Archive for the ‘Adoption’ Category
January 21, 2008
Every moment of that day is forever engraved in my mind beginning with the flight from Beijing to Wuhan, including the trouble we had getting the car seat checked as oversize baggage on that flight, and ending with us holding Ava as she cried, seemingly inconsolably, in our hotel room that night. All night. We paced, we walked, we (I) cried with her, we took turns sitting and holding her upright since it helped her sleep. I remember wondering if this was truly happening after so long waiting.
I remember the snow and the ice and the fears that it would delay the babies’ trip from Qichun to Wuhan and the great relief J and I felt when we were told they’d made it there safely. I remember how my heart skipped a beat when we walked into our hotel room and saw a crib in there – waiting for Ava. A crib!! In our room!! That made it seem incredibly real for some reason. I remember the nerves, the heart palpitations, when it was time to board the bus for the trip to meet our daughter.
(Taken as we were boarding the bus outside the hotel. I think I was about to throw up at this point. Or cry.)
I remember seeing the Yangtze River for the first time as we crossed the bridge and spotting the Yellow Crane Tower. I remember driving by the Daoist Temple, picturesquely covered in snow, briefly thinking it was beautiful and then wishing with all my might that the driver would hurry up and our guide would skip the scenic commentary and just get us to our baby.
I remember walking to the door of the provincial affairs office with our group and feeling my heart drop when we discovered the door was locked and we couldn’t get in. I panicked for a moment because we’d been told the babies were there (everyone else panicked a bit, too) until our guide walked us to another door. I remember feeling like I wanted to laugh hysterically and cry all at the same time when we walked into the building because this was my dream. My lifelong dream getting ready to come true and I was petrified. And grateful. And unbelieving that this was actually happening.
And I remember the elevator. Tiny and full of smokers so J and I opted to climb the grand, marble staircase all the way to the upper floor where we were to wait. The stairs were slick from all the snow and ice outside and I slipped a little at the top, causing my already rapidly beating heart to thump a little harder.
They parked us in a cold conference room where some sat and waited and I paced and waited. J sat up the video camera, checking and double checking, to make sure he would be able to capture something of the day on camera. We listened to a brief speech from the provincial affairs officer, of which I have no real recollection of what she said, we signed some paperwork, and were presented with a few items from the orphanage. A photo album that was a total surprise and is priceless to us, some medicine (Chinese herbal and an antibiotic) since Ava was sick, baby formula, a one page summary of her current schedule, and a map of the SWI and surrounding area.
Ava was the last baby brought in. I couldn’t get to her because everyone else had their babes in arms and were blocking the way. I think I got a little ill-tempered and finally pushed my way through for the SWI director to hand her to me. He spoke to me about her being ill and I’ll always regret not taking a few moments more to speak with him. But I couldn’t. My every thought and action at that point revolved around her and J. I hope he understood and didn’t think me rude.
Ava wasn’t afraid. She was curious more than anything. Even when I look back at the photos now, after knowing her so well for the last two years, I don’t see fear in those first pictures. I see curiosity and interest. We’d sent a photo album in her care package and I truly believe her foster mom made sure she was exposed to those photos. When I look back at those photos I also see how awkwardly both J and I held her and how completely inexperienced we were as parents.
She was ill. Nothing major or long lasting, but she was slightly feverish and was sweating in the many layers of clothing. I remember how she was dressed in the same faded outerwear that all the other babies had on and how she smelled of coal – and how sweet that smell of her was anyway. I remember the long drive back to the hotel during a snow covered rush hour, and how guilty I felt at not having any juice or anything cool for her to drink.
I remember taking her back to the room and realizing that we had no freaking clue of what to do with this baby now that we had her. We decided to check her diaper and I remember being slightly amazed that diapers now had velcro tabs instead of tape. I didn’t know that. J got the first diaper change while I looked on. He did a good job. We stripped her down and rinsed her off with a damp washcloth, which she didn’t appreciate, before plunking her down on a blanket on the floor in order to overwhelm her with toys, the likes of which she’d clearly never seen before. Fortunately our guide showed up at that moment to translate our one page of info on what to feed her and to tell us what her sleep schedule was and to offer to get us food (Pizza Hut) since it had been hours and hours and hours since we’d eaten. J and I mixed her up a bottle (wrong on the formula to water ratio for at least the first couple of times) and managed to get her fed with only minimal collateral damage.
And I remember how grateful I was when she went to sleep. We’d had no real crying and could hardly believe our good fortune thus far.
Until she woke up in the night. Because our baby? She grieved at night, in the dark, when I can only imagine that she really grasped that her foster mom was no longer there and that her whole world had changed. I remember crying with her because I was helpless, truly impotent, to assuage her sadness. We held her, we walked with her, we slept sitting in a chair with her, doing anything and everything to let her know that, if nothing else, we were there. And we’d always be there. Always.
It’s been a good two years. Two of the best years of my life, and I’ve had a pretty great life so far, so that’s saying something.
And that’s why we want to celebrate our gotcha day. Not Ava’s gotcha day, but OUR gotcha day, because as surely as we ‘got’ her she also ‘got’ us.
She got to pick dinner. I thought for sure we’d be partaking of Chicken Mc.Nuggets but she surprised me with a request for pizza. Done.
There was cake AND cupcakes, homemade by Ava and Daddy. And icing (aka heaven) in a can.
And presents. Nothing big. And nothing I bought in China since I was in no way organized enough to shop for 16 or 18 or whatever number of significant gifts folks are doing these days. Just some small things to let her know that it’s a special day and that we are fortunate beyond measure to have been chosen to be her parents.
We tell her a million times a day that we love, love, love her. But even that’s not enough to convey the depths of feeling we have for this, for our, child. I don’t know if there is any way to do so, really.
As Ava gets older we’re trying to work out our family traditions on how we will celebrate our gotcha day – the anniversary of the day she was placed into our arms. I have lots of ideas but they all don’t feel right (for us) yet but, regardless, this wasn’t a good year for much of anything requiring too much planning or movement since surgery was only 9 short days prior.
But I did want to do something to commemorate it since it was one of (if not THE) best days of my life and I want to ensure that Ava knows that, despite any other feelings she may eventually have regarding that date. I do realize that although it was a day of exceptional gain for us, that gain came at a great loss of many things for her. I can only hope we can ultimately balance those things out by providing her with a family that loves her beyond measure.
At the very least there was going to be cake and presents – except there was nary an egg or a cake mix in the house – so a trip to T.arget was in order. I was beyond excited at the thought of getting out of my house for the first time in a week and a half. Way more excitement than a quick trip like that would normally engender but hey, you try being stuck inside with only daytime TV for company and see how desperate you get for a change of scenery.
Out trip was successful. Cake ingredients procured, as were some odds and ends gift-y things for her, and since I didn’t keel over in the middle of the store (although I felt like having J push me in the cart once we’d made about half a lap around the perimeter) we celebrated with Starb.ucks on the way out. Grande hot chocolate, skim with no whipped is my drink of choice (I don’t do coffee – ever) and Ava always gets a sip or two.
But since this was a special occasion we treated her to her very own cup this time. Whole milk WITH whipped cream – WOOT!
Her first Starbucks:
It was a hit – for about 3 sips. Then she ever so sweetly asked Daddy to hold it and refused to take it back again.
I’m okay with that. Much easier on my pocketbook anyway and she is always welcome to share mine.
By the way, frosting in an aerosol can? OMG – it’s even better than Easy Cheese.
Guess what came in the mail today?
Ava’s official US birth certificate listing J and I as her parents. We’ve been waiting (impatiently) on this since her readoption was completed so it was a very pleasant surprise to open the mailbox and see it waiting there for me.
I was a little weepy when I opened it up and saw it. This means a lot to us – on both an emotional level and on a practical level – and is the main reason we went through all the hassle of readopting her in Virginia. We didn’t have to since her adoption was complete and legal in China but this was the only way we could get a VA birth certificate so we sucked it up and did it.
I don’t know why but (emotionally) it makes everything seem a bit more real to see it laid out in black and white on an official US document naming us as her parents. I guess because we’re conditioned over the years that a birth certificate is like the gold standard of identity documents but it also hit me that she now has a birth certificate just like everybody else’s – one that lists her parents’ names and isn’t in a foreign language requiring explanations and translations every time we have to produce it. Before this she only had a Chinese birth certificate which truly pained me every single time I looked at it. Trust me, it’s really, really hard to look at your much loved and desperately wanted child’s documents and see the words ‘Abandoned – Parents Unknown.’ I know what they mean but I just wanted to protest and say that her (now) parents ARE known. Not to mention that I didn’t want her or us to have to answer nosy questions down the road when we did have to provide her birth certificate for things like school enrollment nor did I want that on file for anyone to see – if it’s painful for me to see it then I have to assume it will be for her at some point in her future.
I don’t know – is this a big deal to others or is it just me? Will it matter to Ava? I don’t know that either. Maybe she’ll think we’re trying to wipe away her Chinese birth identity or maybe she won’t even think of it at all. Regardless, it’s a big deal to us (J and I) right now (we’re her parents, y’all – officially!) and we’re happy that the commonwealth finally got around to sending it only 5 months after the judge signed the final order of adoption.
Not that I was counting or anything.
We are done, done, done with Bethany. Well, almost. I still owe them some pictures and they owe me a letter for the tax people verifying what some of the receipts we got in China are for – but once all that’s done I can wash my hands of them completely.
We had our last post placement meeting (#4). We had another new social worker, so we’ve now worked with a grand total of 5 social workers through 1 agency to complete Ava’s adoption.
They handle me with kid gloves now. I imagine that there are probably big red stickers all over my file indicating what a difficult ‘patient’ I am but I’ve gotten progressively more vocal over the problems we’ve had in dealing with the local office and Bethany in general. Something must have finally clicked after the last survey I filled out though because I finally got a call from the local director a couple of weeks ago asking if we could talk. We had a lengthy conversation where I provided very detailed and specific examples regarding the issues I had and I think that she finally listened. I hope so.
Anyway, the last visit took a grand total of about 15 minutes. I felt like we were rushed in and out, which was okay by me, and I’m not sure the social worker really listened to or cared about anything we said which was, again, okay by me. I’m sure she’d been told to tread carefully. I think she barely spoke to J at all and only acknowledged Ava once or twice.
Ava behaved wonderfully. She explored the office a bit with J in hot pursuit and then sat down on the floor beside the couch with a book in one hand and a cheese cracker in the other. She was pretty much good with that for about 8 more minutes until she decided to get my purse and drag it to the door saying “go, go, go” at the top of her lungs. Sounded like a good idea to me so we did.
We went to the mall afterwards. That’s a whole ‘nother post in itself.
I’ve alternated between weepy/teary and happy all day today. In a good way for both, of course.
It was one year ago today that Qi Xiao Bei was placed in our arms and we all began our new life as a family of three. It’s so hard to believe that a year with her has gone by so fast when all the years waiting seemed to drag on forever.
We left our hotel in Beijing really early on the morning of the 21st and headed to the airport where our group split and headed to 3 different provinces to meet our daughters and son. J and I were in the lobby to meet the others very early (really unusual as I’m late for everything) so we had plenty of time to ramp up the anxiety level although J and the other dads quickly started talking football to pass the time. The hotel packed a boxed breakfast for us which was absolutely horrid – I remember processed lunch meat of some sort and fruit (pears, maybe?) which we were told by the guide not to eat. I was a nervous wreck anyway and tossed mine without eating anything. The airport was huge and busy and I, along with several of the others, was feeling more than a little discombobulated (which is an unfamiliar feeling for me when it comes to travel as I’m usually pretty confident with it). Our facilitator was not traveling with us – she was leaving with another family who was traveling solo – so she got our bags checked, pointed us in the right direction, wished us good luck, and disappeared. There were 4 families heading to Hubei – with most of us being experienced travelers which helped. That said, going through security was not much fun at all. No clear cut rules and the lack of English made it a little nerve-wracking. We made it through security (finally) and took off at a gallop to the gate which was approximately 364 miles away and I’m truly not exaggerating very much. Oh my gosh, it was a hike and we way overpacked so we were toting far too many bags to gallop that far comfortably.
The flight itself must have been fine. To be honest, I don’t remember much about the flight except that there were plenty of people sneaking into the bathrooms to smoke and they kept feeding us every 10 minutes or so. I think the flight was only about an hour or maybe just over.
The Wuhan airport was much easier to navigate and our Hubei facilitator, Eric, was waiting for us right outside the luggage area. Again, too many bags and we were in desperate need of a restroom at this point so poor, patient Eric had to wait and wait on all of us to get it together. He finally loaded us up on a bus and we drove to the hotel. All I remember is that it was snowing and icy – no idea of how long it actually took us to drive from Point A to Point B. All I cared about by then is that we would be getting Ava that afternoon. He’d already confirmed that, despite the snow, the 4 babies were on their way to Wuhan from Qichun.
We checked into the hotel (very nice place – couldn’t tell you the name of it right now to save my life) and had a few minutes to get unpacked before we had to get on the road to go meet the babies. Let me tell you, it was quite a shock walking into a hotel room and finding a crib set up in there. That was kind of the moment that made it seem really, really real to me.
Once we got to the provincial affairs office and finally made it in to the building (Tip: don’t ever take the elevator in a Chinese building – people still smoke everywhere, including elevators, and it nearly killed me being in a smoky elevator smushed full of people) we were left to wait in a conference room. It was so cold in there. All of the employees of the building were wearing their coats and hats inside so I’m guessing it’s only ever barely heated. I kept taking my coat off, putting it back on, taking it off, etc. I must have been in an off cycle when they brought Ava in because it’s not on in any of the first pictures that I have with her.
The provincial officer came in and talked to the group about the harmonious period (essentially where we assumed temporary custody of Ava for the 24 hour period preceding her adoption) and we signed the paperwork for that.
By this point, they knew we were done for and the babies were brought in.
Ava was last through the door and was carried in by the orphanage director himself. I was frustrated because the other families had their babes in arms and were blocking my way so I finally elbowed through and got our girl at long last.
What I do regret is not taking a few moments to talk with the orphanage director at that time but I didn’t know (or care at that particular moment) that I wouldn’t see him again.
If you’re interested you can go back and read more about our day here.
Since J and I are still recovering from our weekend we had a low key celebration at home tonight. Chinese takeout was on the menu this year – ultimately we’ll let Ava help decide how/where we celebrate our got-each-other day. Tomorrow we’ll have cupcakes and balloons to celebrate her actual Adoption Day. Trust me, cupcakes and balloons are high livin’ to this particular 21 month old. She’ll probably think it’s Christmas all over again.
We’ve been in touch today with some of the families we traveled with. It truly is a bond that we’ll share with those families forever and I do hope that we can maintain these connections for the girls throughout the years.
I know this is a long, long post but I can sum it up like this:
J and I had a great life pre-Ava but, in retrospect, it was like living in black and white. She’s brought the technicolor (that we didn’t even know was missing) into our world and made it that much brighter.