July 23rd 2004. One of the wonderful perks of adopting from Guatemala- we are allowed to visit our baby during the process. Suitcases are packed. Flights and reservations confirmed. Paperwork in order. Today, we fly to Guatemala. Today, you are placed in our arms for the first time. Today is a special day. The word 'special' does not even begin to convey the significance of this day. Meeting your child for the first time, well that's just HUGE. Where most people we know met their child as a newborn in a hospital delivery room, we will meet our child at 4 1/2 months in the lobby of the Marriott. Over polished marble floors, under a brilliant chandelier and next to a majestic grand staircase. Odd yet perfect.
Our two flights to Guatemala go quite smoothly. We check into the hotel with no problems. We unpack and tour the hotel. We were told to meet you, Lettie and the attorney's nephew, Julio, in the lobby around 3pm. We arrive early so we found a table in the hotel lounge with a perfect view of the front entrance to stand watch. We nervously sip our soda and eat stale peanuts. We attempt to capture our thoughts on video for history's sake. Instead, we have video footage of us mumbling nonsensical things awkwardly at the camera. Absolutely no semblance of the poignant narrative I had hoped for. Oh well. As the minutes passed, my insides were turning to jello. My nervous chatter was beginning to freak your father out.
It was way past our meeting time, so Panic takes a seat with us. What if something is wrong? What if you weren't coming? What if we missed you? What if we were at the wrong hotel? Wrong date? It was too much to bare. The lobby was quite busy so we move closer to the front entrance. Unfortunately, we forgot to pay for our soda at the lobby. The waitress sees us hustling towards the front door, and rightly assumes we are trying to skip out on the tab. She begins yelling and running toward us getting the attention of every other person in the vicinity. "Hello Guatemala. We come from America. We steal soda. Nice to meet you." We apologize profusely and pay the bill. I know, I know, we did a great job of representing the US.
We take turns pacing and sitting on the lobby couch facing the front entrance. Every car that pulls up outside, we go thru the same routine: Is there a baby? Do you see them? Is it him? Could that be Lettie? Is she holding a baby? Do you see them? No. No. No. Maybe...no. No. It felt like dozens of cars pull up and pull away. I pull the video camera out to distract myself and another car pulls up. It is a woman. Is she holding a baby? YES!! Is that Lettie? YES, that's her! Your father instantly recognizes Lettie from the photographs. The car pulls away and she takes a seat on the bench outside the front entrance. She must be waiting for Julio, as she does not speak English nor does she know what we look like. For a quick minute, we debate if we should go out to meet her. We fought the urge to bolt towards screaming with joy but didn't want to frighten her. Two over-stressed frazzled Americans babbling a foreign language running towards a woman with a infant. Fear and terror were not the first emotions we wanted to invoke in Lettie. We wanted Lettie to like us. More so, we wanted Lettie to LOVE us. We wanted her to have no doubts that you would be with loving and stable parents. At that moment, we weren't exactly oozing 'stability'. We quickly try to calm ourselves and get our act together. So I turn on the video and start taping you through the glass doors as you lay sleeping in her arms. I climb behind the lobby furniture to get the best angle of your sleeping face. I am zooming in and I happen to glance up to Lettie's face and realize she can see me through the doors! I panic. I slam the video camera shut and run back to the couch. Admit it... I am smooth. What am I doing?? I wanted to portray the picture of 'stability.' Instead I offer 'creepy' and 'stalker-like.' I was horribly embarrassed but suddenly it didn't matter. My baby was a mere 20 feet away and I wasn't waiting another second to see him. I shoved the camera in the bag, grabbed your father and out the door we ran.
