A Final Post . . .

I have promised my blog readers that I would always be “real in the midst of the process”, “lovingly honest” . . . always letting God’s wisdom shine through my written words. That has always been my witness and testimony . . . and I wish to close out our adoption journey to Pakistan with that commitment to the Truth.

Our adoption journey to Pakistan is over . . . Heartbreaking and Incomplete . . . Without our Gracy Girl . . . our Marina Grace . . . our precious Sweet Pea!

There is no room for anger. The emotional pain and grief take up all the space. It takes my breath away and makes me so physically weak that I fall to my knees . . . once there, all I can do is pray.

No one knows what will happen . . . and according to the US Embassy there is little hope, actually slim to none. However, I know God is bigger than this . . . it WILL take a miracle! Please pray for this miracle.

Please understand . . . I have made public what I wish to be publically known . . . everything else is private. I humbly ask for you to respect my privacy. And yes, there is an on-going US Embassy and Pakistan Child Welfare investigation. If you wish to know the current state of the Lighthouse Pakistan program . . . please contact Lorien Wenger (director of LH) directly with your questions.

And, most of all - - - as you go throughout your day, as you walk by a child and as you kiss your children at night . . . please, please pray for precious Sweet Pea/Marina Grace . . . Gracy . . . the innocent victim.

Mama

(I plan to keep my blog public for a few days, so everyone hopefully can read what has happened. After that, I plan to turn it private . . . for a while.)

Home . . .

The most difficult moment . . . walking through the door of Home without Sweet Pea. I see all the preparation that took place in anticipation of Sweet Pea’s arrival home . . .
. . . the car seat and stroller
. . . the “organized” closet full of her clothes and the changing table
. . . her sweet bassinet in Mama’s room . . . the matching swing
. . . her precious picture on the counter for G’ma and Nicky to see every day.

I don’t even have the emotional energy to cry anymore. It will all be dealt with at some point . . . but not right now, not today.

Tomorrow . . . maybe the pain will begin to subside. Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and it will all just be a dream, a horrible nightmare! I will wake up and have my precious Sweet Pea and all will be right with the world!

Tomorrow . . . God, could you please begin working the miracle, so all will be right tomorrow?

Today . . . I need to hug my sweet boy, my Nicky. Try to help him understand why his mama is so sad and his little sister is not here. What do you say to a 6 year old that can even begin to explain it? Nothing . . . really. He is still too young to understand why the very innocent of our world . . . our children . . . become tragic victims!

But, his questions need to be answered . . . “what happened, Mama?” Deep breath, steady voice . . . My dear Lord . . . give me the right words . . .

Mama

The Difficult Journey Home . . .

Through each flight and airport, we are the walking numb . . . we move through the motions that need to happen to get from point A to point B. I remember little of the 26 hour flight home. Uppa D and I have spoken very little, but we are grieving together. All it takes is a catch of the eye or a look of disbelief between us. We need no words . . . because there are no words to describe our pain.

My thoughts alternate between . . . “we are walking through the airports without our precious Sweet Pea. It is so different than what was planned.” and “Where is she? Is she crying? Does she need her bottle? Is she ok?” Those thoughts keep repeating over and over in my head. And, hopefully, if I keep repeating it enough, it will eventually start to become . . . real.

I was dreading the flight from Dubai to Houston . . . 16 hours of looking at the bulk head wall . . . just two holes . . . where the bassinet was to have been. 16 hours of a constant reminder that I had lost my baby girl.

But, God knew my pain . . . and provided a healing diversion. There was a mother and 2 children (3 yo & 12 mo) across the aisle in the bulk head seats from us. The 3 yo was a sweet toddler girl, with big brown eyes . . . the very image of Sweet Pea. At first, I cringed when I heard her mother use her name, Maria . . . so close to Sweet Pea’s name, off only by 1 letter! I just sat there and watched her in her sweet, toddler-like, playful activity. I realized that God was allowing me to catch a glimpse of what my baby girl might look like in 3 years. Such a gift of interaction with this little girl. I played with Maria several times from Dubai to Houston. I eventually felt like I needed to apologize to her mother for staring at her so long and often. I told her mother that she reminded me of a “very special baby girl” with big brown eyes and a beautiful, sweet smile. I told her mother that she should be so very proud of Maria. Her mother asked if I had children, I said yes and she smiled and told me I was a good mother!

We touched down in Houston and I said a mournful good-bye to Maria.

We made it to the gate for our final flight . . . and then . . . my sister was there, gathering me up in her arms! My brother-in-law and sister had driven from Austin to spend the layover in Houston with us. Such a wonderful, refreshing 2-3 hour surprise of support!

We boarded the final leg of our flight home. One more hour and then the difficult journey would be over. But, the hardest moment of all still to come . . . walking into our Home with aching, empty arms.

Finally, it was over. Uppa D hugged me as we walked through the airport to baggage claim.

We were met at the airport with no fanfare, no celebration . . . no grand entrance with Sweet Pea, but by my homestudy social worker, G’ma and 2 of my dearest friends and adoptive mothers. They gathered us up, enveloping us with love and support.

And then . . . Nicky . . . my sweet boy, the love-of-my-life, ran to greet us. I snatched him up . . . tears streaming down.

So very bittersweet . . .

Mama

The US Embassy Interview . . .

The best way for me to begin this post is to start with the day’s ending . . .

It is early in the wee hours of the morning, Thursday (10/15/09) about an hour before we leave Pakistan to fly home to the US.

We will be returning home . . . without our precious Sweet Pea!

Several hours ago, I read the latest blog comments and I noticed one particular comment from a parent, currently in Pakistan adopting. She gave me her email address in hopes that we could connect while we both were still here in Pakistan. I sent her an email a couple hours ago, introducing myself and just now received a reply email back from her. Her email stated she has just gone through court and received the Permanent Guardianship Order. Thursday she will have her US Embassy interview for the child’s visa. She mentioned that she was just informed by the embassy that there may be delays because of a very recent case where the child’s documents had been forged. She had read my blog and knew I was to have our US Embassy interview on Wednesday and asked if I had heard anything about this particular case while at the embassy? Had I encountered any delays? I sent back an email that “Yes, I had heard about the case” and I wished her well, safe travels, as she finished her adoption of her daughter.

Yes, I am very, very familiar with the case she mentioned . . . because . . . that case, is my adoption of Sweet Pea.

Wednesday (10/14/09) started just like any other morning of our 3.5 weeks in Pakistan. Sweet Pea woke up around 5:30 a.m. desperately wanting her bottle. Then we snuggled back to sleep until we needed to Skype with big brother, Nicky, at 6:30 a.m. Just a regular early morning . . . the only difference was, Sweet Pea turned 14 weeks old today! And, it was hopefully our last day in Pakistan – with the absolute priority of the day being the US Embassy interview and issue of Sweet Pea’s visa. We were to be there in the morning around 11:00 so we needed to be ready by 9:00 to catch the embassy diplomatic shuttle service to the security gate of the US Embassy. We all quickly got dressed . . . Sweet Pea in her precious red, white & blue dress, specifically purchased by a good friend just for this special embassy interview occasion (thank you K!). We took pictures, Sweet Pea holding her new country flag - - - USA!

Both Sadeem (Director of Global Adoption Services) and the orphanage social worker (Pastor of Great Gospel Church) were to accompany us to the US Embassy, per the request of the Chief of American Citizens Services Unit on Tuesday (10/13/09). The Chief of ACS had called me late Tuesday to inform me that my “systems issue” was FINALLY resolved. He also mentioned that he would like for the Pastor and Sadeem to accompany me to the embassy on Wednesday morning.

Sadeem has always been our transportation, so we HAD to wait for Sadeem to arrive. Due to details that really are not important, we ended up running very, very late, once again. So, we had the manager of the guest house snap a couple pictures of Sweet Pea, Mama and Uppa D in front of the guest house. Due to our time restraints, that would have to do for an embassy picture! Little did I know - - - that would be the last picture we would take of precious Sweet Pea.

We FINALLY arrived at the embassy around 1:00 p.m. The Chief of ACS was waiting for us and we were allowed to immediately go into “window #1”, a small, closed room with a through-way window where the adoption interviews take place. The Chief of ACS was sitting behind the window, ready for us! He needed us to submit our final documents: the court order, I-600 and I-864. Once done, he asked us to take a seat out in the waiting area. Then he wanted to visit with the Pastor. After about 40-45 minutes, the Pastor came and sat behind us. Then the Chief of ACS wanted to visit with Sadeem. After another 40-45 minutes, Sadeem emerged and I was finally called back to “window #1”. In my mind, I was thinking “YEAH! Issue of Visa is next!

Inside “window #1” we sat down, Uppa D was holding Sweet Pea so I could concentrate on the final discussions for the visa. The Chief of ACS looked up at me and said “Ms B., I’m sorry to inform you, we cannot issue a visa for ‘Sweet Pea’ . . . “ The blood immediately drained from my body, I looked at him in disbelief. He continued on to explain . . . “It has been verified that several of Sweet Pea’s identity documents have been forged.” You see, the Chief of ACS is also the head of the Fraud Division of the US Embassy.

Important discussion about the documents continued, but the details are not publicly available. What is important . . . I have absolutely no rights to this child. Being my nature, I immediately went into “crisis management” mode. Since we have 5 days left on our visa (30 day duration) I told the US Embassy I wanted to stay in Islamabad and see what we could do. But, according to the Chief of ACS, unfortunately at this point in time, no amount of additional time spent in Pakistan, on our part, will make any difference, especially over a weekend. The embassy recommended that we keep our flights for the next morning, Thursday (10/15/09) and return home to the US. They would keep us posted, or try to, on any new developments in the case.

And . . . this I remember specifically, imprinted on my memory forever . . . the Chief of ACS looked down at the floor for a few seconds (the words obviously difficult for him to say). Then he looked back up at me and said, “Sweet Pea will need to be taken into custody by the Pakistani Welfare Services (FIA). A social worker has been called and will be here shortly. Please take as much time as you need.” My mind couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t grasp the words he was saying . . . he had to repeat it again. I looked over at Uppa D, my mind and body wracked with grief.

They were going to take her away!

We held, hugged and kissed Sweet Pea until the social worker entered the small room. I was again taken to my knees with grief . . . she said “take as much time as you need.” So, I spent my last few moments with my daughter . . . I fed Sweet Pea her last bottle, rocked her and sang our song (Pretty Little Blue Bird – a song that was sang to me as a child & now I sing it to my children). I stroked her face and chin (she loves that!) just so I could hear her coo and giggle one last time.

Through tears, Uppa D began to go through the diaper bag, taking out my personal items (wallet, sunglasses, lip stick, etc). He kept asking me if I wanted to “send this and send that” with her. Again, Uppa D was visibly shaken when I told him to please fold the blanket (I made especially for my baby girl) and put it in the diaper bag to go with her. I then took out an extra passport photo of me, Mama, from the dossier binder. I wrote a special note on it to my sweet, baby daughter and slipped it down in a pocket of the diaper bag. The social worker assured me that she would try to make sure the picture stayed with Sweet Pea as long as possible.

I hugged Sweet Pea tight, I gave her a “hundred kisses” . . . then the social worker had to take her out of my arms . . . As the social worker walked to the door, I stopped her . . . I cried “Please, one more time”. She let me kiss her one last time. I then placed my hands on her sweet, beautiful, baby head and prayed that God’s grace would surround her and His hands of protection would cover her all her life, until we meet once again! Then the social worker walked out the door. We watched that beautiful, sweet baby walk away, down the corridor, taken out of our lives possibly, probably . . . Forever.

The Consular General of the US Embassy and the Chief of ACS came back into “window #1”. They sat with us, the Consular General held my hand for the longest time, repeating how very sorry he was. He had no choice . . . no choice at all, but to do what he did. I told him . . . I know . . . I understand . . .

We sat there for another hour, crying, gaining composure - - - the Chief of ACS made a call for an embassy car to take us back to the Diplomatic Shuttle Service to collect our electronics that we had to check prior to boarding the shuttle to the embassy. He then accompanied us to the shuttle and then back to the guest house. He made sure we were well taken care of there and also made arrangements for a US embassy car to transport us to the airport for our flight early Thursday morning. Before the Chief of ACS left, he made sure that we knew he was available all night long for anything we needed. The US Embassy has been very compassionate, in the midst of a very difficult situation.

Over the course of 3.5 weeks, we have gotten very close with a few of the guest house workers. They have been so kind and loved on Sweet Pea so. When we returned without her, they knew something was not right. They could tell we were visibly shaken. They finally approached Uppa D and asked . . . Uppa D very briefly stated the facts. They were shocked and one-by-one they came into our room, hugged me and told me how very, very sorry they were for my loss. They were so kind . . . we might have a language barrier at times, but their genuine concern was so apparent!

After some quiet time, I finally called the US via Skype and broke the news to my family . . . so much disappointment and sadness. And, then, there was nothing else we could do . . . but begin to pack.

I had planned on giving most of Sweet Pea’s clothes (0-3 month summer) to Global Adoption Services' (Sadeem’s agency) foster care program and had gone through almost all of her clothes in anticipation of that donation. In lieu of a different plan, we asked the manager of the guest house if he knew of an orphanage close by that would accept our donation . . . he assured us he did. So, I tearfully went through her clothes one last time . . . keeping only the special ones (gotcha day dress, “pretty girl” onesie, “little miracle” romper, pink sleeper from the last night with her “baby” smell, etc). The rest we left in the room for the manager to take to the orphanage.

So . . . now I am at the end of the day, where I initially began this post . . . we are now waiting for the US Embassy driver to arrive to take us to the airport, to leave Pakistan . . . without our precious Sweet Pea.

Never in a million years, when I woke up this morning and saw my “pretty girl”, did I think this would be the end of our day . . . but nonetheless . . . here we are! How did we get here . . . ???

I have no Anger . . . just bottomless, bottomless Grief . . . There simply are no words to describe it.

Mama

Return Flight . . . Plans have changed!

Return flight schedule has changed.

TBD & I will let you know . . .