So when I came home, I wondered what I should do. I was looking at my desk and thought I should start there. You see, it's been covered with papers for over a year. It was clean May 2009. But that's because I'd organized all of it to be ready when we returned from Colombia and needed to complete post-placement reports and schedule Dr. visits.
But when we came back, we couldn't bear to unpack. Our suitcases sat in the living room for a month and a half. And then, we never really unpacked; we just pulled what we needed out until all was pretty much out.
Except for the paperwork.
When you devote hours upon hours upon hours to that paperwork and it symbolizes your children, it weighs heavy with value. I could not even bear to look at it. So I stacked it on my desk with averted eyes. Letters that came from Children's Hospital with the kids' names on them were stacked on my desk. A few times I tried to clean it up, but I just couldn't handle it.
Yesterday, I knew it was time. Some of the top papers weren't adoption related at all. That was easy. But then i saw a hospital letter with S's name on it-unopened. I opened it. The words "your child..." stared at me. I put it quickly into the adoption medical file. A few more random papers and then the binder. The binder I'd meticulously organized with all of our copies of the Homestudy, passports, applications, signed documents, receipts, all of it that we'd need to finalize the adoption in Colombia. And it was all still there as I'd put it in. One paper had our signature on it. The one from Bienestar when we took over care of the children.
At that point the sobs hit. The wracking, I can't breathe, immensely painful kind. I put the binder in the file cabinet and continued on. I came across receipts from Carrefor, and the little grocery down the street where I'd carried E (the only time he let me carry him) and actually felt like a "real mom" grocery shopping with 2 of her kids. I'd had to say "no" to H when she saw a princessa paper doll and book. She asked so sweetly, and I desperately wanted to buy it for her, but it was like $12,000 or something, and I couldn't figure out the math to see what it would be in $USD. Not to mention the hell that would break loose back home if one of her brothers got a hold of it and destroyed it.
Then i found the file that had a song H had written down for me for a hand-clap game. We'd been playing it one day, and she tried to say it slowly enough for me to learn it, but without seeing them written I was having trouble. So she labored over writing it down for me. We sat on the wood floor at the top of the steps, me relishing the sweet time with my daughter. I remember thinking how blessed i was to have H as a daughter.
And on I went. I got the desk cleaned off and the papers put away. My heart was very sad. I tried and am trying hard to accept this day, yesterday, that day in June as God's will. At this moment, it's very painful.
