Yesterday I received a call from IHNFA asking Barbe and me to bring Luis to the courthouse in the morning. We had been waiting for this call for over four months, and I was excited that this day had finally arrived. Luis was to be officially declared "abandoned".
We arrive at the courthouse along with the two elderly ladies who had cared for Luis most of his life. We sit with the judge and the lawyers and Barbe and I agree to take legal responsibility for Luis as his "familia sustituta" until he is adopted.
Each of us, including Luis, step up to sign the legal document declaring him abandoned. I smile broadly at the lawyer, "Good job, nice work". She smiles back, relieved that the long process is finally complete, after all, this is what we have all been waiting for. With this declaration of abandonment the adoption process should move forward quickly and Luis will soon be, if all goes well, adopted and a US citizen.
I look over at Luis and suddenly I realize that there is something wrong. Luis is not celebrating. Instead he looks as if he's about to cry. As he hugs his "mothers" goodbye, these two elderly ladies who have raised him for thirteen years, the tears start.
As they drive away, I lean against the car, wrap my arms around him and let him hide his face against my chest. The hot, mid-morning sun beats down on us as he leans in against me, snuffling into my white and green striped shirt, wetting the front of it with his tears.
I realize as I stand there that this moment is bittersweet. What a sad thing that we live in a world where we need to declare any child abandoned. Abandoned, I even hate the sound of it. Abandoned. It sounds so lonely, so sad, so desolate, so...unwanted. Every time I have to use the word with Luis, I cringe. I wonder, how does it make him feel to think that his mother, his family abandoned him.
I talk to him as we lean there against the car. I tell him once again about the family who is already loving him, praying for him, waiting anxiously for news about the legal process, especially for news about this declaration of abandonment. For them, and rightfully so, it is a day to rejoice, to be glad. Today brings them one step closer to the day that they will call Luis "our son".
Bittersweet? Yes, but for me the sweetness far out weighs the bitter. Knowing that soon, Luis will have his very own family that he can call his very own is a beautiful thing and Barbe and I are grateful that we have been able to play a small part in it.
We arrive at the courthouse along with the two elderly ladies who had cared for Luis most of his life. We sit with the judge and the lawyers and Barbe and I agree to take legal responsibility for Luis as his "familia sustituta" until he is adopted.
Each of us, including Luis, step up to sign the legal document declaring him abandoned. I smile broadly at the lawyer, "Good job, nice work". She smiles back, relieved that the long process is finally complete, after all, this is what we have all been waiting for. With this declaration of abandonment the adoption process should move forward quickly and Luis will soon be, if all goes well, adopted and a US citizen.
I look over at Luis and suddenly I realize that there is something wrong. Luis is not celebrating. Instead he looks as if he's about to cry. As he hugs his "mothers" goodbye, these two elderly ladies who have raised him for thirteen years, the tears start.
As they drive away, I lean against the car, wrap my arms around him and let him hide his face against my chest. The hot, mid-morning sun beats down on us as he leans in against me, snuffling into my white and green striped shirt, wetting the front of it with his tears.
I realize as I stand there that this moment is bittersweet. What a sad thing that we live in a world where we need to declare any child abandoned. Abandoned, I even hate the sound of it. Abandoned. It sounds so lonely, so sad, so desolate, so...unwanted. Every time I have to use the word with Luis, I cringe. I wonder, how does it make him feel to think that his mother, his family abandoned him.
I talk to him as we lean there against the car. I tell him once again about the family who is already loving him, praying for him, waiting anxiously for news about the legal process, especially for news about this declaration of abandonment. For them, and rightfully so, it is a day to rejoice, to be glad. Today brings them one step closer to the day that they will call Luis "our son".
Bittersweet? Yes, but for me the sweetness far out weighs the bitter. Knowing that soon, Luis will have his very own family that he can call his very own is a beautiful thing and Barbe and I are grateful that we have been able to play a small part in it.
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