What we remember about the G&R day

It seems so long ago, the days before the babies. But this is what we remember about G&R day.

We were in the van at about 6:30 on the G&R day, after taking some out the door photos in front of the Hong Ngoc--Marci, with Betty her mom, her daughter Katie, and her son Robbie, and Peggy and I. Nancy came as the World Child translator and facilitator, with Jenny along, as well. Our photos turned out pretty dark, and I guess it was dark.

The drive was a repeat of the Friday trip. We were much less interested in the scenery and the drive. We weren't really sure what the schedule would be. Orphanage first? Right to the ceremony? We also didn't really know how it would all happen. It seemed to be one of those "need to know" days.

We drove through Lang Son for a while. Nancy made a phone call, it seemed, or else she decided we were lost. We stopped for directions. Then we doubled back and eventually made our way to the Ministry of Jusice building at 9:45 or so.

We moved quickly into the building and up the stairs to the second floor, where we were ushered into a meeting room. We carried a lot of stuff to the back of the room--bags with various gifts. In the meeting room there was a statue of Ho Chi Minh and slogan banners hung from the walls, with a big meeting table. Along the walls were chairs. In some of the chairs sat small groups of Vietnamese. In whispers, Jenny told us that these might actually be the birth families. Nancy had disappeared. We asked about taking video or photos; Jenny suggested we wait. When Nancy returned and Jenny asked her, we were told no--no cameras right now, it is a solemn occasion.

It seemed that more families had arrived.

Nancy eventually called Marci out of the room, and she disappeared for a period--between 15 and 30 minutes, perhaps.

We watched the families. Perhaps the babies and caregivers arrived. It was two weeks ago, now, and I sort of forget. Plus, emotions had begun to build at that point.

A few moments after Marci returned, Peggy and I were called. We entered a small office near the meeting room. Ms. Trieu, as I think her name is spelled, sat at a desk. With her was one of the women who had been waiting with a family--Au Su Nghiep's mother.

With all of us gathered around the desk closely, Ms. Trieu went through a series of questions with her. Nancy translated for us. Then Ms. Trieu asked questions of us--names and birth dates of the babies, our own information.

Through Nancy, we spoke to Ms. Trieu. Then we spoke to Au Su Nghiep's mother. That conversation, it seems, should be private.

Then Nguyen Minh Tam Thi's mother arrived. There was a similar drill with her.

Ms. Trieu spoke to all of us directly and clearly at one point, as Nancy translated: This adoption is not for the benefit of the birth mothers, or the adopting parents. The adoption has been approved because of the best interests of the babies.

As the interviews took place, Ms. Trieu's phone rang several time. She answered quickly and efficiently. She also had a cell phone that rang several times; she handled that in a similar way. She had a tape recorder that she turned on and off during the interviews. She also took notes. In front of her was a complete file on the babies. Handwritten notes seemed to document their cases and the "difficult situation" of the birth mothers. That was what we were told. Au Su Nghiep's mother had chosen to give him up for adoption because she faced a "difficult situation." Nguyen Minh Tam Thi's mother also found herself with a "difficult situation."

Ms. Trieu also had what we recognized as copies and translations of documents we had completed months ago at home in Chicago--perhaps even including our home study and dossier.

I've been factual here about the interview. It wasn't as easy or efficient on our end or for the birth mothers as it sounds here. Ms. Trieu was all business and extremely professional in what, as you can imagine, was an emotional situation.

Once the interview was complete, we returned to the meeting room. The babies had arrived at this point and the caregivers were there. The orphanage director arrived.

Ms. Trieu, I think it was, made a statement about the events that would take place--adoptions of four babies whose mothers faced "difficult situations." The orphanage director made a statement--and also a province official, I believe. Then I had to give a speech. Nancy had told me that there was a meeting to follow for the officials, and I should speak briefly. It had been an emotional morning already. But I think I was pretty coherent.

What I said, I believe, was along these lines: These babies would show the people of the United States the love and hearts of the people of the Vietnam. There was clearly a feeling of loss in the room, for the mothers. Peggy and I had known such a loss, because we had lost a baby once, too. We promise to educate the babies, teach them to be good people, and teach them about Vietnam. We thanked the people who had done so much work to care for the babies and make the adoptions possible. The babies would fill a hole in our hearts. We hoped that for the mothers and those who experienced loss today that life would bring them a joy in the future like the one they had made possible for us.

At least that is what I think I said. I am not sure whether that was brief, or not.

The birth mothers were invited to speak. Au Su Nghiep's mother asked us to care for him and to bring him back to visit Vietnam in the future.

The ceremony itself involved us signing papers and a book. Then we stood with Au Su Nghiep's family, and his mother handed him to us. Both groups--on the birth family side and on our side--took photos. We repeated that process with Nguyen Minh Tam Thi's mother. Again, there were many photographs.

Then Marci went through the same process to adopt her two babies.

After the ceremony, it was a bit emotional. There was a hurried collection and sorting out of the gifts we had brought--for the orphanage, officials, and caregivers. We also had gifts for the mothers. We were concerned that one mother had left without a gift. There was some informal contact between the families as we left the room--and a few last kisses from family members.

Nancy ushered us down the stairs quickly. Peggy and I climbed into the van with two babies in our arms. Marci's family delayed a bit. They wanted to take more pictures outside the ministry. I think I remember a street vendor or two approaching the van, even. The scene had gotten a bit crazy. Nancy became a bit insistent, and we left somewhat abruptly. We headed directly out of the city--no visit to the orphanage.

Jenny explained later that the ministry officials had been anxious--even insistent--to have us leave. It had been a bit "thick," emotionally.

When I apologized to Nancy that my own tears or words had contributed to the emotion, she just smiled back at me.

She had done this many times, I told her. Was it any easier for her, the emotions of the G&R? I asked.

She shook her head.