Dear Spaniards,
I have no idea who you are. The only reason I know you exist at all is a brief mention in court by the judge: "You are aware that a Spanish couple petitioned to adopt the child and then rejected her?" Was it that harsh in the judges own words or just in translation? Was it that harsh in real life?
When we got a picture of her in our referral package there was not an instantaneous feeling of "this is my child." I must admit it was closer to, "oh, my. She looks so angry." And our first visit with her at the orphanage supported that first impression, so I suppose I can understand why you decided not to adopt her.
But....
How could you turn your back on this child? Were you insane? Really? I mean what a woman she will be. Did you pay any attention to her spirit? She is fierce. She is strong. She will not yield. She is amazing!
That first visit in the mid-spring of 2007 was interesting. We brought two things with us other than our camera: a little black stuffed dog and some blocks. The dog was for her to play with, the blocks were for us to test her - how was her development? We played stack the blocks, which she did, but she also chose to throw the blocks at my head, and she had good aim for a 15 month-old - and power!
Did you do this too, Spaniards? Did it frighten you?
We also walked. She wouldn't hold hands and insisted on walking where she wanted to go, which was back to her play group. Over and over we had to turn her around and try to interact with her. But she had her own ideas and the most determined look on her face. Perhaps the anger in the photo wasn't anger after all, but was simply determination to get back to what she wanted to do.
Did she do this to you too, Spaniards? Did you fear you couldn't control her? You couldn't. God knows I can't.
We could have rejected her then and there also. But there was something there that let us see past the anger and the sores on her head from the infections and parasites: She had spunk. Nobody is going to tell this girl what she can't do. Nobody is going to hold her back from her dreams. I hope she will let me guide her, but I know I'll never be able to set her destination.
She is my daughter. From that first day until the end of time. How could she not be?
And even on days like today, when she screams and stomps her feet insisting on wearing the same dirty clothes that she wore the day before, I sit back and smile at her power. I also remember that she was rejected twice before we came to her and realize that she is wounded with a deep fear and may always wonder when the other shoe will drop. I hate you for that, Spaniards, I really do. How could you have hurt her like that?
So tonight, I will snuggle with her and listen to stories of her day and tell her my stories and let her know that she was my choice and that I will continue to choose her as part of my family again today. And tomorrow. And every day forward.
I have no idea who you are. The only reason I know you exist at all is a brief mention in court by the judge: "You are aware that a Spanish couple petitioned to adopt the child and then rejected her?" Was it that harsh in the judges own words or just in translation? Was it that harsh in real life?
When we got a picture of her in our referral package there was not an instantaneous feeling of "this is my child." I must admit it was closer to, "oh, my. She looks so angry." And our first visit with her at the orphanage supported that first impression, so I suppose I can understand why you decided not to adopt her.
But....
How could you turn your back on this child? Were you insane? Really? I mean what a woman she will be. Did you pay any attention to her spirit? She is fierce. She is strong. She will not yield. She is amazing!
That first visit in the mid-spring of 2007 was interesting. We brought two things with us other than our camera: a little black stuffed dog and some blocks. The dog was for her to play with, the blocks were for us to test her - how was her development? We played stack the blocks, which she did, but she also chose to throw the blocks at my head, and she had good aim for a 15 month-old - and power!
Did you do this too, Spaniards? Did it frighten you?
We also walked. She wouldn't hold hands and insisted on walking where she wanted to go, which was back to her play group. Over and over we had to turn her around and try to interact with her. But she had her own ideas and the most determined look on her face. Perhaps the anger in the photo wasn't anger after all, but was simply determination to get back to what she wanted to do.
Did she do this to you too, Spaniards? Did you fear you couldn't control her? You couldn't. God knows I can't.
We could have rejected her then and there also. But there was something there that let us see past the anger and the sores on her head from the infections and parasites: She had spunk. Nobody is going to tell this girl what she can't do. Nobody is going to hold her back from her dreams. I hope she will let me guide her, but I know I'll never be able to set her destination.
She is my daughter. From that first day until the end of time. How could she not be?
And even on days like today, when she screams and stomps her feet insisting on wearing the same dirty clothes that she wore the day before, I sit back and smile at her power. I also remember that she was rejected twice before we came to her and realize that she is wounded with a deep fear and may always wonder when the other shoe will drop. I hate you for that, Spaniards, I really do. How could you have hurt her like that?
So tonight, I will snuggle with her and listen to stories of her day and tell her my stories and let her know that she was my choice and that I will continue to choose her as part of my family again today. And tomorrow. And every day forward.
And that is why, dear Spaniards, I thank God each and every day for your lack of vision, your fear. Without that, she wouldn't be here to frustrate me to the edge of my sanity and thrill me with the joy of her being. She is my daughter, not yours, and I am grateful.
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