Armando Lucas Correa - In Search of Emma: How We Created Our Family

To my children, Emma Isabel, Anna Luca, and Lucas Gonzalo.

With dreams, each man is given a small eternity.

JORGE LUIS BORGES

In him was life, and that life was the light.

THE GOSPEL OF JOHN

Whoever you areI have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

TENNESSEE WILLIAMS , A Streetcar Named Desire

New York

February 1, 2021

My dear Emma, Anna, and Lucas,

These pages are memorys artifice.

They are the silent conversation I began with you, Emma, on November 14, 2005, at 4:27 p.m., which then continued with you, Anna and Lucas, four years later, on December 13, in a dark hospital room in San Diego, California.

Emma, Anna, Lucas: this book is our framework.

Ill never forget the day you asked who your mother was, Emma. Wed just celebrated your third birthday. It was a time of princesses, clowns, and magic wands, remember?

You were holding the drawings you had made the previous night and said to me, This is for your mom. I asked you who my mom was and you answered without hesitation, Abuelita Niurca. And then I opened Pandoras box.

And who is Papi Gonzalos mom?

Abuelita Cuquishe lives in Cuba, you answered, still engrossed in your precise lines. But after a brief pause, you asked the question wed been anticipating: And who is my mom?

Gonzalo swallowed hard.

I replied, short of breath, carefully measuring each word, You have two dads. Some children have a mom and a dad; others, two moms; others grow up with only one mom or one dad. There are even kids who are orphans; they have no mom or dad.

We remained silent, waiting. I counted the endless seconds.

Would you like Mary to be your mom? I suggested, referring to the woman who had carried you in her womb.

No, you answered immediately.

Your grandmother, your aunt? Do you want them to be your moms?

No, you repeated.

That night I began to assemble a small book with images of the day Papi and I traveled to San Diego for the first time to conceive you, our meeting with Mary and Karen, the day the doctors showed us the thirteen embryos, and when they transferred the one that would later become you. I also included photos of Mary during the pregnancy and on the day of your birth. A photo of you closed the album: you were dancing and playing in the snow, with sunglasses and a princess crown. I titled it In Search of Emma.

Around that same time, you told us you wanted a little brother or sister. Since I tend to forget terrible moments, you led me to resume, without hesitation, the process of bringing another human being into the world. Thats how youAnna and Lucascame into our lives two years after Emmas request.

The path has been filled with vicissitudes and accidents, but the three of you are our best creations. You came into this world to complete us.

Emma, your intelligence and sensitivity are our pride.

Anna, each night I long for our routine of taking stock of the days events. Your wisdom and attentive eyes never cease to amaze me.

Lucas, I write down every one of your questions. Your ingenuousness and the level of your thought process make you special. You are a curious, noble, and kind boy.

Today, I observe the three of you walking by my side, almost reaching my height, and Im thrilled to listen to your plans: one of you wants to be an aerospace engineer; the second, a vet; the other, a civil engineer. Each day I am more convinced that you are ready to face life, but I must admit that, despite seeing you happy, I cant help but feel an uncontrollable fear. I look back and can still hear the lurking voices.

Those who questioned why we brought you into the world.

Those who said you werent our children.

Those who looked at you with pity.

Those who turned their backs on us.

Those who refused to baptize you.

Those who distanced themselves.

Those who said they would rather die than have two dads.

Since you were born, we have overcome each and every one of those battles together. Soon it will be your turn to defy them on your own.

I know that weve been happy, that weve given you the best education within our means, that youve been raised surrounded by love, and that weve prepared you to be compassionate toward ignorance. Never lower your heads. Look ahead, as far as you can, without stopping, without fear. The world belongs to you.

Once, you were our dream. Now, dear children, its your turn to dream. Squeeze your eyes shut and you will see how, one day, those dreams will come true.

You are the proof.

Thank you for choosing us.

Pap and Papi

T O HAVE ONE CHILD , I have killed five.

That image haunted me for months. A cell, an embryo, a heartbeat. Every night I woke up startled: three, four, five embryos thrown into the abyss.

I prayed for one. Only one. The one who would have the strength to cling to the walls of an unknown uterus, with a heart that would ride on uninterrupted until one day, months later, it would burst into the world with a crythe cry we all aim for.

First came fear. An eroding and paralyzing fear. Days, weeks, months of being terrified. The enemy of my endeavor was always lurking nearby. I was here and my potential children were there, on the other side of the country: from New York to California, the promised land. Never before had the East and West Coasts felt so distant. And strangers always on the prowl. Faceless voices with no soul. I heard phrases as instructions, words as orders. I had a whole army against me.

I made way for scrutiny. I had to go through the inquiring gaze of lawyers, doctors, nurses, psychologists, and social workers who analyzed every cell in my body. It seemed they were preparing to infiltrate my thoughts, even my dreams. I had to undergo every test imaginable; only then would I be allowed to contribute my 50 percent to the baby we would bring into the world. The other half would also be analyzednot just the one contributing the precious cell, but much further back: one, two, three generations. All in search of perfection, of an ideal. There was no room for error.

I SUBMITTED TO that maelstrom only because, early on in my childhood, I had reached a decision: to become a father. I had just turned twenty when I got marriedshe was eighteenand for two years, we avoided pregnancy at all costs. I didnt want my child to be born in Cuba, where we lived. We were very young and were both studying, but when our academic life ended, we decided to get a divorce. That was my first loss: as the opportunity to become a father as God intended slipped away, the possibilities of having a child dwindled.

Later, I met Gonzalo, and in 1991, we left Cuba for the United States. The idea of starting a family together had always been present in our relationship.

Adopting was an option, and I began in UkraineI still receive emails from adoption agencies there. At the time, Ukraine was one of the few countries with relatively flexible laws regarding the adoption of a child by a man of my age. Most countries offering possibilities of adoption required the candidates to be married heterosexual couples; several also had age limits. The process could take three to five years.

I gained access to orphanages in Romania and Russia as well as Ukraine. In all those countries I was presented with faces of children crammed into dislodged and dirty cribs. I corresponded both with other would-be parents, frustrated by the process, and with some who had overcome all obstacles and already had a baby under their roof.