Rosa Caterina Manuel

Week One with Rosa

First of all, Rosa is a completely delightful, even-tempered, easygoing child. She seems to know she belongs with us, and has adjusted to family life with ease, encountering only a few minor calamities, and just a bit of sibling rivalry along the way.

Its been one week home, after months and months of waiting. In fact, it was at this time last year (or perhaps a little later) that we got the letter telling us to prepare to welcome Rosa home, as her court hearing date was imminent, and she could be home as early as June (of last year). But then, there was a court strike in Madras. It was expected to go on for a couple of weeks, then a couple of weeks turned into a couple of more weeks, and so on, until three months later the strike finally ended. We thought then that her case would be heard immediately, but somehow the backlog kept getting worse. It was the same story again: just a week or two until her hearing, then just a week or two more, and so on and so on until suddenly it was Christmas, and her court date was finally scheduled. And then, the tsunami hit. More delays. And then her paperwork was done in India, but U.S. immigration inexplicably sat on her case for over 6 weeks (instead of the 1-2 weeks we had been told to expect). And then Rosa was almost ready to come home, but all the flights were booked from India, and then there was another delay in getting her Visa.

It is difficult to describe what its like to spend almost a year expecting your child to be home within the month.

But, then, finally, she was on her way. Very early Sunday morning, April 3, 2005 (2 AM Bombay time), Rosa Caterina got on an Alitalia flight from Bombay, headed to Boston via Milan. It was an apt stopover, actually, since she is named after my paternal grandmother, Rosina, who herself came to America from Italy.

Maria was so excited as the hour approached. We kept looking at our world map to see where Rosa was at that exact moment. While Rosa was in the air between Bombay and Milan, the Pope died. It seemed fitting somehow, that at the same time that a grand and majestic life ended, in full view of the entire world, a humble and inconspicuous life was about to begin anew, invisible to all but a small circle of loved ones.

Maria could barely sleep on Saturday night (neither could we), and when Sunday dawned, she put on her choice of clothing: a beautiful Indian outfit of red and orange, matched with her favorite maryjane style black patent leather shoes.

At the airport, we were thrilled to learn that the flight was to arrive a few minutes early. When we saw that it had landed, we went post-haste to the waiting area, and proceeded to wait. And wait. And wait. Apparently, there was a very long line at customs. We watched as other passengers filed out, greeted by their families and friends. We kept our eyes on the doors for over an hour and a half, and then suddenly, there was Rosa, in the arms of Minal, her Indian escort. Tiny little Rosa was smiling: a big, beautiful, radiant smile. She kept smiling, at me, at Paul, at Maria. She went directly into Paul's arms, then mine. She accepted a hug from Maria, all the while laughing. And then she was off, running around the airport lounge, laughing when we caught her and then running off again. We finally rounded up Rosa, her luggage, Maria, all our paraphernalia, and headed to the car with Minal.

Rosa's smiles turned to tears when she encountered a car seat for the first time. She thought we were crazy, strapping her into that contraption. And her crying set Maria off, who, herself suffering from nervous excitement and lack of sleep, started screaming and kicking. Of course, Maria's screaming only made Rosa cry more, and Rosa's crying made Maria scream more. I sat in between them. Welcome to sisterhood.

We dropped Minal off at her hotel, and she gave us a little smile as she scurried off to a warm bath and a quiet room, while we drove off in the scream-mobile, with Paul and me grinning like idiots.

Things quieted down when we got out of the car. Both girls got in their pajamas, watched Maria's favorite Kipper video and ate spaghetti and meatballs while sitting in a playpen (Maria's idea). Rosa just kept smiling.

We got them both in bed with little difficulty, and I left the room with two peaceful girls on their way to dreamland. Minutes later, I heard a thud, and the pitter-patter of little feet, followed by the pitter-patter of slightly larger feet. A grinning Rosa came running into the room, with Maria running after her, saying, Rosa climbed out of the crib! Rosa climbed out of the crib! I scooped Rosa up, put her back in the crib, got Maria back in bed, and left the room. Then, the scene repeated itself. Not once, not twice, but 8 times.

The next day, Rosa had what has become her usual breakfast of two or three bananas, cheerios and milk. We got in the car to go to Maria's pre-school, and again Rosa cried when we strapped her in. And again Maria kicked and screamed at Rosa's crying. And again Paul and I were just grinning like idiots. In what has also become the norm, we arrived late to Maria's pre-school, and then proceeded to disrupt the entire class as Maria gleefully announced the arrival of her long-awaited sister, and all the boys and girls were straining to get a look at her, to touch her, to ask questions about her. Fortunately, the teachers are as charmed by Rosa as are the students. And Rosa just basked in all the attention. We had to pull her away from the classroom.

How to describe Rosa's personality? She is quick to smile, and loves to laugh. She has the funniest little laugh, it almost sounds like Fran Dreschers on the Nanny. She talks all the time, babbling in Tamil and expecting an answer. She seems to understand everything we say, even though shes never heard English before. We'll say, Rosa, take this toy to your sister, and she'll do it. We'll say, Rosa, come here now, and she will. We'll say, Rosa stop doing that, and she'll stop. Okay, so maybe she won't stop, but she clearly knows she's supposed to. In fact, just this morning, she started to climb on the coffee table, looking at me and saying No with a devilish grin as she did so.

Rosa is very playful, and loves to tease, by offering you her cheerios, for example, and then pulling them away as you reach for them. She delights in everything around her, pointing at a bird in the sky, and then laughing. She loves to run around outside and just throw back her head and laugh. She loves to be kissed. When you kiss her on the cheek, she offers the other one. When you hug her, she closes her eyes and smiles, and her whole little body just shakes with delight. She has the most amazing big brown eyes, with the longest, curliest lashes.

She loves to point at things and have us tell us what they are. But she doesn't use her index finger to point, the way an American child would. She uses her whole hand in a graceful, arching gesture, with her palm up and fingers down. When you tell her what she's pointing at, she tries to repeat the word. Yesterday, Maria dropped something, and said Oops, which Rosa promptly repeated. Much hilarity ensued, as Maria and Rosa alternated saying oops and laughing uproariously.

For the first few days, the two girls were wary of one another, and then, one night, Rosa discovered a little toy car of Maria's, and Maria discovered the joys of pushing her sister around (in the car, that is). Last night, Maria hovered around Rosa's crib as Rosa rocked herself to sleep. Maria handed her toys and blankets, just the way I did for her, and then sat in the rocking chair and sang lullabies.

After the first two car rides, Rosa got used to the car seat, and now knows the drill for car trips she even tries to buckle herself in. She had her first trip to the doctor's office, and fussed very little. She seems to be very healthy (all things considered), and the pediatrician was impressed with the care she had been given in the orphanage, although she is tiny for her age. She's three, but looks closer to 1 or 2. She was fed good food at the orphanage, but not enough. Her goal now is to mangia, mangia, and she seems to be complying, especially when there are cheerios, bananas or hummus involved.

Rosa's first week has been healthy and happy. She really is the most easy-going child I have ever met, although that's not to say she doesn't have a mind of her own. She loves life, expects to be loved and finds she has a lot of reason to smile. It's humbling, really, to see this tiny child, who, by worldly standards, has so little. We may be giving her material gifts in the form of food and shelter and the privileges that an American child enjoys. But the funny thing is, it doesn't feel like the riches are flowing from us to her. Instead, her joy, her spirit, her tenacity, her simple dignity, her expectation of nothing but love--all of these things are enriching our lives immeasurably.

So, finally, welcome home, Rosa. You were worth the wait.

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Orphanage Rosa lived in
Link to Rosa Caterina's Patron Saint

St. Catherine of Siena

Link to Rosa's Birthplace

Week One with Rosa

First of all, Rosa is a completely delightful, even-tempered, easygoing child. She seems to know she belongs with us, and has adjusted to family life with ease, encountering only a few minor calamities, and just a bit of sibling rivalry along the way.

Its been one week home, after months and months of waiting. In fact, it was at this time last year (or perhaps a little later) that we got the letter telling us to prepare to welcome Rosa home, as her court hearing date was imminent, and she could be home as early as June (of last year). But then, there was a court strike in Madras. It was expected to go on for a couple of weeks, then a couple of weeks turned into a couple of more weeks, and so on, until three months later the strike finally ended. We thought then that her case would be heard immediately, but somehow the backlog kept getting worse. It was the same story again: just a week or two until her hearing, then just a week or two more, and so on and so on until suddenly it was Christmas, and her court date was finally scheduled. And then, the tsunami hit. More delays. And then her paperwork was done in India, but U.S. immigration inexplicably sat on her case for over 6 weeks (instead of the 1-2 weeks we had been told to expect). And then Rosa was almost ready to come home, but all the flights were booked from India, and then there was another delay in getting her Visa.

It is difficult to describe what its like to spend almost a year expecting your child to be home within the month.

But, then, finally, she was on her way. Very early Sunday morning, April 3, 2005 (2 AM Bombay time), Rosa Caterina got on an Alitalia flight from Bombay, headed to Boston via Milan. It was an apt stopover, actually, since she is named after my paternal grandmother, Rosina, who herself came to America from Italy.

Maria was so excited as the hour approached. We kept looking at our world map to see where Rosa was at that exact moment. While Rosa was in the air between Bombay and Milan, the Pope died. It seemed fitting somehow, that at the same time that a grand and majestic life ended, in full view of the entire world, a humble and inconspicuous life was about to begin anew, invisible to all but a small circle of loved ones.

Maria could barely sleep on Saturday night (neither could we), and when Sunday dawned, she put on her choice of clothing: a beautiful Indian outfit of red and orange, matched with her favorite maryjane style black patent leather shoes.

At the airport, we were thrilled to learn that the flight was to arrive a few minutes early. When we saw that it had landed, we went post-haste to the waiting area, and proceeded to wait. And wait. And wait. Apparently, there was a very long line at customs. We watched as other passengers filed out, greeted by their families and friends. We kept our eyes on the doors for over an hour and a half, and then suddenly, there was Rosa, in the arms of Minal, her Indian escort. Tiny little Rosa was smiling: a big, beautiful, radiant smile. She kept smiling, at me, at Paul, at Maria. She went directly into Paul's arms, then mine. She accepted a hug from Maria, all the while laughing. And then she was off, running around the airport lounge, laughing when we caught her and then running off again. We finally rounded up Rosa, her luggage, Maria, all our paraphernalia, and headed to the car with Minal.

Rosa's smiles turned to tears when she encountered a car seat for the first time. She thought we were crazy, strapping her into that contraption. And her crying set Maria off, who, herself suffering from nervous excitement and lack of sleep, started screaming and kicking. Of course, Maria's screaming only made Rosa cry more, and Rosa's crying made Maria scream more. I sat in between them. Welcome to sisterhood.

We dropped Minal off at her hotel, and she gave us a little smile as she scurried off to a warm bath and a quiet room, while we drove off in the scream-mobile, with Paul and me grinning like idiots.

Things quieted down when we got out of the car. Both girls got in their pajamas, watched Maria's favorite Kipper video and ate spaghetti and meatballs while sitting in a playpen (Maria's idea). Rosa just kept smiling.

We got them both in bed with little difficulty, and I left the room with two peaceful girls on their way to dreamland. Minutes later, I heard a thud, and the pitter-patter of little feet, followed by the pitter-patter of slightly larger feet. A grinning Rosa came running into the room, with Maria running after her, saying, Rosa climbed out of the crib! Rosa climbed out of the crib! I scooped Rosa up, put her back in the crib, got Maria back in bed, and left the room. Then, the scene repeated itself. Not once, not twice, but 8 times.

The next day, Rosa had what has become her usual breakfast of two or three bananas, cheerios and milk. We got in the car to go to Maria's pre-school, and again Rosa cried when we strapped her in. And again Maria kicked and screamed at Rosa's crying. And again Paul and I were just grinning like idiots. In what has also become the norm, we arrived late to Maria's pre-school, and then proceeded to disrupt the entire class as Maria gleefully announced the arrival of her long-awaited sister, and all the boys and girls were straining to get a look at her, to touch her, to ask questions about her. Fortunately, the teachers are as charmed by Rosa as are the students. And Rosa just basked in all the attention. We had to pull her away from the classroom.

How to describe Rosa's personality? She is quick to smile, and loves to laugh. She has the funniest little laugh, it almost sounds like Fran Dreschers on the Nanny. She talks all the time, babbling in Tamil and expecting an answer. She seems to understand everything we say, even though shes never heard English before. We'll say, Rosa, take this toy to your sister, and she'll do it. We'll say, Rosa, come here now, and she will. We'll say, Rosa stop doing that, and she'll stop. Okay, so maybe she won't stop, but she clearly knows she's supposed to. In fact, just this morning, she started to climb on the coffee table, looking at me and saying No with a devilish grin as she did so.

Rosa is very playful, and loves to tease, by offering you her cheerios, for example, and then pulling them away as you reach for them. She delights in everything around her, pointing at a bird in the sky, and then laughing. She loves to run around outside and just throw back her head and laugh. She loves to be kissed. When you kiss her on the cheek, she offers the other one. When you hug her, she closes her eyes and smiles, and her whole little body just shakes with delight. She has the most amazing big brown eyes, with the longest, curliest lashes.

She loves to point at things and have us tell us what they are. But she doesn't use her index finger to point, the way an American child would. She uses her whole hand in a graceful, arching gesture, with her palm up and fingers down. When you tell her what she's pointing at, she tries to repeat the word. Yesterday, Maria dropped something, and said Oops, which Rosa promptly repeated. Much hilarity ensued, as Maria and Rosa alternated saying oops and laughing uproariously.

For the first few days, the two girls were wary of one another, and then, one night, Rosa discovered a little toy car of Maria's, and Maria discovered the joys of pushing her sister around (in the car, that is). Last night, Maria hovered around Rosa's crib as Rosa rocked herself to sleep. Maria handed her toys and blankets, just the way I did for her, and then sat in the rocking chair and sang lullabies.

After the first two car rides, Rosa got used to the car seat, and now knows the drill for car trips she even tries to buckle herself in. She had her first trip to the doctor's office, and fussed very little. She seems to be very healthy (all things considered), and the pediatrician was impressed with the care she had been given in the orphanage, although she is tiny for her age. She's three, but looks closer to 1 or 2. She was fed good food at the orphanage, but not enough. Her goal now is to mangia, mangia, and she seems to be complying, especially when there are cheerios, bananas or hummus involved.

Rosa's first week has been healthy and happy. She really is the most easy-going child I have ever met, although that's not to say she doesn't have a mind of her own. She loves life, expects to be loved and finds she has a lot of reason to smile. It's humbling, really, to see this tiny child, who, by worldly standards, has so little. We may be giving her material gifts in the form of food and shelter and the privileges that an American child enjoys. But the funny thing is, it doesn't feel like the riches are flowing from us to her. Instead, her joy, her spirit, her tenacity, her simple dignity, her expectation of nothing but love--all of these things are enriching our lives immeasurably.

So, finally, welcome home, Rosa. You were worth the wait.

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