May 13, 2008
The call.
Let’s relive the moment together.
Mike took Delaney to school with him because it was his last week of school and everyone is all hippied out on the last week of school often allowing furry animals, child animals and party snacks etc. into their classrooms. And also I was all “HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE DELANEY WITH YOU ON A DADDY DAUGHTER OUTING!?” (Read: Take your child or there is no guarantee of dinner, a clean house OR sex tonight or for the next week).
So they went. It was about 12:30 at this point.
I, being deliriously tired having been awakened to the sweet morning dew at 5 am that morning, did what any normal person would do with a couple free hours and exhaustion infiltrating the inner sanctums of the mind. I took a bunch of pictures of myself!
Every 7 or 8 months or so, I like to study my face. Like I’m a scientific researcher. See how I’m aging. See how other people see me. See what I look like when I say things like “DELANEY TAKE THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND GIVE IT BACK TO THAT STRANGER!” Because I don’t have time to study my face everyday in the mirror. That’s totally weird anyway. Everyone knows that if you really want to see your face, you take self portraits of yourself with your camera. Duh.
Don’t act like ya’ll don’t do this. Because we both know that you do. Maybe you delete them afterwards instead of posting them on the internet, but nevertheless, self-portrait-takers are everywhere, living amongst us all.
So, uh, there’s what I looked like the day I got the call of our new son.
After I finished that task, I headed upstairs to blast some music and clean the house. As I was compiling an awesome playlist of tunes from my classy and intellectual repertoire of song options, my best friend Erica called me. I don’t even remember what about, but we were talking, complaining, validating, the usual, when I heard the beep for the other line. I checked my phone and saw “WHFC calling” on the screen.
At this point, I inexplicably morphed into Mary Murphy where I couldn’t control it, everything that came out my mouth was about 4 octaves higher and 20 decibels LOUDER than I intended for it to be. From this moment on, for the rest of the story and for the rest of that day, I was inflicted with this condition.
So, I screamed something to the affect of “OHMYGAADITISOTHERLINESMEEGLESMANDERHIZZLE” and hung up on Erica.
I clicked over to the other line and said, again, with entirely too much force “HELLO?” And lo and behold it was Erin, our sweet social worker on the other end of my yodle. But I couldn’t let myself fully concentrate on what happened next because it registered in my mind at that moment that a somewhat ludicrous rap song was playing from the speakers of my computer, the kind of rap song you can only play when your child is out of the house with her father during his last hippied out week of class. And I thought to myself “This is wrong. I’m getting the call right now and my speakers are busting out some gangster grind”.
So I fidgeted with the speaker volume for a minute and then got flabbergasted and went into the actual music program and finally found the button to make it stop, I wasn’t about to let someone tell me of my new child to the tune of Cypress Hill, Insane in the Brain.
After that fiasco was diverted, I came back to the moment and literally screamed at Erin “TELL ME WHY YOU’RE CALLING!!” to which she hesitated, because I maybe sounded a bit insane? Possibly even mad at the situation. It’s just that I needed to get that out of the way, because if she was calling to say that they had a new fax number or something, well, that was information I needed RIGHT UP FRONT PLEASE.
Erin replied by saying “Jamie, this is the call!”
And then my head spun around 10 times, smoke came out my ears and my eyes exploded in their eyes sockets.
But really, I screamed and screamed and screamed, I think I even told Erin “HOLD ON A MINUTE WHILE I SCREAM” and then screamed some more. And I’m not typically a screamer. I didn’t expect this reaction. It’s like there was this creature in my guts, like in Alien, and the only way to get it out was to scream it out. And scream I did.
Then instead of letting Erin talk and you know, tell me details about our NEW CHILD, I started talking to her! Telling her a play by play account of exactly everything I was doing right then. “Okay, I’m walking in here, I’m sitting down, okay, I’m trying to find a pen, I don’t want to use a pencil! I think I found a pen, I need paper, I’m looking in the drawer for paper, I found paper, I’m setting it here, and OKAY! I’m READY!”
Seriously.
So, after that brief intermission, I think the very next word that registered with me was the word “boy”. And then I lost it again.
More screaming. Except, instead of just general screaming, this time, I was screaming “A BOY! WE HAVE A BOY! IT’S A BOY! ARE YOU SERIOUS! A BOY!”
I can only imagine Erin sitting there on the other line being like “Seriously this is taking so long, I’m craving Cheez-its. I wish I had a big handful of Cheez-its”….
I joined Erin again. I think she asked me “Are you ready again?”
Yes.
Okay. He is 2 years and 4 months old. His name is Siyum Yohannes.
And then she waited, I’m sure to allow for screaming match round 3. But just as soon as it started, the screaming tendency stopped. I had worked through the screaming phase and was moving on. Much to Erin’s dismay. Little did she know that the next phase was far scarier than the screaming phase.
She started to say something to the affect of “Katie is working on putting his documents and pictures together for you but since it’s already 3:30 here, she might not be able to send them to you until tomorro—-
“Nenenenenenenenenoooo. Say Wha? Neneneneneno. That won’t work for me. Tomorrow will not work. I need to see his face! I need his face! BRING ME HIS FACE!
And then Erin started talking to me like I can only imagine a Crisis Negotiator does when talking someone off a cliff. Or how someone talks to a 2 year old about to throw a fit. She was all “Well, she might be able to send them later tonight, it depends, she is working really hard.”
In my mind I was all WORK HARDER! TELL HER TO WORK HARDER! Maybe YOU should work harder! MAYBE EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE WORKING HARDER THEN HUH?????!!!!! But what came out my mouth was “I will give her anything. What does she want? Cookies? Brownies? Money?”
I think at this point Erin realized just exactly how crazy I really am.
So she pawned me off. She gave me Katie’s number faster than a geek on expert level Guitar Hero can play Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters.
My message on Katie’s voicemail:
“Oh hi Katie! This is Jamie and we are just so BEYOND EXCITED about our new son Siyum! YAY! I understand that you have his pictures and that there is this insane notion that we may not get them until tomorrow! I am calling to offer you anything in order to get his photos. I will give you vintage family heirlooms Katie. Name your price.”
While I was waiting for her return call, I speed-dialed Mike. No answer. He has his phone off, he’s in class. CRAP! I left a voicemail that resembled something like “WEGOTOURREFERRAL!CALLMEBACK! NOW!”
Next voicemail for Katie:
“Oh hi again Katie! Listen, I am chewing off my left hand here. Please can you call me back? I need to know what’s happening and when we’ll get to see his face! Okay thanks!”
My life was eerily quiet. I had no pictures of our son. I had no husband to scream with. I had no Delaney to squeeze. I had no one calling me back from my agency. I was paralyzed with anticipation of either getting his pictures, getting a phone call from my agency and getting a return call from Mike. And none of them were happening.
I emailed my agency yahoo group. I had to tell SOMEONE! WE HAD OUR REFERRAL! HELLO! I’m just chillin here at my house by myself with no pictures of his face!
Next voicemail for Katie:
“Katie, it’s Jamie again. WHY ARE YOU HOLDING MY SON’S PICTURES HOSTAGE?! It’s been an HOUR and a HALF!”
Everyone on my yahoo group was congratulating me, telling me how wonderful this was. It was awesome. I asked who lived closest to the WHFC office and could go be my picture avenger and retrieve his pictures for me. And they laughed. And I was all “NO REALLY.” I got some private emails telling me to hang in there, I’ll get his face soon. Enjoy the moment, etc…
At about 10 minutes till close on the east coast, I called the Manager of the Ethiopia program. Surely SHE would call me back and give me the FRICKIN status of my son’s face. But no. Nothing. I left her three voicemails, in addition to the three I had already left Katie. And then just for good measure, I sent them both two emails.
I know. Looking back, I could have done without the last 5 attempts.
At this point, it’s been 2 hours, and my agency office has been closed for 30 minutes and I’m just hanging on by a string to my sanity, HOPING someone is working late and is working late on my son’s face.
I forgot to also mention that I had been repeat auto dialing my husband this entire time. I probably logged in 85 calls only to continue getting his voicemail. “Hi! This is Mike! Thanks for calling, please leave me a message!” YA I’LL LEAVE YOU A MESSAGE, I’LL LEAVE YOU A MESSAGE UPSIDE YOUR HEAD IF YOU DON’T TURN YOUR PHONE ON AND CALL ME BACK! WE HAVE A SON YOU MORON! I KNOW YOUR CLASS HAS BEEN OVER FOR AN HOUR!”
But then. What’s this? The garage door? The lone Ranger? Returning? After all this time?
I RUN downstairs and throw open the door. Where have you been? Oh they were running some errands, stopped and got an ice cream, whatever, wrote a sonnet, weeded alongside the highway, you know, whatever…. forgot to turn phone back on. Sorry.
I said, “Oh. Okay. Well, you have a 2 year old son.”
Mike made that face that he makes when he sees Disneyland. Or the ocean. Like a 6 year old again, pure excitement. He was all “Are you serious? I have a SON?! Do we have pictures?!”
Uh about that. No. Not yet.
And then he said, “Well why not? Have you asked them to send them?” Like, “What have you been doing this whole time?”
And poor Mike had no idea. He had no idea what he was walking into. Because I. I was a madwoman at this point. I was balls to the walls crazy with anticipation still, really livid at my agency for not communicating with me, entirely too worked up and also a little thirsty. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything since the call. About 3 hours ago at this point. So, when Mike stepped into the bathroom to pee and his peeing took WELL BEYOND an average pee time, like the longest pee ever recorded in history, well, it was too much. His pee sent me over the edge.
And instead of being all glowy and sparkle-happy when I told him our son’s name and information, I was acting like a possessed woman, going back and forth on the emotional extremes like a yo-yo. Giggly and then exasperated. Elated and then vexed. Gleeful and then pissed. I even went to send another email but Mike stopped me and said “I’m saving you from yourself.”
Another hour went by. Like torture. Mike tried to motivate me to finish cleaning the house. It didn’t work. All I wanted to do was sit and stare at my inbox. I was trying to WILL the pictures to come. In the mean time, Mike checked the mail and had received some stupid chain letter weird scam crap about sending the top 6 people a dollar and then you would get EIGHT HUNDRED TWENTY SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS BACK! For some reason, Mike became fixated on this letter, this junk mail, and kicked me off the computer to research it. And this nearly sent me into convulsions. HOW DARE YOU! YOU’RE FOCUSING ON A CHAIN LETTER! WE HAVE A SON AND HIS FACE SHOULD BE IN OUR INBOX!
About 20 minutes later, I got a call from Erin saying his stuff was ready 4 HOURS after she originally called. She had sent us his face. Go check our inbox. Like I hadn’t been doing that obsessively for my whole life.
I BOLTED back to the computer and pulled up the email. And I looked upon that sweet face and smiled. He was beautiful. And sweet. And precious. And perfect. And he was our son. Mike said “He just couldn’t be any cuter could he?” and we both fought the urge to reach into the screen and pinch his cute cheeks. We fell in love and the previous four hours of anguish, the mental and emotional treadmill I had been on, it all vanished. Along with the 10.5 months of waiting. Gone. We had his face. We had a little boy. He was a part of our family and we already loved him.
We showed Delaney his pictures and she said “Can he come over right now?”
Then she drew a picture of of us flying in an airplane over the ocean water with fish to Africa where Siyum is waiting in his house. Complete with arrows and smiley faces. And I’d upload it here for you all to see because it’s just the cutest thing ever, but I’m tired of writing this post. This is the longest post I have ever done. And I’m tired. That’s it. Enough. The end.
