The Day I Met My Little Girl

I'm going to focus this blog entry mostly on meeting my daughter Lene while in Latin America. Also to be noted is that when posting photos of Lene, I must use caution.


I returned home from Latin America on July 5th. Before setting off on my adventure, I was pretty emotional about leaving my family for 10 days (especially the twins, seeing as how they're so small and are still nursing), but I knew this was what God had precisely instructed me to do. Robby drove me to the town of Clinton (halfway between our house and Little Rock) on a Wednesday afternoon to meet up with my friend Pat. From there, Pat took me to her house and that's where I spent the night. In the morning, she drove me to the Little Rock airport and I caught my flight to Houston. On the way, the pilot decided to re-route us in order to avoid a storm. My flight had been delayed in the first place, but now it was going to be a longer than normal flight. I got to Houston about an hour before my main flight left and I had to spend my time in the women's restroom pumping milk! Ha! Alas, I made it out in time to board the plane with the rest of my team and off to Latin America we went.

Calley, Salem, and I in Houston just prior to boarding.

Sunset on the way

The main flight was 7 hours. Not too bad, but not exactly what I'd call a short jaunt. I spent my time watching movies and chit chatting with my fellow teammates. We landed at about 10:30 that night and settled into the airport for an 8 hour layover. Not an easy feat! Most of us didn't sleep; some tried, but didn't have much success. It was a long night of over-tired conversation, time-checking, and, if I'm being honest, slight delirium. When it finally came time to board the plane for the little town in which we were headed early the following morning, we all took trams out to the plane, got on board, and nodded off shortly thereafter. 

However, when finally boarding our flight I noticed that when the plane attempted to leave for take-off, it was making some pretty awful sounds. Given my state of exhaustion, I didn't care as much as I probably should have. An hour later (and much of that time having slept), the captain made an announcement that we had to deboard and another plane would be ready for us soon. So we practically crawled off the plane, got back onto a tram, and headed back to the airport to wait. Again. It wasn't long before we were back on a new plane and in the air, finally on our way.

Upon landing, all of us were e.x.h.a.u.s.t.e.d. It was intense. We loaded up our luggage, posed for a photo, got on a bus, and went straight to the mission (the ministry that housed us while we were in country).
 

My ministry team and I

The ministry leader, Trent, gave us the break down of what life would be like while we were there over the following week. I was so overwhelmed with exhaustion, my new surroundings, and trying to cram so much information into my brain that I could feel myself breaking down emotionally. I had to leave the room and cry. It seems so silly now, but have you ever been at a place where you are at your limit in every way possible and you just can't seem to function properly anymore? That's where I was. Thankfully, we were afforded a pretty good nap that afternoon. I so needed it. That night several of the members of the team left on a mission that involved meeting with people on the street (drug addicts, prostitutes, etc.), but I knew that I needed to go to bed so that I could be better for the days ahead. It was a good decision and I was able to rest well.



Over the next few days we had opportunities to do lots of ministry work, including going to a tiny village nearby to play games with children that live in the area. There's no real, true way for me to describe what it's like there, but I will say that it's nothing like most people have ever seen. Even the "poor" in the United States aren't poor in the same way that the residents of this village are. You'd have to go there to understand- and then it's guaranteed that your heart would break and you would and could never look at life the same. The smells were overpowering, the trash and feces from all of the stray dogs (my goodness, THE NUMBER OF THEM was unbelievable) was everywhere, and the fact that children (even babies) ran around in droves without shoes and with no parents in sight was enough to make most people ill. In spite of the desperate conditions that surrounded us, we had a great time loving on and playing with the kids there. Without a doubt, visiting this place was my favorite ministry work while in country.


Monday night we were scheduled to visit Lene's orphanage as a group. Back when the Lord instructed Robby and I to adopt Lene, I had already signed up to go on this mission trip, and the way God brought everything together was nothing short of a miracle. When I discovered that Lene lives in in this same town in which I was already planning to go, I knew that God would make a way for me to see her. When my friend Calley (who led the mission trip with her husband Danny) said she'd ask Trent (the leader of the ministry we worked under in Iquitos) if we could get into the orphanage to visit the children, I had no doubts that it would happen. Before the trip, word got back to me that Trent had set up a time for our team to go while we were there. However I didn't know something very significant about his making those arrangements; Trent had tried before to get into the orphanage to do ministry work, but was denied. Prior to our team going, no one from his ministry had ever been let in before! It "just so happens" that when my team and I were in country, that was the very first time Trent had been given permission. Talk about the favor of God! 


Monday night came and a couple of my team members dressed up as clowns to entertain the kids. We all loaded into mototaxis and made the quick drive over to the orphanage. The taxi I was in was the first to pull up to the orphanage and I was literally the first person to walk through the metal gates; something unintentional, but that I felt was somehow significant in my story. We all gathered in a covered, but unwalled common area where just a few children had begun to come around. Once they'd all finished eating their dinner, they poured into the area and the games began. Honestly, I didn't expect Lene to be out with the rest of the kids. I knew that she likely wasn't considered a priority in times like this... or ever, perhaps. You see, in this country children with special needs don't receive the respect that we are taught to have for them here in the States. In fact, special needs children are generally considered unimportant all together. When some time had passed and Lene was no where to be seen, I inquired about what we could do to find her. Word got back to me shortly thereafter that someone was told that she was asleep and the orphanage workers preferred that she not be awakened. A slight panic ran through me, but I was quickly calmed as I realized that there was no way God had brought me that far only for me to leave without meeting my daughter. A few more minutes passed and someone from my team called me over. As I approached, I was informed that the orphanage director had approved a few of the ministry leaders to walk back to the houses- where the absent children were- and pray over the kids. Conveniently, I was quickly "knighted" as one of those leaders. ;) Six of us, including a Latin American friend named Anthony who served as our interpreter, walked to the back of the orphanage and began visiting the houses. There was somewhere around ten of them, each with a couple of bedrooms filled with children's bunk beds, a living area, and a woman to oversee everyone's needs. One by one we visited the children, chatted with the house "mom", and prayed over everyone living there. We had been informed that Lene was residing in house number nine, however when we approached it we found out that she had just been moved to a different house that morning and no one was certain where she was. I recall walking into each room, looking down into the faces of each child, and realizing that none of them were her. Before long, we were running out of houses, and eventually we reached the very last one. We went inside... and still no Lene. When we left the last house, I stood outside in confusion. What should we do? Where was she? Was there a house we'd missed? Somehow we discovered that there was a single room in one of the houses that we'd unintentionally overlooked. As we walked back into house number four and into the room we'd passed up the first time, I saw her. She was laying in the bottom bunk of a twin-size bed that she shared with another little girl. She was in a deep sleep and her hair covered her face. Unlike all of the other rooms we entered, everyone was silent as I looked over my daughter and gently reached out to touch her.

 I didn't want to wake her, but I didn't want to "meet" her while she was unconscious either. I let her be, examining all that I could of her, while Anthony prayed over her in Spanish and I kept my hand on her for as long as possible. She was bigger than I'd envisioned, but was still what I'd consider a small girl. Her ears were pierced, but one earring was missing. She was curled up in a half-ball and sleeping soundly while fully clothed. All in all, she was beautiful and I loved her instantly. Unfortunately we couldn't stay long and after just minutes I had to whisper goodbye and we retreated. Once we'd gotten back to the common area again, I reached into my bag for my cell phone and I realized that I'd completely forgotten to give Lene a very special stuffed lamb that I'd brought just for her. I turned around and told Anthony that I'd meant to give the toy to her and he responded, "Well, let's go back!" And so we walked back to the house, asked for permission to enter a third time, and I made my way into my daughter's room, slipped the lamb beside her, kissed her face, and asked Anthony to translate to her care taker to ensure that Lene keeps the lamb as a gift. Soon after, we were all leaving the orphanage and the big metal gates were closed behind us.


The next morning I woke up grateful. I was grateful to have been able to see my daughter, to touch her, to pray over her, and to have the experience of being with her- even if very briefly- the night before. But I also found myself saddened that I wasn't granted the opportunity to meet her while she was awake and alert, seeing what she's like "live and in action". I was regretful that I didn't get to interact with her, hold her, learn all about her natural demeanor, her abilities, and her physical struggles. My heart was both happy and sad and there was a bit of an internal battle as to where my emotions fell between those two feelings.


Fortunately, I didn't have much time to mull it over because our team had plans to visit a special needs school not far from the mission. Everyone got ready, had breakfast, and then we all took various means of transportation to get to the school (we would have walked, but we had an appointment and were running short on time). One of the missionaries hopped onto a scooter and asked if anyone wanted to ride. When no one immediately volunteered, I spoke up and climbed onto the back. We headed in the direction of the school, however we took a wrong turn along the way. Just as we made a u-turn and were headed back in the right direction, a policeman on a motorcycle instructed us to pull over. As he got off of his bike, two more policemen showed up very quickly. The missionary whom I was with turned to me just then and said, "I don't trust these guys." That didn't exactly give me the greatest feeling in the pit of my stomach, however I believed that God wasn't going to allow us to be harmed in any way. As my friend and the policemen argued back and forth, I prayed that they'd let us go. Instead they told us to get back on our bike and follow them up the road. This did not sit well with me, however I wasn't going to allow myself to start getting into fear (fear and faith are opposites). We did as they said and ended up alongside a road block where we were approached by an officer who apparently was higher up than the men we were speaking with before. His concern was that we had made a u-turn just before reaching the road block (that we hadn't seen) and it was suspicious. My friend and the man talked back and forth for a while and my friend's license was checked out, but he finally let us leave. That was a relief!


We headed back in the direction of the school and arrived shortly thereafter. As I walked into the room where all of the children and our team had assembled, I struck up a conversation with someone. Just then, Anthony appeared beside me. He looked at me and asked, "Did you see Lene?" Confused, I replied, "What?" He said, "Did you see Lene? A lady from the orphanage recognized me from last night and remembered that I had asked about Lene. She told me that she's here!" He then led me across the room to a row of lined up strollers, all filled with children who were waiting for the Americans to put on an entertaining show. He stopped in front of a particular child, and as I looked down, it took a moment for my brain to register that I was looking right into my daughter's face. She was different... she'd grown... her hair was longer... she wasn't as "baby" as she was in the two photos I'd seen of her time and time again. I looked at Anthony and I said, "This is her?" Somehow in that moment it was difficult for me to accept that this wasn't some mistake- that she really was there, that she truly was sitting in that stroller looking in my direction- and it wasn't some other little girl that someone mistook her for. He replied, "Yes!" Immediately I knelt down to eye-level with her, reached out to touch her, and began to talk to her. She responded positively. It seems like mere seconds passed before I looked up to meet the gaze of her care provider and asked if I could hold her. I must have motioned what I was asking because I am certain that the lady didn't speak English, yet she understood what I wanted. She went to pick Lene up, but paused briefly before doing so, and in Spanish she told me that Lene couldn't walk. Somehow I understood what she said, although the language barrier was thick at that moment and I technically didn't recognize the words that left her mouth. I nodded to her and held out my arms. When Lene was handed to me, I put her right into my lap and I sat down onto the floor. She took to me instantly and I took to her just as easily in return. I've heard so many stories where adoptive parents and their children don't have a connection in the beginning- that connection is forged over time and with much effort- but that was not the case for Lene and I. As she sat in my lap, digging through my purse to pull out and play with whatever she could find, I felt completely that she was my child. It was the exact same sensation as when Lincoln or one of the twins sits in my lap, their little bodies close against my chest, and my monitoring what they're getting into. It was a connection that God himself formed in a way that I do not understand... but I don't need to.

As Lene was pulling things out of my bag... trying to take drinks of my water bottle (with the lid on!)... zipping and unzipping pockets to reach inside and see what she could find... discovering my sunglasses and knowing exactly what to do with them (which was to put them on upside down, just like any young child!)... it hit me like a ton of bricks: this little girl may have Down Syndrome, but she is brilliant! She wasn't lacking any kind of intelligence in any way and she was just as spunky, curious, and playful as any "normal" child I'd interacted with. Part of me was in a sort of shock over this, as the files I've read about her say otherwise. We spent the next hour playing, laughing, and being physically close. I noticed that she had a strong desire to get up and walk and was bearing weight on her legs. Somehow I knew not to let her try because I didn't think that would go over well with her care taker. In my heart, I felt that Lene is undoubtedly capable of walking. I whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, baby, you will walk and you will RUN." Oh how I long for that day. I can see it right now so easily.


During our hour together she had my full, undivided attention. We played a lot of Peek-A-Boo because it was her very favorite. She loved taking the bandana off my head, covering both her face and mine with it, and when she'd remove it, I'd say, "BOO!" She would laugh and giggle hysterically and kept a smile on her face that was a mile wide. At one point, my best friend Calley tried to approach from behind, and Lene let her know very quickly to stay back where she was! haha She seemed to be concerned that if Calley came any closer, she might be separated from me. She didn't speak a lot, but she did say some words like, "Look!" She is capable, that's for sure. It is simply a matter of having someone to work with her consistently and to allow her the freedom to grow in all aspects.


After the hour was up, someone from the orphanage approached, smiled at me, and said something in Spanish that I assume was, "We have to go now". She pulled Lene from my lap and left very abruptly. And just like that- she was gone. My daughter, born of my heart, gone for a period of time that I have no way of measuring. Being taken care of by people that sometimes don't even know her name. Sharing a bed with another child because there's simply not enough room. Having limits that no child should have to be bound by. As she was wheeled around the corner and out of my sight, all I could do was sit in my chair and attempt to persuade my mind that I could get back to normal now. Whatever that is. I was overwhelmed with what God had just done- another miracle in this awe-inspiring story He is orchestrating on behalf of a bright, joyful, valuable little girl that He obviously loves very much. The extent that the Lord has gone to bring Lene into our family is astonishing. Even I can't quite seem to fully wrap my mind around what He is doing and all of the incredible things that I know deep inside my heart He has in store for her.


As sad as leaving Lene behind was for me, I know that this story is so very far from being over. That enchanting little girl- my daughter- is going to be placed into her family soon- this family. She's coming home. Until then I will fight on her behalf. Because that's what a mama does.