Day 1

We met our daughter today. We saw her, hung out in the same room together, and she glanced at us a few times. Poor thing, I think she knows on some level what our arrival means. She will soon lose the many “mamas” she has and will go to yet another strange place.

We were greeted at the airport by the director of the children’s home, an American Baptist missionary of 72 years who is in remarkably great shape. He has been in Iloilo for 32 years. He was accompanied by one of the administrators of the home. They took us to our hotel to get checked in and then took us to the director’s home for dinner. Their Baptist church nearby is where all the children were attending an afternoon service.

On the way we were told numerous times that Michella is very shy and that we shouldn’t worry if she doesn’t warm up to us right away. They also told us that at some point in the past week Michella kissed a photo of me and said, “Mommy.” I’m not sure what I had in my mind about what our meeting would look like (I realize now my daydreaming vacillated between scenes of rejection and immediate love), but I hadn’t considered the scenario in which any child would react to a perfect stranger that she was encouraged to interact with. Of course she would hide her face and look shy! Especially when she suddenly became the center of attention when she was brought to us surrounded by all the other kids in the home and the numerous house mamas.

She and her social worker/house parent (with everyone else trailing behind) walked in the gate and toward the front door. As soon as Michella saw one of us she immediately reached to be held by her caretaker. They walked in and she buried her face. They sat next to us and she laid her head in her caretaker’s lap. She was holding a photo of Andrey and me. It was one of the photos I sent to the adoption board a few months ago along with a family update. Michella must have gotten it a few weeks ago.

Everyone around her tried to coax her to look at us and interact. Andrey and I kept saying, “It’s okay, she doesn’t have to do anything.” The staff clearly were worried about us feeling rejected. The director kept saying things like, “Don’t worry, she’ll be better tomorrow. I promise you, it’s going to be fine.”

We were called to dinner at a large round table. Michella and her social worker sat next to me. Michella kept her head down the entire time but occasionally, (usually when we weren’t looking) would be caught stealing a glimpse of us. As soon as we turned our eyes in her direction she looked away. I thought it might be a good idea to put a little rice on Michella’s plate but she made it clear that she didn’t like that by shaking her head and retreating into the woman who was holding her.

We made small talk around the table and after Michella reluctantly ate some food that was spoon fed to her she was taken to play with the other kids in the living room. Then the director encouraged the staff to bring Michella back near to us, all the while Andrey and I are saying, “It’s okay, really. It’s fine.” But they did as they were told and Michella ended up spending the rest of the evening, which wasn’t long till we left, with her head buried in another house mama’s bosom – all the while holding our photo. There were several times throughout the evening that someone would ask to look at the photo in her hand or to hold it but Michella wouldn’t allow it. It was hers.

After a short time, she fell asleep. I think the events of this day were a lot to take in and it must have felt exhausting. We were told that just yesterday, a couple from Norway, who had arrived just three days prior, left with their new son. He is the same age as Michella. I can only imagine what must be going on in her mind and heart. She is clearly comfortable and attached at least on some level to many, if not all of the female house mamas. She calls each one of them mama.

My heart breaks for what she is going through. I am just relieved that I didn’t take her avoidance personally. My biggest fear coming into this was that it would rock me emotionally but once I was there it made perfect sense that she would be how she was. I only feel compassion for her and what she must be experiencing. I cringe when I think about her having to experience more loss in order to become part of our family. It’s hard to see a child, any child, go through something knowingly difficult and painful that you are partly responsible for. I could cry for her little broken heart right now. Sweet little Michella.

Tomorrow we’ll be picked up at 10 and taken to the children’s home. We will tour the place and have lunch then will head to the mall to hang out for a while with just Michella and two of her house mommies (one happens to be her social worker, as well). I am hoping to find some kind of a kids’ play place where we can play and begin to interact, even from a distance with some of her secure base still intact.