Thoughts Of You

By Carla

Adoptive mom Carla shares her private thoughts as she waits for her daughter Beatrice Eugenia from Guatemala. The following are excerpts from her diary.

January 16, 1998: Yesterday, we sent off our application packet. Today, we can say we are expecting a baby. Somewhere, with some woman we may never know, you may already be growing. At the Agency, people say that you will choose us. I am so excited to start waiting for you. Not just any baby, but my baby.

February 12, 1998: Last night we went to our first pre-adoptive class. At home I couldn't sleep because every time I closed my eyes I thought of those Guatemalan children's faces on that poster in the meeting room. We know our child will have a face like those. Your daddy said he is as excited as he's ever been about anything in his life.

March 12, 1998: Last meeting with our social worker today. She asked what kind of a parent I would be. I have often thought that Dad would make a great father because I see how he is with his nieces and nephews. But I haven't had to put into words what kind of a mother I think I would be. I think about turning the music loud and dancing with you. I think about quiet times reading to you, about letting you run around outside while I weed the garden. But what kind of a mother? I guess one day you'll let me know.

April 2, 1998: Today I had a conference with one of my students who was adopted from El Salvador. She had read the class a story about her adoption. She said, "I liked doing that piece because I thought if other kids were adopted they would like to read it. I know some people might have a hard time with it, but I look at it like I'm special." I said, "Yes, I bet [your mother] waited a long time for you too, didn't she?" My student smiled and said, "Yes."

July 23, 1998: We heard from the Agency today that it would be a maximum of two months before we see your picture. We will have your picture on the mantle and say: "That is our child who is coming home to us in a few months." It will break our hearts to know you are in this world and that we can't touch you yet.

August 3, 1998: Beatrice Eugenia born July 16, 1998. My baby is here. We have a girl. All this writing and now I can't think of anything to say.

August 4, 1998: Do you know what I'm looking at? You! During our meeting with Homai (our social worker) this morning she referred to you twice as our daughter and I had to remind myself that she was talking to us.

December 31, 1998: It's been a great year because we first knew about you, love, but as amazing as '98 has been it will never compare to '99 - The Year of Beatrice.

March 16, 1999: Logan Airport/Dallas Fort Worth Airport - the final six hours. I imagine our meeting again and again. Will I cry? Will you? I think about all of your family waiting at home for you, pausing in their work or play today thinking - almost time.

March 17, 1999: Guatemala City - When we flew in last night, the sun was setting in the mountains that surround the airport - the most beautiful setting I've ever landed in. But nothing compared to you, perched in Dona Laura's (your foster mother) lap, playing with your doll, the beads of your woven cap dangling in your dark hair, your brown eyes watching me as I held you for the first time. My baby. At last.

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