The week our kids met their parents.
Nineteen years ago, El Dorado International Airport, Bogota Colombia.
“Do you think we’ll ever come back?”
That was certainly an interesting question for my wife to ask me at that moment. Cathy and I had been in Bogota for twenty-eight days, finally heading home with a brand new baby girl. We were sitting in the airport with our four month-old newly-adopted daughter, Isabelle and our son Max (adopted from Colombia three years earlier.) We’d just gone through our third security checkpoint. In 1998, Colombia was universally recognized as the kidnapping capitol of the world. With two small Colombian children in tow, they were not going to let us out easily.
“Come back?” I asked. “We’ve been here for a month waiting for Isabelle’s adoption papers to go through. All I want to do is leave and get back to normal life. All I want to do is not have to order pizza in Spanish.”
“I’m pretty sure pizza in Spanish is ‘pizza,’” she said.
“Fair enough,” I said. “I don’t know if we’ll ever come back. But if I had to guess, I’d probably say no. Why would we?”
**
Winter, 2017.
“I think it’s time.”
So, a whole lot has changed over the past two decades. Divorce. New relationships. 9/11. The Cubs actually won the World Series. Mr. Trump moved to Washington. While Cathy and I ended our marriage, we managed to fight through the hard part of our divorce and have found friendship as we navigate the inexplicable world of parenthood.
“I just think it’s the right moment to take this trip,” said Cathy. “Max is a semester away from graduating college. Isabelle is about to be a sophomore. We’ve talked about it long enough. They’re both as ready as they’ll ever be.”
From day one, we’ve embraced Colombia. We have flags. We cheer for the national team during the World Cup. We mock people when we see it spelled wrong. We root for Colombian weightlifters and cyclists and fencers during the Olympics. We like Modern Family, Shakira, Juan Valdez and his burro. My daughter volunteers at a camp for adoptees from Central and South America. We’ve wrapped our arms around the country as best we can. But shouting “Go Colombia!” from Ohio isn’t exactly the same as staring down at the sprawl of Bogota from Monseratte, or walking the open air markets of Medellin on a warm summer day.
“Of course we can do all the touristy things,” said Cathy, “but more importantly, we can try and find their birthparents.”
Ah, the B word. Often spoken of, but never seen.
We’ve made it abundantly clear to Max and Isabelle that we have the utmost respect for their birthparents. In some ways, we’ve placed them on a pedestal above us. The fact these people chose to give birth and allowed their children to have lives they felt they couldn’t provide is an amazing testament to bravery, compassion and love.
Our kid’s birthparents are incredible, remarkable people and we’ve worked hard to celebrate what they’ve done for us.
Could we actually find them? We know other families who’ve taken a similar trip and we had the name of someone in Bogota who facilitated reunions between adoptees and their birthparents. So in theory, yes we could find them.
Do my kids want to find them? Of course they do. They have a natural curiosity to know more about who made them. What do they look like? Do they have other kids? How did this whole thing go down? Do they ever think about me? I have a vivid memory of Max sitting at the kitchen table when he was ten, determined to translate a document from the orphanage detailing the story of his adoption. He gave up halfway through because lunch was ready.
Hey when you’re ten, determination only goes so far.
Cathy is right; it’s time to take this trip.
We owe our kids a chance to visit the place they’ve always known and don’t remember. We owe their birthparents the opportunity to say yes to meeting their children.
We owe it to ourselves to say thank you.
And as an added bonus, at least this time I know how to say pizza in Spanish.
**
We sat down with the kids and told them what we were thinking. Needless to say, they were ecstatic.
We also talked about the fact that if we started down this path, there was a very real possibility that both of them may be nothing more than a secret in their birthparent’s lives. Adoption was twenty-two years ago for Max and nineteen for Isabelle. There was a chance most people in their birthparent’s circles didn’t even know they existed.
And while they acknowledged that and still wanted to move forward, you had to wonder: did they really know what it meant?
“So just to clarify, the people who gave birth to me not only gave me up, they never told anyone about me. Interesting.” That’s pretty hard stuff for anyone to wrap their head around.
To add another element of intrigue to the trip, my girlfriend Jackie was part of the travel plans. She has two adopted children herself, and recognizes many of the challenges we’ll face. While she gets along well with my kids and Cathy, she also clearly saw the potential for high drama and some very personal, private experiences which could unfold. She went out of her way to say, “I just want to have a reality check and say that if there are things you or your kids or Cathy aren’t comfortable with me being involved in, I totally get it.”
So, everybody was in. In a few short months, our children might be visiting the bravest people they’ll ever meet.
**
**
We started with Cathy reaching out to Alejandro Munoz Garcon, the gentlemen in Colombia who facilitates these reunions. (Note: in order to respect the privacy of others, I’ve changed everyone’s names other than ours, Alejandro, his wife Lira, and his assistant, Daniela.)
Subject: MAX AND ISABELLE STRAUSS
Date: Saturday, February 15, 2017, 10:17 AM
Dear Mr. Munoz:
I have received your name from others you have worked with in Ohio. We have two adopted children from Colombia and we are planning on visiting Colombia in August. We are interested in starting the process to find their birthparents.
This is the information we have:
Our daughter Isabelle was born in Bogota on April 30, 1998. Her parent’s names are CECILIA STELLA CORONADO R. and ALBERTO ALBEIRO HERNANDEZ. They were in college and we have no idea if they are still together or still in Bogota.
Our son Max was born in Medellin on April 25, 1995. His mother’s name is BERNICE CECILIA MARIN CORTEZ. We have no information on his birth father. We have very little information other than this.
Can you advise me as to what we would need to do to initiate this process?
Thank you so much. I look forward to hearing back from you,
Cathy Strauss
**
**
On Sat, 2/25/17, Alejandro Muñoz <presidente@********.org> wrote:
Subject: MAX AND ISABELLE STRAUSS INVESTIGATIONS.
To: strauss@***********.com
Date: Saturday, February 25, 2017, 6:17 PM
Dear CATHERINE, MAX and ISABELLE STRAUSS:
Thank you for trusting in our Foundation. After reviewing your cases and the documents you sent to us to start the research process and the reunion with the biological mothers and Isabelle´s father BERNICE CECILIA MARIN CORTEZ, CECILIA STELLA CORONADO. and ALBERTO ALBEIRO HERNANDEZ, I need to inform you the following:
I can start investigating to know if the biological mothers are still alive, find out where they live and how their medical condition and social life are. Then, with our methodology, we could help them and our experts would talk with them and prepare them in case they want to reunite with you.
2. If the Biological mothers and father agree to have the reunion we will get their DNA and send to you for you to choose the laboratory to analyze the test. This way you are going to be sure that this process is all right.
We would start with the investigation as soon as possible. We will wait
for your comments and look forward to helping you.
Sincerely, ALEJANDRO MUÑOZ GARZON Founder and President
**
**
This was suddenly very real. I kept saying I hoped either both kids meet their biological parents or neither does. The thought of only one of them reconnecting churned in my stomach. Cathy clearly echoed my concern. Truthfully, the angst is grounded in the fact that we’re far more worried about finding Max’s birth family than Isabelle’s.
Because their adoption paths were so different (private attorney versus a non-profit group, different cities, different orphanages), we have remarkably different levels of information: for Isabelle, a great deal. Max, not so much.
Back in 1998, Isabelle’s birthparents were two college students who didn’t have the means to support a child. We have their names and black and white copies of their identification cards. It didn’t strike me they would be difficult to find. I actually searched on Facebook and was absolutely positive I had found them. For the 4,279th time in my life, I was wrong.
For Max, we have limited information on his birthmother and no information at all on the father. The story we were told is that she was a single woman, she found herself pregnant, she gave him up and well, that’s basically the gist of what we know. No photos. Nothing other than her name. Frankly, because the story is so vague, I’ve often wondered if it was just that, a story. A recycled, generic tale which had been rehashed countless times to at least offer some semblance of an explanation to the adoptive families.
Regardless, given the information we have, it seemed likely we would be able to find Isabelle’s birthparents. Max’s birth mom? Who knows if what we know is even real?
There were some costs involved in starting the process with Alejandro, a few hundred dollars, nothing outlandish. But absolutely worth it to see what he could find.
The door was now officially open. How this would unfold was anyone’s guess.
From: Alejandro Muñoz <presidente@********.org>
Date: April 29, 2017 at 11:23:03 AM EDT
To: Cathy Strauss <strauss@**********.com>
Subject: RE: GOOD NEWS STRAUSS FAMILY. !!!
Ms. CATHY STRAUSS:
With great joy I want to confirm you that we have found CECILIA STELLA and ALBERTO ALBEIRO, the biological parents of your daughter Isabelle.
They are still married but have not lived together for a few years. They have two other children, ages 14 and 9. On Thursday night I spoke to them separately and each of them expressed joy and deep gratitude for you. They consider you the parents of their daughter whom they highly respect and thank. They agreed with the reunion.
They remembered that Isabella is celebrating her birthday tomorrow, April 30. Alberto shared with us the photo that he has kept in his wallet for 19 years.
We continue working intensely to find Max`s biological mother. The address we got of her is not updated.
We wish a blessed and Happy Birthday to Isabella.
Cordially,
ALEJANDRO MUÑOZ GARZON
Founder and President — FIPER –
The email was incredibly touching. Clearly she has not left their hearts. There’s not a person I showed this email to or shared the story with who didn’t cry when they read the line about her birthfather carrying her picture for all these years. It actually became a bit of a game for me.
“Hey would you like to cry? Read this.”
Isabelle’s a lot like me — dry. Sarcastic. Not the kind of person who shows a great deal of emotion. But this was different — I was pleasantly surprised with how excited she was. Of course her first reaction was, “What the heck, why hasn’t she been carrying a picture of me, too?” And while I was worried she might think, “So…they kept those two but let me go,” she recognized the challenges of their situation at the time and was genuinely thrilled to learn she had birth siblings.
Exciting news, to say the least. But when it was followed by a few weeks of silence, our initial concern was holding true: they may not find Max’s birthmother.
On the morning of May 18th, I got a text from Cathy. “Check email.”
On Thu, 5/18/17, Alejandro Muñoz <presidente@********.org> wrote:
Subject: WE FOUND BERNICE CECILIA CORTEZ MARIN.
To: “Cathy Strauss” <strauss@**********.com>
Date: Thursday, May 18, 2017, 10:35 PM
Mrs. CATHY STRAUSS:
I want to confirm that yesterday afternoon we met BERNICE CECILIA CORTEZ MARIN, who lives in a small hamlet three hours away from Medellin.
The woman located is not one of the people referred by Facebook since she does not have access to a computer and is a humble woman. We located and identified her thanks to documentary follow-ups made by our investigative team. When we could talk to BERNICE CECILIA, she was very receptive but confirms that she is having a very difficult time with her husband, who is already facing a divorce and separation process. Therefore she does not want any kind of pressure, she wants to decide little by little and solve her problems.
BERNICE CECILIA has a younger daughter with her current partner and confirms that she never told anyone about the existence of a child and less of his adoption, since she was under 18 years old when gave her son for adoption. She understands that her son wants to meet her, but ask for a
time to lower so many pressures she has at this time.
She lives in a little hamlet almost three hours away from Medellin. There we also found the support of a priest and a nun who runs a convent, who will accompany, guide and help BERNICE CECILIA. We have noticed that BERNICE CECILIA is a woman between 35 and 40 years old, 1.65 meters tall, wears glasses and is brunette. She did not want any picture taken. She acknowledges that she had her son and that she is also interested in closing that chapter to be able to have a calmer life.
We know that her husband works in a farm, she is a homemaker and takes care of a little girl who apparently goes to school. We will continue to support at a prudent distance the requirements and communications of BERNICE CECILIA. We have also told her that her son wishes supported by his adoptive
parents are to visit her next August.
I am pleased to be able to deliver this part of victory and confirm you that we have located all three people requested and we are already in stages of waiting and preparation.
Best regards,
ALEJANDRO MUÑOZ GARZON
Founder and President — FIPER –
**
Wow. They found her. This was obviously a shock, both to us and to her. Would she be willing to warm up to meeting him? Is she capable? Imagine keeping a secret for two-plus decades and suddenly someone knocks on your door and says, “Hello. So, do you remember the baby you had twenty-two years ago that no one knows about — including your abusive husband? Well, your son wants to stop by and meet you. Are you OK with that?” Max has never been a spur-of-the-moment kind of person. So it’s not surprise his birthmother wasn’t going to immediately say, “Sure, let’s get together. I’ll bake!”
Exciting yes, but incredibly open-ended. Absolutely no guarantee there would be any sort of engagement. Nevertheless, a huge step. Knowing the trip is still a couple of months away, we’re optimistic Bernice will agree to a meeting. But even if she doesn’t, there’s still a level of comfort that we have, on some level, found her.
Most importantly, even beyond finding her, was the clear and obvious question that needed to be answered:
How big is a hamlet?
From Wikipedia:
A hamlet is a small human settlement. In different jurisdictions and geographies, hamlets may be the size of a town, village or parish, be considered a smaller settlement or subdivision of a larger, or be treated as a satellite entity to a larger settlement. The word and concept of a hamlet have roots in the Anglo-Norman settlement of England, where the old French hemelet came to apply to small human settlements. In British geography, a hamlet is considered smaller than a village and distinctly without a church.
And in case you’re wondering about size and where a hamlet ranks on the population scale (only because I was):
Town — a town has a population of 1,000 to 20,000.
Village –a village generally does not have many services, most likely a church or only a small shop or post office. The population of a village varies; however, the average population can range from hundreds to thousands.
Hamlet — a hamlet has a tiny population (<100) and very few (if any) services, and few buildings.
Isolated dwelling — an isolated dwelling would only have 1 or 2 buildings or families in it. It would have negligible services, if any.
Somewhere between a village and an isolated dwelling lies Max’s birthmother. I wonder if she has his picture in her wallet, too.
**
We told Max on a Friday night. He had had a bit of rough day and his face lit up. I read the email to him and I could see him come to life. Very few times are you in the middle of a moment and recognize this is something you’ll never forget.
Cathy told me he printed out the email and stared at it for a while. About an hour later he texted me and said: “Dad, do you have any idea how big a hamlet is? I just looked it up.”
I don’t care who gave birth to him. He’s clearly my son.
**
The joy of finding Bernice evolved into greater stress as the time neared for our trip. There was still no confirmation of a reunion and knowing she was out there but not knowing what she was thinking was weighing heavily. Cathy reached out to Alejandro to see if there were any updates:
On Thu, 6/20/17, Alejandro Muñoz <presidente@********.org> wrote:
Subject: MORE INFORMATION
To: “Cathy Strauss” <strauss@**********.com>
Date: Thursday, June 20, 2017, 10:35 PM
GREETINGS Ms. CATHY STRAUSS,
I have just returned from Bogota where I have met twice with the biological parents of your daughter Sophie and they have been prepared for the family reunion.
On the other hand I want to confirm that the biological mother of your son Max is kept in the strictest silence. Due to my experience, this means that she is waiting for us to go to her to take the child and attend the reunion.
Very cordially,
ALEJANDRO MUÑOZ GARZON
Founder and President — FIPER –
God bless Alejandro, who’s now on his third name for our daughter — Isabelle then Isabella, now Sophie.
So I had a huge problem with his idea of “going to her to take the child.” Basically what Alejandro was saying was, “His birthmother’s not sure. But if you bring Max to her, there’s a pretty good chance she’ll want to see him.” To me, the worst possible scenario was driving three hours to the hamlet, building up expectations only to learn she chose to opt out.
Cathy, Isabelle, Jackie all agreed. The last thing anyone wanted to do was raise Max’s hope, only to have him crushed at the doorstep.
Even Max showed some self-awareness and was grounded in realistic expectations. “It’s OK,” he said “If we don’t meet, we don’t meet. At least I know they found her.”
Possibly, quite possibly, he’s growing up.
A month later, the issue of meeting her was no longer an issue.
Date: July 24, 2017 at 1:35:54 PM EDT
From: Alejandro Muñoz <presidente@********.org>
To: Cathy Strauss <strauss@**********.com>
Subject: REUNION BOGOTA. SUNDAY 30 JULY, 10:15am
GREETINGS Ms. CATHY STRAUSS,
I have spoken with our volunteer in Medellin and she told me that BERNICE CECILIA communicated with her through a friend because she is aware of the arrival of her adopted son. Which means she has the will and willingness to meet with her son and we must take it as very good news.
On the other hand, I want to confirm you that the biological parents of your daughter are already aware of the reunion and for reasons of their work, have requested that it be held on Sunday, July 30. You and your family need to be at the Hotel we discussed on Sunday, July 30, 2017 at 10:15 am.
Very cordially:
ALEJANDRO MUNOZ GARZON
Founder and President — FIPER –
OK. Game on. Both meetings are set. Two weeks before we leave and we’re good to go. Hopefully. Because I’m someone who believes that nothing is something until it’s anything, let’s hope no one changes their mind. And by someone, I mean Bernice.
Bogota hotel and hamlet, here we come.
**
We arrived in Bogota late on a Saturday evening. As we left the airport, I stared out the windows of the van, past the flickering streetlights and darkened buildings and I realized: I remembered nothing. I think back to 1995 and 1998 and my only memories are about how fast we could leave, head home and just be parents. I’m grateful we have a chance to do it all again.
There’s no rest for the weary: tomorrow morning we hit the ground running and meet Isabelle’s birthparents.
I hug Max and then my daughter before Jackie and I went to our room, Cathy and the kids to hers. “I love you, young lady. Sleep well. No matter what happens tomorrow, remember who changed your diapers all these years.”
“Mom changed more than you,” she said.
“Goodnight Sophie. Or whatever your name is,” I said.
“Goodnight, dad number two,” as she rolled her eyes and walked off the elevator.
**
It was a cool, misty Sunday morning. The start of a typical day in Bogota, where the air is thin, and the temperature is always moderate. We all met in the lobby to make our way to the hotel. Isabelle looked adorable, truly beautiful in a yellow flowered dress. And, she was scared to death. It was pretty clear it was one thing to talk about meeting your birthparents, but when it was an hour away, the reality of what was going to happen kicked in.
Alejandro and his wife Lira were waiting at the hotel. It was our first time meeting him and he was nothing like I expected. I anticipated a calm, detail-oriented, quiet, professional. Instead, we got Jim Carey’s dad. Manic and charismatic. Flailing arms, a flair for the dramatic, an infectious laugh. We learned he used to be on Colombian TV and it’s not hard to see why. He spoke very little English and his wife Lira did her best to translate at the frenzied pace at which he raced through life.
We went upstairs to an open area of the hotel and Alejandro and Lira told us Isabelle’s birth family was going to be late. Not surprising: Bogota is a massive city, nearly ten million strong. Imagine dumping LA morning drive in the middle of afternoon rush hour in Manhattan.
As we sat nervously, Alejandro said he didn’t want to bring the whole family in at one time. He felt it was too overwhelming for everyone, and it would be far better to have them enter the room one at a time. Oh, and here was a juicy bit of news Alejandro/Lira dropped: until two weeks ago, the two other kids didn’t know Isabelle existed. Alejandro convinced Mom and Dad it was important to tell the other children and have them be part of the reunion. By all account, as Lira translated, the news was received with mixed emotions.
“These things take time,” she said.
Hopefully two weeks was enough time. This should be interesting.
**
We all paced nervously, waiting for their arrival. Isabelle was visibly shaking.
You always try to find calm in moments like this, but it’s hard, knowing the silence will soon be shattered by life-changing chaos.
Alejandro came running around the corner. “They’re here.” I looked at Isabelle. If someone asked me if she looked excited, panicked or nervous, my answer would have unquestionably been “yes.”
What happened next was a cross between the Dating Game and Wrestlemania. As Isabelle stood by herself in the center of the room, a wall separated the family lined up on the other side. Alejandro introduced each of them and even though he was just saying their names, it felt like Michael Buffer introductions:
“He’s four-foot six inches tall. He likes fritas and ponies. Weighing in at ninety-seven pounds, give it up for your little brother…Miguel!”
Nine year-old Miguel turned the corner and was uncontrollably crying. Of course he was. Fourteen days ago, he had one sister. Now he was suddenly face-to- face with a second sibling and like any normal nine year-old, didn’t know how to react other than to cry. He lunged towards Isabelle and she squeezed him deeply. He sat down and visibly shaken, buried his head in his hands.
Miguel was followed by his 14 year-old sister, Cecilia. She approached Isabelle cautiously, studying her, not quite sure what the appropriate engagement tactic should be. Again, understandable. Until this exact moment, she was the oldest child. The queen of the family. The big sis. Now, a beautiful 19 year-old older sister was right in her sightline, and she was somewhat confused, not particularly enthusiastic. They hugged, but I would hardly call it warm. She joined her brother on the couch.
Her birthfather, Alberto, was next. Instantly, you could feel his compassion. You don’t carry a photo in your wallet for all those years without having love in your heart. The embrace was tight and powerful and nineteen years in the making. Isabelle, my tough as nails daughter who never cries, couldn’t stop crying.
Alberto, tears dripping down his cheeks, walked away from Isabelle and hugged both Cathy and I. All he could say was “Gracias.” Again and again and again. It was impossible not to cry. He was so kind, and his joy in seeing his firstborn daughter was heartfelt for everyone in the room.
I happened to look over at Max while all of this was happening. He was weeping like a baby. He said afterwards he was crying because he was so happy for Isabelle, but I think it struck him that his sister was having this remarkable experience and there was still a tremendous level of uncertainty as to how his story would end.
Alberto put his arm around me and the two dads waited for Isabelle’s birth mom to enter the room. Like her second oldest daughter, her name was also Cecilia, and she had tremendous joy on her face when she saw Isabelle. They hugged, but I also felt that while she was embracing Isabelle, she was keeping one eye on Miguel and Cecilia. I think she instinctively recognized she needed to balance the excitement of seeing her first born daughter with making sure her other two children were emotionally safe.
Grandma (Cecilia’s mother) was last and similar to her daughter, there was happiness in meeting Isabelle with one eye solidly focused on the other two grandchildren.
They all sat on one couch. Truthfully, it was a bit awkward. There was the obvious language barrier. We had gotten through the introductions and Isabelle passed out photo collage books of her life to share with them. No one was really sure what to do next. Isabelle stepped up and brought Max over to meet everyone. She’s such a great, thoughtful kid. Alberto of course, stood up and gave Max a bear hug.
Cathy had written a note to Isabelle’s birthparents and Lira translated it to them in Spanish:
Dearest Cecilia and Roberto:
We don’t speak Spanish very well, but we wanted to write you a note to tell you how we feel. We want to thank you for your bravery all those years ago. We know it wasn’t an easy decision, but your choice allowed a beautiful young lady to come into the world. We’re so grateful to have Isabelle as a part of our life, and we’re so happy you have a chance to see her again. You would be very proud of the person she is — strong, confident, a leader. A wonderful kid. She’s brought us great joy. And we hope that you can rest easy, knowing she’s everything you hoped she would be. She is our angel and we are so blessed to have her. We hope that this is only the beginning of our relationship. We are as open as you wish to be a part of our life. The gift of life you’ve given us is priceless. As you have probably thought about Isabelle over the years, we have always kept you in our thoughts and prayers. Hoping, one day, this day
would come. Meeting the two special people that brought us life. Thank you again for today. It is a day we will never forget.
The Strauss Family.
Of course there was crying. Of course, then everyone turned to me to see what I would say. It’s hard to talk with a lump in your throat, but I stumbled through a few words thanking them again for giving our family such a beautiful person.
Alberto then stood up and looked at Cathy and I and said (translated) “We gave birth to her, but you are her parents and we are forever grateful.”
We exchanged some small gifts and I noticed Miguel was still somewhat upset. His grandmother whispered something in his ear and within a short time, the single greatest force in the universe connected Isabelle’s two brothers: a cellphone. Miguel pulled out his phone and handing it Max, ostensibly asking for help him with a Deadpool game. Max quickly obliged and the instantly became best friends.
Who says technology doesn’t bring people together?
We asked Alejandro if we could take the family out to lunch. He asked and they quickly agreed. Alberto looked at me and motioned to say he wanted to pay. I waved my finger no and simply said “Next time for you.” He smiled and nodded.
The morning chill never left the air, and as we made our way through the misty rain and across the brick-lined streets of Bogota. There were street vendors everywhere and a festival ensured every corner was packed.
Lunch was excellent. Traditional Colombian cuisine. We did our best to converse but it was a long table and as much as we tried to engage, it was challenging. There was a lot of smiling and nodding.
We went back to the hotel after lunch and Alberto asked if we could exchange contact information. He said to me (in English) “My English isn’t very good, but I can write. I will write you and please share with Isabelle.”
“You can write her,” I said.
He vehemently shook his head and pointed at me. “No, through you.” Clearly, he wanted to reinforce his role, never wanting anyone to feel like he’s crossing boundaries.
We said our goodbyes, unsure if we would ever cross paths again. It had been a draining, emotional day and there were no tears left. We assured each other we would stay in touch.
It had gone, in many ways, exactly how I expected. A bit of fear, excitement, joy, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reconnect.
I asked Isabelle how she felt. “Really good,” she said. “Satisfied. I really like my dad, Alberto.”
Then she looked at me and smiled, “Remind me again, how many diapers did you change?”
**
Later in the day, we spent a bit of time planning our trip to Medellin on Friday. Lira told us a story about how in one particular instance, Alejandro was faced with a similar situation to ours where he had to get a birthmother out of the house without the husband knowing what was happening. Alejandro dressed like a priest which allowed him to convince the husband to let the woman leave the home for some private prayer time, aka, meet her child.
I’m wondering if he still has the clerical collar from that story. Max’s birthmother is in a horrible situation and if we do meet her, it will clearly be a far different, more challenging experience than today.
**
Thursday night we flew took the short flight from Bogota to Medellin. The cab from the airport to the hotel was interesting. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to drive at high speeds on winding mountain roads. I no longer need to wonder.
Friday came and it was go time to the hamlet. While Medellin is much warmer than Bogota, it was another dark, rainy morning. Max was very quiet and obviously nervous. He said he had to use the bathroom in the lobby, so the rest of us stood anxiously waiting for the van to arrive with Alejandro and Lira. A few minutes later they arrived and we met Daniela, a beautiful young woman working with Alejandro. She had been the one who actually found Max’s birthmother and had engaged her throughout this process.
We made a bit of small talk and then realized, still no Max. For a brief moment we thought panic might’ve kicked in, but he popped his head around the corner and said, “Sorry, I got locked in the bathroom stall and had to kick my way out.”
Daniela looked at Max and started to cry. “You look just like her,” she said.
The van was quiet as we navigated our way out of the city. I could see Cathy was extremely anxious and when I asked what was wrong she said she was suddenly regretting the entire experience and questioning the whole trip. I think the pressure of trying to make this connection happen is becoming too much for everyone.
An hour into the trip we were past the chaos of the city and into the beautiful countryside. Stunning hillside views as we headed up the winding two-lane road. As everyone was admiring the view I casually asked, “So what exactly is the plan?”
As it turned out, the plan was extremely half-baked.
Lira: “Obviously, we’re heading to the hamlet. Yes, Bernice knows we’re coming, but she doesn’t exactly know we’re coming today. We’re hoping when we get there the husband is off at work and she’ll be willing to see us.”
So basically, everything I said I didn’t want to happen was happening. We’re heading there without any concrete assurance this reunion will occur. She didn’t know we’re coming and we we’re hoping the husband will be off at work? Every star in the universe will have to be aligned for this meeting to take place. My expectations waned. But we were too far along to turn back.
“Everything will be fine,” said Alejandro.
After stopping several times to ask people if we were heading in the right direction (which was somewhat funny — we were on a two-lane mountain road and there was no other way to go), we arrived. On the main street there was a small school, a rustic outdoor café, a small store and a few locals who were staring at the van full of strangers who were parked by the side of the road for no apparent reason.
As we sat in front of the café, Daniela pointed through the window down a dirt road and said, “She lives down there, up that hill.” How in God’s name did they ever find this woman? A three-hour drive from where she gave birth? A two-lane road up the side of a mountain to hamlet? Down a dirt road up a hill? A needle in the haystack at best.
As we sat in the van, the newly-minted plan was that Alejandro and Daniela were going to head up to the house while the rest of us waited and they’d text us when they had more information.
The air was motionless and stifling in the van. This was not helping anyone’s emotional state. We were all on edge.
After a few minutes, Alejandro’s wife tried to text him. “It’s not going through. I don’t think there’s very good cellular service up here.”
Plan B now became Plan C: wait. For what, we weren’t sure. So we all sat in the van staring at the dirt road looking for any sort of activity.
After what seemed like an eternity, Daniela turned the corner at the base of the road and started running towards us. Alejandro was nowhere in sight.
She opened the door and said between gasps, “The husband is home.” We all collectively sighed. We’re done. Then she followed up with, “But Alejandro is working on it.”
Working on it? What did that even mean?
As it turns out, working on it meant Alejandro had pulled out his bag of Alejandro tricks. Apparently, when he walked into the house and saw the husband, he immediately starting posing as a local doctor traveling the countryside. He noticed a scar on the husband’s elbow, and armed with a rudimentary knowledge of medicine said, “I see you’ve had a fracture. What happened?” The husband said he fell off his horse and it was healing properly. Alejandro gave his some cursory medical advice straight from webmd and instantly gained credibility in the husband’s eyes.
Alejandro then told him he was making rounds in the area and he would like to run a couple of tests on his wife. He asked him if it was OK to bring her down to his van for a few minutes because he had a group of medical students like Daniela and he wanted to show them what he does. Of course the husband said yes.
Mind you, we had no idea any of this was happening. All we knew was that “Alejandro is working on it.” We had moved the van down the dirt road to be off the main street, although in hindsight I’m not sure it was good idea. People were milling about, wondering why the van was there. This was not a road or a town where ten people in a van randomly showed up.
Suddenly, Alejandro came bounding around the corner holding on to his hat.
“Cathy, Lane, Max, come quickly! Come quickly!”
There really wasn’t time to think. We jumped out of the van and started running down the road. I turned to get my camera and Jackie said, “There isn’t time. Take my phone.”
Max was closely following Alejandro as we turned the corner. And there, halfway up the hillside, we saw her. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt she was his birthmother. Same skin tone. Same face shape. Same posture.
Max got to her first. They looked at each and there was an incredibly powerful embrace. They stepped back, stared at each other and despite the obvious language barrier, they were perfectly aligned.
As Alejandro spoke to them, Max kept looking in disbelief, almost as if he wasn’t quite comprehending he was face-to-face with her. The emotion we all felt was overwhelming. Happiness, closure and above all else, relief. For him. For everyone.
Max had written a note to his mother and Lira was translating it to her in Spanish. As she held hands with Max, I could see Bernice was happy but still, incredibly nervous. She was only a few hundred feet from her home and the husband she feared, and at the base of the hill several neighbors had walked by to see what was going on. She was afraid. A secret she’d held for twenty-two years was looking her right in the eye, holding her hand.
I looked down and Isabelle and Jackie had peaked around the corner to see what was going on. As soon as Bernice saw more people, she panicked and started to walk away. The stress was overwhelming. Alejandro raced over and managed to calm her down, if only for a moment. She came over to Max, gave him the sign of the cross, offered a prayer in Spanish and looked at us and said in Spanish, “You are his parents.” It was truly touching that for both Isabelle’s birthparents and Max’s birthmother, it was important to clearly make that point. It meant so much.
She ran her hand over his cheek to say goodbye and then she turned to head back to the house. And while she told Alejandro her husband might go to work later and we could come back, I think we all knew this was it.
We watched her head back, she looked paused at the very last minute, blew Max a kiss and then she was gone.
Twenty-two years ago, Bernice felt she had no choice and needed to walk away. Sadly, for a host of different reasons, she felt she needed to do it again.
When she was gone, Max caved and the floodgates opened. The pressure he, we, all felt this week had taken its toll and it was time to let it out.
We slowly walked down the hill and back to the van. We didn’t speak a word, nor should we have.
Once the van door closed, Alejandro was turbocharged, so full of joy. Bubbling with enthusiasm, he started waxing on about how amazing this experience had been. His glee was infectious as we recounted the details to Isabelle, Jackie, Lira and the driver.
“I’ve done this many, many times — hundreds of reunions — and this is one I will never forget,” said Alejandro.
We decided to wait around for a while to see if the husband actually went to work, but after an hour or so, it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere. So we turned the van around and headed back to Medellin. I was in the seat behind Max and I could literally feel the pressure had been lifted from him.
I’m not religious in any way, but on so many levels, this truly was a miracle.
When we got back to the hotel, I asked Max what his thoughts were on the day.
“It was amazing,” he said. “I wish we could do more to help her.”
“Maybe someday,” I said.
“But it was a bad day, too,” he said.
“How so?” I asked.
“Pretty sure I ruined any chances with Daniela after crying in front of her.”
The next day we spoke to Alejandro who told us Bernice had actually found a way to call him. She apologized for not being able to spend more time with us, but expressed a hope and desire to see Max again.
Later in the afternoon, Alberto reached out to Cathy via text and asked if we had any plans on Sunday when we were back in Bogota. They wanted to take us to lunch. Of course we said yes.
It was a much different experience than when we first met a week earlier. Clearly there was a stronger level of acceptance and comfort from everyone. Miguel and Cecilia now had a week to come to terms with the idea they had a sister and they were far more open to engage. Cecilia (mom) was much warmer and openly talked about how many letters she had written to us over the years and every time, she simply didn’t have to the emotional strength to bring them to the orphanage to be sent to us.
Afterwards, we walked around the Botanical Gardens for a few hours. Isabelle, Cecilia and Miguel ran and played. They held hands. It was a beautiful, amazing thing. Isabelle’s birthparents smiled. Isabelle’s adopted parents smiled. It’s impossible to know whether we’ll all stay connected, but on that day, in that moment, for those couple of hours, every decision we had all made for the last nineteen years that led to this experience made it all worthwhile.
**
Approximately nineteen years and ten days later, El Dorado International Airport, Bogota Colombia.
Here we are again. Heading home. Minus the strollers, bottles and binkies. The emotional suitcases however, were filled with enough content to last a lifetime. There were so many unknowns going into this trip, yet everything managed to resolve itself, sometimes in the most improbable ways.
Our extended family had grown exponentially. New relationships were formed.
I decided to get a recap from everyone while we were waiting, fresh in everyone’s minds.
Isabelle was texting her boyfriend and was ready to go home.
“Are you happy with how this all worked out?” I asked.
“I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty awesome,” she said. “I have three siblings, a couple of moms and two dads. I mean you guys are our parents, but still it’s nice to know I have options.” She smirked and went back to texting.
I was going to press on, but not really wanting an answer, I thought it best to stop.
Cathy was ecstatic. “I’m just so happy. All the craziness was completely worthwhile. Those people gave us the incredible gift of our children, of parenthood, and I think this has proven to be as important for them as it was for our kids. For us.”
Before we left, Jackie was worried about fitting in and being part of the experience, not simply an unengaged observer.
“These ten days have been really been amazing,” she said. “The things we’ve seen and the people we’ve met have been extraordinary. You know I was worried before we left about what my role would be. But your kids and Cathy have been so kind and so welcoming to me. It was truly remarkable to be a part of this.”
So far, so good. I then turned to Max, who seemed a little down.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I seriously don’t want to leave,” he said. “The trip has been better than I ever imagined and I really like it here.”
“There’s no reason you can’t come back,” I said. “But right now, considering you have one semester of college left, I’m thinking it might be a good idea to head home.”
“I could get a job here when I’m done,” he said.
“There’s certainly nothing stopping you from trying,” I said.
“True,” he replied.
“I mean, other than the fact that Colombian food gave you digestive problems every single day and your espanol could use a little help, you’re good to go.”
“Hey dad, did you know that New York and Oregon are the only states in the US with hamlets?”
Do I love that kid or what?
**
So why does our story matter?
Because at it’s core, this isn’t a story of our family. It’s a story of family.
It’s a story of the complexity of the quality of our relationships. Yes, my kids met their birthparents, and while they’ve opened these new connections and will find space in their lives to extend the boundaries of their family, it will always be different than the relationships they have with us. It will be interesting to see how this unfolds over time.
It’s also a story of closure and new beginnings. My daughter has already communicated with her biological family via Facebook, and my son’s birthmother said she was going to have surgery in a few months in Medellin (she will be alone) and she would love to see him again (we’ll see).
It’s amazing to me how many people have to said to us, “We could never do what you did.” Honestly, in hindsight, not doing this was never an issue; it was just a matter of when. Despite our relationship ending, our kids will always be our bond, and as much joy — and occasionally pain — that they’ve given us, this was our chance to complete the circles of their lives.
Because in the end, that’s what parents do.
