Adoption Stories

The Thornton's Story

     It’s hard to say when the idea of adoption became a part of our family. I think like most couples, we had talked about it often, just not on a personal level. We had friends who had adopted. We talked about how so many children waited for a mommy and daddy. We talked about, “maybe someday we should do foster care.” Or maybe someday, “we should adopt a baby.” The decision did not come after months of infertility testing, as it does for some couples. We had never actively “tried” to get pregnant. We talked about having children, or starting a family....someday. But with my husband’s Navy career moving us about, there never seemed to be a “good” time.
     In the summer of 1996, while living in Charleston, South Carolina, Mike was offered a short term job in Haiti that he couldn’t pass up. He left in mid-July, while I stayed behind in Charleston. It all seemed scary to me. I had never been out of the United States, except for Canada and a cruise to the Bahamas. Mike called every Sunday night with all kinds of stories that seemed to only happen on TV for me. I could hear in his voice that he was developing a passion for the people of Haiti. One little boy he mentioned often, Patrick, was a “shoe shine” expert working his “beat” right outside the walls of the military camp. He did a good job, Mike said. So Mike would buy him shoe polish from the Navy store so he could make more money.
One Sunday night in late October, Mike blurted out, “hey, what do think about me bringing home a baby from here?”
     Many thoughts raced through my mind, and I stammered, “well, you know that I am ready to be a mother. But I don’t want you do to it because you feel sorry for them.”
     “That’s not it at all,” he replied, “I have already talked to the Chaplain about it. He knows some missionaries here that run an orphanage. I am going to meet them. Talk to them about it. See what we have to do on your end, and we will talk about it next week.”
     So, I started calling adoption agencies. I talked to some good friends. We discussed race issues, adoption issues and just plain PARENT issues. The process was long. The approval from INS took months. We were scheduled to leave Charleston in December and move to California. There was no way that everything could be completed on time. We would have to wait. I privately wondered if Mike’s passion would die once he returned to the states.
     While we waited......
     During the next few months, I continued to talk to people about adoption and the baby we would be getting. I read all the books I could find on adopting internationally. Mike and I talked on the phone every week. We talked about all the hopes and dreams we had for our child. Mike started educating me on Haiti. Sending me recipes to try and telling me all about the country and culture. And we waited.
     The move to California came in January. We started talking to agencies all over the state. Many tried to talk us into going with a different country. Haitian adoptions are rare, we were told. Many agencies would not accept the challenge. We began to feel discouraged.
     After tons of phone calls, we signed a contract with Across the World Adoptions in April. Sent in fingerprints and medical records. Dished out hundreds of dollars AND hundreds of prayers. Got our homestudy done and our INS paperwork. Talked to the missionaries via email about our eagerness to be parents. AND continued to wait.
After you have a child, all the frustrations seem to fade. But during the waiting game, little problems are nightmares. We had our share of lost paperwork and smudged fingerprints. Mike had to travel for a few weeks, which added to MY frustration. And we still could not understand why immigration had not approved us yet. We had never been arrested. We had been married to each other since we were 19. We were in fact, pretty cut and dry BORING! What could be the hold up?
     Everyday for weeks on end, I would race in the house from work to check the email. Then the big day came. September 4th, 1997. An email from the missionaries, John and Beth McHoul, read as follows:           

Mike and Melda, I am pleased to tell you of a little boy named Hebreux Jules. He was born on July 7, 1997, in a little village near the town of Jacmel. His mother, Jeanette Lamour, died on July 17th, 1997. We have had him for a couple of weeks but I just got his lab work back and all is fine. We still have a physical to do but he seems quite healthy. Beth actually took him directly from the hospital where he had spent several days close to death as the result of dehydration. He now is doing well and drinking formula with gusto. Let me know what you think? Send to me your address and I will send to you the one photo that we have so far. I will get his physical done in a couple of days. Today we did his passport photos and we will make his passport application on Monday. I can’t proceed further on this legal work until we have identified a family for him.                     Prayerfully yours,                    John

     Let me know what you think? I think we have a son! Mike was still at work when I got the email and I wanted to run out in the street and scream, “IT’S A BOY!!!” When Mike got home and I told him, he couldn’t say a word. You could see the big smile spread across his entire face. He beamed and then said, “a son”. Now we have to name him something so we can tell everybody!
     We decided on Michael that night I think. We also decided we liked Hebreux, and kept it for his middle name. Michael Hebreux Thornton. Born July 7th, 1997. He was a few days shy of 2 months old. I wanted to go to Haiti the next day.
     But the wait continued.....
     Trouble getting Michael’s passport sent me into a frenzy. My little boy was growing up without me!
     “He needs me,” I would say to Mike. “The passport will come,” Mike would reply. “Don’t worry”
     Well, worried I was. It was early October, a month had passed, and I had stared at a picture on the frig long enough. Furthermore, Mike was getting ready to leave on another military job to Cuba. “I am going to Haiti without you.” I announced to Mike one evening. “ARE YOU CRAZY?” he retorted. “Haiti is dangerous!” “NO, I am not crazy, you are leaving, the passport is still not ready and I am going down there to wait with my son until the passport comes. Besides, I can stay with John and Beth. They will take care of me.” “You are not,” he stated.
“Oh yes I am. There is nothing to keep me here when you leave, and I am certainly not waiting until you get back in 7 months to go down there and get Michael! If I have to stay in Haiti until he graduates high school, I will. But I am not coming back to the states without him.”
     And so it was on November 4, 1997, Mike left on a military flight for Cuba and I left on American Airlines for Haiti. God took care of everything after that step of faith. I met a nice Haitian man on the plane, who lives in Los Angeles, who just so happened to have a cousin working at the passport office. He wrote me a letter to give to his cousin, and I got the passport two days later.
     The missionaries picked me up at the airport, we went to their house, and straight up to the babies’ room. We walked in the room and all the nannies stared at me while Beth talked to them in Kreyol. I recognized Michael. He had on the same outfit that he did in our first picture of him. I also recognized two of the words Beth spoke, “mama Marcus” (which was what Michael was called there), then I saw some smiles. Beth ask if I wanted to hold him, and I did, but I felt strange taking him from his nanny Seilman, who had cared for him for 3 months. Beth said something to her, and she got up from the rocking chair and handed him to me. He looked the same, I think I was happy, but honestly, I don’t remember feeling any emotion at all, except maybe relief. My journey was over, my mission accomplished, I WAS now a mother.
     Up to date.......
     It has now been over a year since my trip to Haiti. Michael is so much a part of our lives, that we can’t remember what we did without him. It sounds so “cliché” doesn’t it? He has grown and changed, and every milestone from cutting teeth to walking has been a bittersweet memory. You see, I have come full circle with so much that my mother told me growing up. Including, “I wish you could stay little forever.” Growing up, means you have to give your child freedoms. You have to let them make mistakes. You can’t protect them forever.
     I have also learned things about being a multi-cultural, multi-racial, “hey, your baby doesn’t look like you,” family. The most important? I think education. Teaching people how to react to adoption has become very important to me. A child that looks different is no less my “real” child than a child that looks like me. And he is by no means less loved.
     I have also learned about really dry skin, and curly hair and always using a flash when taking a picture indoors. (or you won’t see any facial features except teeth!) Dark skin children DO need sunscreen and sand is really hard to get out of their hair. Stand close to your child in grocery stores, parks or zoos, or someone will try to take your child to the lost and found! (because they didn’t see a mommy that looked like him.)
      So the adventure continues and I am still loving every minute of it. I do miss all the cuddle time that you get from babies. Michael is now on the go every waking hour. But it is fun to watch him explore, be excited about a book, and best of all, here him call, “MOMMY” when he needs me. And when those times occur, he doesn’t mind at all that we don’t look alike.

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