as much like a home as possible for the children. We walked up the stairs to find some activity in the kitchen. Two special mothers were working on the dinner meal, along with three girls from the home who were helping. On the counter were 24 brown eggs, some cooking oil, a bowl of cooked black beans and a basket of little pan cakes. The fried eggs were the final component for the evening meal. They offered to feed us…again an amazing display of generosity from those who had little to give! Amazing…
We began the short walk back to the office knowing that the time to say goodbye to Ana was quickly approaching. There is really nothing fun or interesting to share about that moment. It was such a difficult walk back down to Casa #5. Once there, we remembered one more photo that we needed to take. The special mother working with Ana that day was Miriam. She was a lovely woman in her fifties, I would guess. She did not know any English, but earlier in the day communicated that she shared a birthday with Ana. As we began the “goodbye” process, Miriam seemed to understand the difficulty of the situation and came near us to share her love for us and the baby. We asked her to sit in a chair with Ana for one last photo of our little one. She was honored to do so, and took Ana into her arms and held her as if her own child. When I begin to worry and doubt about leaving Ana, I picture Miriam in my mind and see the loving hands and warm smile that comforted us in that moment of separation. A few more smooches, tears, and finally we set her down in her bassinette with three of her “closest friends”, Fatima, Marcos, and Heidi (babies in neighboring cribs). We walked out of Casa #5 and began desperately looking for some Kleenex. Neither of us had allowed ourselves to think about this moment until it happened, and thus we were unprepared. We hugged for a moment in the drizzle and then walked back up the concrete ramp to the van and Abel. Abel was always good for a smile and a laugh… and we needed it. We threw our few items back in the van and asked Abel for a picture in front of the van that we had looked for each day. This is when he made us smile. He put is arms on our shoulders and nearly hung from us as he stood on tiptoes to reach our shoulder height! His joy for life was contagious.
We began the short ride home, again marveling at the traffic and how motorcyclists could make three lanes into 5 or 6 lanes when needed. Jen took video of the traffic that she said was unlike anything that she had seen in the states (talk about sheltered!) while I waited for my favorite part of the drive: a tunnel with a 75 degree right hand turn right in the middle of it. Now that might not sound really note worthy, but as I mentioned before, not only were there no traffic signs around town, but they apparently thought that lights in the tunnel took all the “sport” out of the commute. Once returned the Marriot, we got hugs from Abel and a hearty “Luego, Amigos!” (Later, friends). We were determined to take advantage of the heightened security around town and stretch the boundaries of our exploration.
We dumped all non-essentials back in the room, verified the location and amount of remaining spending money and headed right back out the front door. This time the pace was more leisurely. We nearly reached the store we had shopped the night before when we noted that all the police had disappeared… Oh, well. We moved further down the block. Amazingly enough, all of the stores seemed to be rather similar. It was much the same merchandise, with only about 20% of their goods setting them apart for any of the other stores. The first store we entered, three older women behind the counter popped-up at first sight of us and began welcoming us. After much sifting, Jen found a shirt for her Dad. While pointing to a t-shirt with the quintessential “Chicken Bus” on it, I asked them in Spanish what they called that vehicle. They gave me an answer (which I don’t remember). Seeing my confusion, they used broken English to ask me what I would call it… “Un autobus de pollo” I said. They roared with laughter and nodded in confirmation. I had just made their day. I think that they appreciated the fact that an American was trying to communicate in THEIR language instead of the other way around. We said good evening and began marching to the next near-cloned store. What made the next few store interesting was the aggressive nature of the clerks…they would wait near the door and then begin to talking with you by starting- “Miss, Miss, Miss” or “Mister, Mister, Mister”, and then motion you in. The next store had many things priced, which I thought was nice, but later recognized it as just another ploy. This store (in its 20% uniqueness) had some Guatemalan soccer jerseys like the one I had gotten Joel (through Ashley). I began looking at them and then noted the price of $33. I thought it would be a fun souvenir for Joel and I to share, but not for that price. I set the shirt down. The omnipresent clerk then chirped “twenty five dollar”. I smiled and nodded and remembered some advice that my Grandma have given (good or not) from her travels in Mexico. She believed that store owners actually DESIRED to engage in bargaining for an item. Not willing to go into full-scale negotiations with rusty Spanish skills, I simply said “es possible, pero luego” (perhaps, but maybe later). She then fired back with “twenty dollar”. Again I said maybe, but not right now and headed out with Jen. As we headed down the block the clerks became more overt and ambitious as they sensed “fresh meat” in the market’s alley. It must have been a slow day for them the way they smiled at us and sneered at the clerks across the lane. After several more stores and coming to the end of the block, it appeared that a decent amount of walking would be needed to search out any more stores, so we headed back. I stopped in to check in on the soccer jerseys again. This time the clerk seemed more certain, and twenty was as low as it was going to go. Since I could tell that it was authentic (it actually had tags on it), I decided that this would be my one souvenir. Two crisp tens later and I was part of the pride of behind Guatemalan futbol. Jen wanted to stop one more time at our first and “most favorite” store to revisit a few more things. Jen picked up a few hair ties and a beautiful head band as her keepsakes. We once again shared our appreciation to the store owner and wished them a “buen fin de semana” (have a good weekend), to which we got a surprised “Egualmente” (you too!). Having some Spanish in the hip pocket really helped Jen and I enjoy our time and express ourselves with the local people. This is something we will continue to brush up on.
We headed back to the hotel and mimicked our previous day’s activities with little variation. One thing that we noted upon our return that evening was the presence of many Russians in the hotel, many wearing sweat suits with “RUSSIA” on the back. Despite the fact that many were smoking like chimneys, we believe that they were athletes there as a part of the IOC meetings being held at the Westin. The workout, the pool and dinner were great, except for one thing. Friday night is seafood night on the buffet. I ate a lot of vegetable that night. Once all of the Russian athletes had vacated the make-your-own-stir fry station, I found some chicken for the chef to sauté for me.
Again, sleep came easy for Jen. She passed out even sooner this evening than the evening before. I must admit that counting on the hotel clock to wake us up at 4 a.m. to catch a 4:30 shuttle to the airport again had me on edge. I didn’t sleep well. Even after the alarm went off, Jen wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to stay longer, but we needed to get home. She eventually rolled out of bed and got ready. We did our last “walk through” to catch anything left behind and then headed down to the front drive.
We plopped into the back seat of this mini bus and found ourselves behind another American couple. Leave it to Jen to find out all the personal details of their visit. This time though, they weren’t there for adoption purposes (surprise). Otis and Bonnie were from the Carolinas and had just completed a 10 day tour of the country. Immediately, Otis put me in mind of my friend, Paul. Not only did they look alike, but all the things that I love about Paul’s personality were true of Otis. They made the wait in the front drive and the trip to the airport relaxing and even funny at times as they recounted some of their misadventures. We decided that since we were taking the same flight, that we would stick together. Then we walked into the front doors of the airport. Hoards of people were standing in line, milling about and shouting while clogging the way to ANY ticket counter. I had printed our boarding passes the day before while at the orphanage… I then said out loud “Thank you e-tickets!”. Otis and Bonnie glared at us in good natured jealousy and waded through the crowds to find their ticket counter as we slipped through to the customs and security checkpoints. This is also when we praised ourselves for traveling light and skipping the need for checked baggage…it was all on our backs in a pack. While waiting for boarding, an hour had passed before Otis and Bonnie made it to the gate. This is when we began to share our experience and why we had come to Guatemala. They seemed genuinely interested, even asking for clarification on the exaggerated costs that they had heard associated with adoption. We once again got separated from them as they called us to board by seat numbers (we somehow got 1st class!), so we said farewell.
Sitting in first class afforded us the realistic chance at catching some sleep on the way home. Not long after taking off, the attendant came by with hot wash clothes prior to breakfast. What were these for? I washed my hands and face with it, and felt rather smug. I found myself occasionally looking back in to “steerage” to see what was going on there, and it was always the same…Nothing. Our flights home were much smoother and very relaxing. It was good to have the extra space and perks on this long day of travel…God was good. As we went through the final steps of immigration, we caught one more sighting of Otis and Bonnie, so Jen scribbled our contact information and the AGCI website on a napkin. I asked the immigration official if I could leave the counter and hand the napkin to some friends in the cue, suspiciously he allowed it. I gave it to Otis, and just the other day he e-mailed us and thanked us for the information…who knows if they will be inspired by our story? It is up to the Lord.
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