His nightmares have ended

Cathy Mayo was lying in bed in Jamaica Plain, and she knew that Delmace, the 3-year-old boy she was trying to adopt, was flailing in a bed in the hills above Port-au-Prince.

Delmace survived the earthquake, but when he tried to sleep he woke up screaming.

Delmace’s adoption was one of a million things that got reduced to rubble on the afternoon of Jan. 12. Cathy Mayo didn’t know when she’d get him out, if she’d get him out. And when she found out he was having nightmares, she couldn’t sleep and wondered if he was thinking, “Why isn’t Mama Cathy coming to get me?’’

She watched the TV and rejoiced when she saw 53 kids from a Haitian orphanage arrive in Pittsburgh. She watched the TV and saw a bunch of people from a church in Idaho get arrested for trying to smuggle kids out of Haiti and she thought everything was ruined.

On Sunday night, she was on the phone with Renee Dietrich, who was taking care of Delmace at what was left of the Wings of Hope school for kids with disabilities, and they were tired of waiting. Kids who were already in the adoption process were being spirited out of the country, under the authority of something absurdly called humanitarian parole, and Renee said she was going to go to the US Embassy.

It was still dark, well before dawn, on Monday when Renee got in line outside the embassy, holding Delmace in her arms.

She called Cathy Mayo that afternoon, and between the bad connection and Renee’s tears, it was hard to make out what she was saying.

“Leaving now,’’ Renee said. “Come back tomorrow.’’

Cathy thought it had been a wasted day. But then Renee explained: They were approved. They were told to come back Tuesday and then they would fly to the United States.

The papers had to be signed by Haiti’s prime minister. They flew out on a US military transport at 1 a.m., and three hours later they were in a children’s residential home in Miami.

Cathy Mayo and her friend, Dede White, who works with her at the Cotting School in Lexington, got the first flight out of Logan Wednesday morning, at 5:30.

When mother and son saw each other, they didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. Delmace hugged her so tight that Cathy Mayo thought her neck might break.

A couple of hours later, Delmace was sitting in a shopping cart, going up and down the aisles of a Target in Miami. He got a kick out of saying “Target’’ over and over again. Renee’s suitcase got lost on the military transport, and she needed clothes.

They flew back to Boston that night but had a layover in Charlotte, so they didn’t get out of Logan until 1 in the morning.

Delmace slept on the flight, but he woke up as they drove through Boston. Cathy Mayo didn’t go straight home.

Delmace saw the emblem on the wall, at the corner of Yawkey Way and Van Ness Street. It was the same emblem that was on the cap he had worn in Haiti for the last year.

“Red Sox,’’ he said, his first words in Boston. “Red Sox.’’

The car circled the ballpark, slowly, and Delmace couldn’t understand why they kept stopping at each corner, because no one stops at corners in Haiti.

“Allez!’’ he said. “Allez!’’

When they got to the three-decker in JP, Delmace didn’t want to sleep. He examined every inch of the place. He took stock of his toys. He and the two cats, Benny and Keegan, sized each other up. He finally fell asleep at 3, and was up at 9:30. His first breakfast in Boston was a bowl of oatmeal, a slice of bread with peanut butter, and some apple juice.

Cathy Mayo pulled up some of the rugs and yesterday Delmace was propelling himself across the polished wood floors like a skater gliding on ice. His legs don’t work, but his arms are now legs. There are hospitals and hope and many things that didn’t exist in his world a week ago.

“Vini! Vini!’’ he said, which means “come’’ in Creole, and he led me to his room, the walls lined with Red Sox memorabilia. We sat on the floor and Delmace tossed a miniature soccer ball at a small basketball hoop attached to a wall.

He pointed to a frame that sits on the nightstand next to his new bed. It is a photograph of him and another boy named Dad, his friend.

“We don’t know what’s happened to Dad and his family,’’ Cathy Mayo said. “No one has heard from them since the earthquake.’’

Today, mother and son will be attending Mass at St. Cecilia’s in the Back Bay. The pastor, the Rev. John Unni, was in Haiti last week. Delmace beat him home.

But yesterday was a down day. Mama Cathy and D, just hangin’.

At one point, Delmace was chasing the Spiderman motorcycle Dede bought him across the floor but then, without a word, for no reason at all, he pulled himself up onto the couch, with great effort, and he wrapped his arms around his mother.

And he wouldn’t let go.

Kevin Cullen is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at cullen@globe.com