It Did Not Go As Planned

Random aunties.  That was the problem, and it's a big problem, although hopefully not an unsurmountable one.

We waited for our court time in the morning.  After a long wait, the judge said she was going to attend a funeral and to come back in the afternoon, but then she agreed to take the testimony of a couple of people who couldn't wait until afternoon.  She was blunt and asked hard questions, but she seemed to be fair and want what was best for the children.

We took the kids to a mall for lunch and some play time, and finally had to drag them away to return to court, which wasn't anybody's idea of a good time.  But it turned out to be worse.  When we got back to the waiting-hallway (not even really a waiting room), a couple of extra aunties had arrived.  And they "did not feel good about" the children going to America.  They were arguing with the two jiajias (grandmother-ish people; I think these were technically great-aunts) and the aunties; they were practically fighting with the father, they were fussing at the lawyer, and then they came over and lectured at Diane and I.  The other jiajias and aunties have actually been working to support the children, first of all when they were with their birth family, then they took them into their own homes, and when they couldn't care for them they found a babies' home to take over their care; and now they are delighted that the children will be cared for properly in a new family.  These aunties just showed up and declared how much they loved the children and they would miss them too much if they went to America.

So when we went back into court, the judge wanted to hear about the new people.  She took testimony from various relatives, starting with the father, who despite his illness and weakness stood up strong and tall to explain that he was here in court to allow his children to have a better life, and he absolutely stood by his decision to support having them adopted into our family.

In the end, the judge didn't seem to buy into their story, but she did give them some extra time.  The first set of aunties and jiajias continued to support the adoption, and this new set didn't, and there are a few more that continue to be missing in action, so she gave them a week to get together and work it out.  Court will reconvene in a week.

She asked the aunties questions like whether they were willing to take the girls into their home (no) or whether they would keep paying their school fees at their current school (no) or what exactly specifically they would do.  They said they were not rich, but they would do what they could.  She asked Hibiscus to identify all the people in the room she knew, which made her feel scared, but finally she managed to walk around the room and touch them if I followed and held her hand.  She identified her father accurately and without hesitation.  She found one jiajia and one auntie, when pressed, very hesitantly.  And then the judge asked where her teacher was, and she dived right over to him, with almost a smile.  Finally, when it seemed like we were leaving, I specifically asked to speak to the judge, as she had not spoken to me at all.

I said that from my perspective, it wasn't about money.  I would not have come to Uganda to adopt a child from a happy, loving family that just didn't have enough money; I would have worked to find them social services instead.  I said what I observed was that the children had not been taken care of.  They were uneducated and unmanageable and behind.  It was about taking care of the children.

The children's teacher had come as a witness for our family, to talk about how well Hibiscus was doing in school or something like that, but in the new situation he changed tacks.  He talked about the importance of education, that Hibiscus had been far behind, and that what the children needed wasn't a few thousand shillings for school fees and someone to pay for a maid, they needed love and they needed attention and they needed someone to care for them one-on-one.  And they needed love.  He spoke very clearly and strongly and eloquently.

Miss B, the orphanage director, surprised me by also speaking passionately and clearly, since she is often quiet and passive.  Not only did she describe investigating the girls' home situation (twice) and not hearing from these aunties, she gave voice to silent concerns about their current veracity.  She pointed out that they had to ask the girls' names when they came over to talk to them earlier, and that they said they visited their brother (the father) every week, and yet they didn't know how sick his partner was or that the girls were in an orphanage or under foster care, so she doubted that their story was true.

The judge reiterated several times that we needed to find the best solution for the children, and that they need to be given proper care.  She didn't want the family fighting, so she told them to speak amongst themselves, have a family meeting, and they had a week to work out a solution, or she would make a decision on behalf of the children.



And as for me, and as for now.... I haven't yet stepped into my "parent coming to adopt" shoes, or maybe I walked past them months ago now.  I suppose I should be freaking out about logistics or what is going to happen next, or sad that we didn't just have the court case finished in the morning at the proper time before these troublemakers showed up, or upset about our coming-home time frame being all ruined.

But the shoes I'm in are just my plain old "mom" shoes.  Because I'm the only mom these girls know right now.  (At another moment this morning during the birth mother's testimony, the judge asked Hibiscus to point to her mother.  She leaned on my lap a long time, confused about what to do, while the judge encouraged her to point to whoever she called "mama" and I finally whispered it was okay to point to me, and she did.  Then the judge asked if she had another mama, and she was overcome by shyness but pointed to the birth mother, whom she recognizes.  The judge asked her name.  She didn't know and couldn't remember.  The judge asked her my name, and she said it right away.)  They came home with me tonight, and they snuggle their faces into my arm for comfort after a long and difficult day, and they ask me questions and they trust the answers.  And as a mom, I'm just affronted that these ladies came along to express all this concern and "love" for these girls, that gets in the way of us being a family and actually loving each other.

So where were you when Hibiscus screamed every night until she threw up?

So where were you when Buttercup developed her terror of anyone holding a stick?

So where were you when Hibiscus threw a fit in the middle of downtown and was laying in the street... or the other time she did that, or the next one?

So where were you when Buttercup was waking up several times a night, every night, just needing to be held and comforted... because she had never had a chance to be comforted as a baby?

So where were you when Hibiscus was supposedly learning her manners and cultural mores, so that as a child of six she managed to insult and affront every single Ugandan adult within moments of meeting them?

So where were you when Buttercup was dramatically underweight and showing all the obvious signs of malnutrition?

So whereare you when Hibiscus is sobbing her guts out with sadness and fear, or when Buttercup's eyes go bleary and blank with the memories she can't bear to face?


Because I can tell you where I was.  I was right there with my girls.