September 3, 2008

An excerpt from the journal I am keeping for Duc:

I didn’t know what to expect on this day.  I had planned on it for so long—I dreamed of the moment and wondered if I would be shocked speechless or if I would be hysterical with joy.  I guess it was a little of both.

 

Somehow when I woke up this morning I knew today was “the day”.  I had called my coordinator in the morning around 8:30-9 am just asking if I could get your info today, but he told me it would be later today or tomorrow.  I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it.  I had never felt more excited or anxious in all my life—it was like being 8 years-old again and the feeling of wrapping all my birthdays and Christmases into one day, one moment.   

 

At 1:56 pm my cell phone rang and it was the call.  I had been planning for this moment for so long, but I hadn’t considered I might shake.  My hands were shaking so badly I could barely log into my email account.  My coordinator kept talking about the specifics—what would be included in the Fed Ex’d package, about your health, about the orphanage in general.  I kept interrupting, “Pictures, Carl, Pictures!”.  He started to tell me your birthday and I interrupted him and told him I already knew it was May 19th.  “How did you know?” he asked.  I told him, “I just knew.  I’ve always known.  Just like I know he is in Da Nang.”

 

I rushed down the hall with my computer and phone still waiting for the photos but even more on the verge of tears.  I called my dad and there was no answer on his office phone so I asked the plant operator to page him.  He seemed somewhat surprised to hear from me and even more to learn that you were, indeed, real.  He asked if I had seen your photo yet and when I checked my email again, it was there.  I tried to click on it to open it, but to be honest, my eyes were too blurred with tears and my hands and legs were shaking so bad I had a hard time downloading your photo. 

 

Your skin was a beautiful caramel color and you were all arms and legs.  I had prepared myself for a scrawny, pale, sickly, frail child that looked anxious, nervous or scared.  I wasn’t prepared for the beautiful boy in front of me.  In my wildest dreams I would never have imagined that I would be matched with the healthiest, happy, chubby baby that I saw in those photographs. 

I was crying hysterically as I looked through each photo memorizing each curve of your face.  I called my mom next and she shrieked with joy and within a few minutes I could hear her running for the car.  She was so excited that she couldn’t wait to see you! 

I have decided to keep my referral photos private—just for those of us that were involved in that moment, but I will share some of the photos that Chennie took of us while in Da Nang.  My beautiful son.  It amazes me that it has been a year since I first saw your face.  It is your face that pushes me onward when I am tired and I don’t feel good.  It is your face I think of when life is difficult and I feel frustrated.  It is your face that still has the ability to bring me to tears of joy.  It is your face that prompts me to strive for more, to do more, to be better.