Months and months ago, when this adoption was still in its infancy, when I learned that Gladys was living in a foster home, I knew that Gotcha (and the ensuing transition) would be difficult. I knew it all the months that we went through the adoption stages. And when I learned that not only was Gladys in foster care, but that she'd been with the same family for FIVE years, I really knew it...this transition was going to be H.A.R.D. I knew it last night when I woke up 3 or 4 times. I knew it when I tried to eat breakfast and had butterflies in my stomach. I knew it when we were driving to meet Gladys and my hands were shaking. I knew it when we arrived at the meeting place and my mouth was dry. I knew it. Then, in walks this teeny, tiny, larger-than-life, little spitfire! I was instantly captivated! She has possibly the worst "bowl" haircut known to man, but oh, my! The personality bursting out of this little one was something amazing to see! She walked into th
Whew! What a day! In the words of the wisest 7-year-old I know, today was "tough--tough but good." Having gone through a Gotcha Day before, you'd think we would know what to expect, right? Well, right and wrong. We knew she was timid, introverted, and shy; we knew she had a previous disrupted adoption; we knew she was scared of foreigners. What we didn't know was how that would all manifest itself. Well, it was something. There were lots of tears...from Gemma and from us. There were a LOT of prayers. And the biggest thing I can say is THANK GOD FOR SIMON! He was my rock, and he was Gemma's rock too, even though she didn't know it at the time.
We arrived at the Civil Affairs Office with 1 other Lifeline family. We saw Gemma before she was handed over to us, and she looked happy. After she was given to us, it was mayhem for a while. To preserve Gemma's dignity, I won't go into details. Let's just say our hearts were breaking for her. The fear in he
Gladdie Mae went 27 days in a row wearing her Gotcha outfit. We started kidding with each other...making bets for how long she’d hold out. Then came Sunday. She didn’t change out of her pjs all day. Then Monday, the same. Then Tuesday, the same. We Thought, HOPed, PRAYED that she was turning a corner in her trust and acceptance of us. Could it finally be? Then, that tiny sliver of sunlight was shut out when the window slammed down this morning. She got dressed in her Gotcha outfit. Once again. I’m not going to lie. I was upset. I melted down. Partly from pride/jealousy. (Am I not enough for her? Why can’t she love me like she loves her foster mama?) Partly from inconvenience. (Geez, now I’m going to have to wash this outfit every night again!) But mostly from a broken heart...for my daughter. Here she is, having just had the rug pulled out from under her. Her entire world topsy-turvy. She’s trying to make sense of it all by clinging for dear life to t