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Monday, April 28, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
A Family of Her Own, A Family of Our Own
As I type, it is 9 a.m., Thursday, April 10 in China. Exactly one month ago, we waited in our hotel lobby, ready to board the bus that took us to the civil affairs office in Nanjing where we met our daughter for the first time.
Only one month. No time at all, and yet, a lifetime. As a friend observed, so magnificent, and so mundane. As always, life is in the details. A few weeks ago, we met our daughter on the other side of the world. Lanterns swung from trees and doorways. Unfamiliar sounds floated like music on the air. A shy girl hid her head on my shoulder and stole looks at us with dark eyes that wanted to trust, but weren't sure they were able. Back on this side, I struggle to keep the goldfish crackers swept from the floor before the mountain of folded laundry crashes from the couch. Somewhere in the distance, the raspy sound of a cat with a hairball promises a mess waiting to be found. And Cate darts in and out, eyes sparkling, begging to be chased, and caught and tickled and kissed.
So magnificent and so mundane is this life we all lead.
In one month, a little girl has blossomed. She is funny. She has a sense of humor. She has a temper. She is gaining confidence and making friends. She loves food. She's learning to dance. She likes to be tucked in under blankets and nestled beside her bunny before she throws them all out of her crib every night. She plays with her socks. She is particular about her shoes. She loves me, and her baba, and her brother. She has learned to kiss, big puckery kisses, with dramatic "MMMMMMA's." She loves the cats. She want to be outside. She loves being pulled in the wagon and going down the slide, but wants nothing to do with the swing. She will walk on grass, but refuses to move on crunchy leaves. She insists on talking on the phone. She leads us to the bathroom when she wants to take a bath or brush her teeth. She likes to sweep the floor. She hates it when her hands are messy.
I have learned these things in a month... these things, the things I have wanted to know. Every day, every hour, I learn more.
In a month, I have witnessed Alex become the big brother he wanted to be, the one who is teaching his sister, the one she copies, the one who feeds her new foods, the one who hugs her when he goes to school and holds her hand when they walk together through the yard. There is, of course, a vying for attention. Impatience when she has a tantrum. A call for justice when she hits. But there is also a calm and gentle voice drifting up the stairs in the morning, "It's okay Cate. Mama will be right down. You're okay. I am here with you."
In a month, Steve has been smitten, has jumped through hoops, for his new daughter. He is persistent. He makes her laugh. He lifts her high so she can touch the ceiling and barters for kisses with treats. She plays hard to get, but it is clear to see, he has her heart. And she has his. And I fall in love again with this man.
Certain moments in our lives define us. This is one of mine.
The journey to parenthood has not been the easiest for me. I carried both of these children in my heart long before I carried them in my arms. And yet, they are here. I would not undo a single tear, a single anxious night. They are here. They are what I waited for all along. Laughter and tantrums and smashed Goldfish crackers. They are what I waited for all along.
This is my last post on this blog. Every good story should find its ending and Cate is now home. I hope to start another tale and will post the address here when I do. There probably won't be moonbeams or dragons, but I am sure there will be pirates and golden crystals from the sun. I thank all of you, so many people I know, and many people I don't, who have kept us in their hearts throughout this journey. In my life, I have never felt such an outpouring of joy. I am not overstating this in a burst of emotion. This is a fact. The love, the welcome, the delight that has flowed into our lives since we knew Cate was coming into our lives, is astonishing. This little girl has magic in her. I feel it all around me. I see it in people's smiles. I hear it in their conversation. We will never know the circumstances that have brought this child to us, but I do know, that this is where she is meant to be, that her coming here has been a coming of joy. There is tangible joy all around her. I feel it all around me. I have all of you to thank for this pure delight and for filling her life with love. You have created for her a family, a community.
This morning was a typical morning. Alex had school. He didn't want to put his shoes on, wanted to fasten his own car seat (an exercise in patience when you are running a little late), needed a snack or he wouldn't have an once of energy for learning or playing. I forgot that Cate cries and fusses unless she buckles a part of her own car seat. I unbuckled her. Took a breath while she did it herself. We had left the windows down. My seat was cold and a little damp. But the sun was shining, the crocuses up.
As we drove toward town, Cate sang. Alex pretended to sleep. He told her to stop. Still she sang. He told her to stop. Still she sang. It had potential to become unpleasant. Then it was quiet. They were both pretending to sleep. I heard a little giggle from Cate. One eye opened, she was trying to see what Alex was up to, so she could do it next. Alex quickly closed his eyes. Then they both flew open again.
"Mom, I can't even believe that Cate is really here. Can you? I just can't believe she is really true."
I feel a catch in my breath, caught off guard, by the depth of this small boy, by the history of hope and emotion in his question. By the reminder that he too had waited and waited.
Next to him, his sister giggles, trying to catch his eye. He closes his eyes and opens them again.
"And Mom, I am just too, too hungry to go to school."
So magnificent and so mundane is this life we lead.
Only one month. No time at all, and yet, a lifetime. As a friend observed, so magnificent, and so mundane. As always, life is in the details. A few weeks ago, we met our daughter on the other side of the world. Lanterns swung from trees and doorways. Unfamiliar sounds floated like music on the air. A shy girl hid her head on my shoulder and stole looks at us with dark eyes that wanted to trust, but weren't sure they were able. Back on this side, I struggle to keep the goldfish crackers swept from the floor before the mountain of folded laundry crashes from the couch. Somewhere in the distance, the raspy sound of a cat with a hairball promises a mess waiting to be found. And Cate darts in and out, eyes sparkling, begging to be chased, and caught and tickled and kissed.
So magnificent and so mundane is this life we all lead.
In one month, a little girl has blossomed. She is funny. She has a sense of humor. She has a temper. She is gaining confidence and making friends. She loves food. She's learning to dance. She likes to be tucked in under blankets and nestled beside her bunny before she throws them all out of her crib every night. She plays with her socks. She is particular about her shoes. She loves me, and her baba, and her brother. She has learned to kiss, big puckery kisses, with dramatic "MMMMMMA's." She loves the cats. She want to be outside. She loves being pulled in the wagon and going down the slide, but wants nothing to do with the swing. She will walk on grass, but refuses to move on crunchy leaves. She insists on talking on the phone. She leads us to the bathroom when she wants to take a bath or brush her teeth. She likes to sweep the floor. She hates it when her hands are messy.
I have learned these things in a month... these things, the things I have wanted to know. Every day, every hour, I learn more.
In a month, I have witnessed Alex become the big brother he wanted to be, the one who is teaching his sister, the one she copies, the one who feeds her new foods, the one who hugs her when he goes to school and holds her hand when they walk together through the yard. There is, of course, a vying for attention. Impatience when she has a tantrum. A call for justice when she hits. But there is also a calm and gentle voice drifting up the stairs in the morning, "It's okay Cate. Mama will be right down. You're okay. I am here with you."
In a month, Steve has been smitten, has jumped through hoops, for his new daughter. He is persistent. He makes her laugh. He lifts her high so she can touch the ceiling and barters for kisses with treats. She plays hard to get, but it is clear to see, he has her heart. And she has his. And I fall in love again with this man.
Certain moments in our lives define us. This is one of mine.
The journey to parenthood has not been the easiest for me. I carried both of these children in my heart long before I carried them in my arms. And yet, they are here. I would not undo a single tear, a single anxious night. They are here. They are what I waited for all along. Laughter and tantrums and smashed Goldfish crackers. They are what I waited for all along.
This is my last post on this blog. Every good story should find its ending and Cate is now home. I hope to start another tale and will post the address here when I do. There probably won't be moonbeams or dragons, but I am sure there will be pirates and golden crystals from the sun. I thank all of you, so many people I know, and many people I don't, who have kept us in their hearts throughout this journey. In my life, I have never felt such an outpouring of joy. I am not overstating this in a burst of emotion. This is a fact. The love, the welcome, the delight that has flowed into our lives since we knew Cate was coming into our lives, is astonishing. This little girl has magic in her. I feel it all around me. I see it in people's smiles. I hear it in their conversation. We will never know the circumstances that have brought this child to us, but I do know, that this is where she is meant to be, that her coming here has been a coming of joy. There is tangible joy all around her. I feel it all around me. I have all of you to thank for this pure delight and for filling her life with love. You have created for her a family, a community.
This morning was a typical morning. Alex had school. He didn't want to put his shoes on, wanted to fasten his own car seat (an exercise in patience when you are running a little late), needed a snack or he wouldn't have an once of energy for learning or playing. I forgot that Cate cries and fusses unless she buckles a part of her own car seat. I unbuckled her. Took a breath while she did it herself. We had left the windows down. My seat was cold and a little damp. But the sun was shining, the crocuses up.
As we drove toward town, Cate sang. Alex pretended to sleep. He told her to stop. Still she sang. He told her to stop. Still she sang. It had potential to become unpleasant. Then it was quiet. They were both pretending to sleep. I heard a little giggle from Cate. One eye opened, she was trying to see what Alex was up to, so she could do it next. Alex quickly closed his eyes. Then they both flew open again.
"Mom, I can't even believe that Cate is really here. Can you? I just can't believe she is really true."
I feel a catch in my breath, caught off guard, by the depth of this small boy, by the history of hope and emotion in his question. By the reminder that he too had waited and waited.
Next to him, his sister giggles, trying to catch his eye. He closes his eyes and opens them again.
"And Mom, I am just too, too hungry to go to school."
So magnificent and so mundane is this life we lead.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Just Trying It
I put a pillow in Cate's crib last night. Like may things related to Cate, her likes and dislikes, I can thank Alex for this discovery. It has been his insistence that we "just try it" with her that has unearthed many new discoveries, like the knowledge that she loves hard boiled eggs, chili, ginger and bubble baths. And he insisted that a pillow be added to her crib. I balked at the suggestion. My one pre-adoption obsession (besides checking my email and every site even marginally related to Chinese adoption at least every ten minutes) was finding the world's softest blanket and the world's softest toy for Cate. In my mind, I pictured her in a cold, sterile institutionalized setting. The caregivers, I imagined, were kind. But the kind of soft comforts a baby would need to thrive would be absent - replaced with stiff, scratchy, low thread count sheets. I had seen pictures of the stainless steel cribs. I knew this girl needed comfort.
And so, I allowed myself one purchase before we had the "OFFICIAL" word. Just one. And that was a doll. A tiny, soft doll who nestles herself inside an equally luscious peapod. My slightly superstitious nature wouldn't allow me to take responsibility for my breach of conduct. The doll wouldn't be from me... Santa, yes, Santa would bring it. And if he didn't want to, I would just put his name on the tag and slip it under the tree. And that is what I did.
When we were officially, official, I began my blanket quest. I spent at least half a day finalizing the research I had begun a year earlier. I touched blankets. Categories developed. Not soft. Pretty soft. Super soft, but in an unrealistic way. And Perfect. Then for size. Cate is two, and big for her age, so a baby blanket would not do. Neither would a full size blanket. Finally, after much testing and holding up for size, the blanket was found and lovingly packed, along with the tiny peapod doll, into a suitcase headed for China. With these item in tow, no language barrier could ever stand between us. She would FEEL the love and comfort all around her. She would hold it in her hand.
And so we met Cate. We brought her back to our hotel. She looked small and scared and not at all sure she wanted to be with us. Alex and I headed for the suitcase. We pulled out the small panda he had wanted to bring to her. She looked at it, unimpressed, and then flung it across the room. Next, a little lamb, a leftover from Alex's smaller days that pulled at my heartstrings. It too went airborne. "She needs the doll, Mom," he said. I was afraid. "Just try it," the four-year-old advocate insisted. And so we did. This was the first time we saw THE LOOK I have described. She took one look at that baby nestled in a peapod, gave a look of great disdain, and then hit it to the ground with all of her might. Next, she reached for the plastic hotel room key and refused to let go of it for the rest of the day.
And what became of that oh-so-soft- you will never want to let go of this-blanket? Well, I saved it until nightfall. I placed Cate in her crib and put the blanket gently beside her. She paid no notice. But when my head was turned, she stood up and threw it out of the crib. In fact, she threw everything out of the crib. The panda, the lamb, the doll, the blanket, the sheet, the thin mattress, and then she put her head down on the hard bottom and went to sleep. And this is what she has done every night since we have known her, with the exception that I made her work more challenging by adding a beautiful silk quilt to the mix. I figured, she needs the exercise.
So, fast forward three weeks or so... Alex insists we "just try it" with the pillow. I tell him she will throw it out. "Just try it, Mom. Trust me." And so we do. We put a full size pillow in the crib. We put her in the crib, and instead of standing up, she lays right down, her head on the pillow. I put the soft blanket over her. I put the silk quilt on top of that. And just for kicks, I tuck the baby (now out of its peapod wrap) in right beside her. And she smiles, and looks so cute and adorable that I want to crawl into the little nest too. Alex stands triumphant.
I turn out the light and sit down. Cate doesn't move, but begins to talk. And talk, and talk. And sing and laugh and copy any sound I might make - a cough, a sniff. She goes on and on like that, nestled in her pillow bed, and suddenly, instead of tears and cries and sterile cribs, I picture a huge pajama party every night when the lights go low at the orphanage. Little children calling out to their friends, making jokes, and laughing while the nannies quietly sing and shush them to sleep. I start to laugh and Cate laughs back in the darkness. Then, all is silent. The sweet sound of sleep. Or so I think. I crack open my eyes and in the shadowy light, I see her. She is standing. Out goes the silk quilt. Out goes the soft blanket. And yes, finally, the baby doll is flung with as much force as Cate's chubby little little arm can muster.
But the pillow remained. And a moment or two later, I crept out of the room, pausing to look at her peaceful little head nestled in its soft comfort and smiled as I imagine Alex's grin in the morning.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Sunshine Almost Always
The sun poured in every window today. The cats stretched themselves out from head to tail in front of the glass door. Alex's "egg-head" filled with grass seed sprouted in the bay window and even Alex moved himself to a spot where he could bask in the golden glory. I can't remark on the temperature outside - we were all sick and never left the house - but from the inside, it looked and felt as if spring might actually return after all.
And it felt that way in our family too. It was a golden day. We could feel the impossibility beginning to thaw and something beautiful beginning to bloom.
And it felt that way in our family too. It was a golden day. We could feel the impossibility beginning to thaw and something beautiful beginning to bloom.
It didn't start that way. As I said, we all awoke in various states of the same illness. Alex and Cate coughing. My head feeling the size of China and ready to burst. Steve reporting he was two days behind me. Alex announced it was all Cate's fault. Snarled at me. Pointed at his sister and ended up in time-out on the stairs before I could put the tea kettle on to boil. Moments later, Cate found herself in "time-in" on the couch for unprovoked hitting of her brother. And while I struggled to get the tea kettle filled and to the stove, I dragged two children along with me, one clinging to each leg, not out of their pure love for me, as I would have liked, but out of spite for each other.
At 8:30 a.m., up for less than thirty minutes, I looked at the clock and calculated the hours until bedtime. There were many. Oh so many.
But, then something happened. Maybe it was the sun pouring in the window, pulling us all out of the early spring snow-storm depression that brought sloppy snow and (YES) a snow day for Alex on Friday. Maybe it was the silent prayer, that was more like a plea for mercy. Maybe it was a week of patient and, lets be honest, not always so patient persistence with these two new siblings. Maybe it was all three. But the moods shifted and the day became one we won't forget.
The morning passed without much ado. We ate lunch. Cate went down for a nap. Alex and I did a craft... Alex even creating a picture that said, "Mom I Love U," much to my joy after the previous day's harsh rejection. The first good sign, I suppose, was that this all felt normal. Not forced or determined. The next good sign came when Alex asked after about an hour, if Cate was still asleep. She was. A big sigh. "Well, you can't just leave her up there all day you know," her new advocate reported huffily. Hmmm.... was he missing her?
We finished the craft. Spilled hot chocolate all over it. Cleaned up. And Cate was awake. Steve brought her down. She looked unhappy, and when she is unhappy, she looks injured, but not like a baby bird, she looks injured like someone looking for a trial lawyer willing to sue the pants off someone. When Cate is unhappy with something, the person responsible is given a look that leaves no doubt in his mind that what he is done is beyond unacceptable in her eyes. I am not sure where or how she learned to give a look like this, but I pity her boyfriends, her husband, her children and all of those of us along the way that she turns it upon. This look can come out of no where. It can be given in response to a green bean offered up at dinner. It can be given to someone who has been making her laugh, but tried to tickle her one too many times. It is given to her brother for almost everything. It is given to me when I take something (like a tube of lip gloss found in my coat pocket) out of her hand. And after the nap today, we will all recipients of THE LOOK just for looking at her. It didn't look promising.
But the sun did its work on her too. I brought her into the living room and put in a Baby Einstein DVD a friend has dropped off. It is about simple, everyday words, and shows the sign language for each word... maybe she could sign before she could speak... well, Cate wasn't interested, but Alex (the one we have rented 27 movies for during the past two days so he could rest, but not one of them could hold his attention for 15 minutes) was captivated. Go figure. Cate, instead, took off her socks and shoes. You cannot keep socks or shoes on this girl. She takes them off and then she puts them back on with skill and dexterity not often found in a two-year-old. She does this in her crib, in the car, anyplace. She needs no toys. Only socks and an occasional tissue or two. So, she took off her socks. And then mine. And she tried to put her socks on my feet. "They are two small," I said. "Put them on Alex." I knew I was taking a big risk here. At the every least, I would get THE LOOK. At the worst, she would touch him when he didn't want to be touched and all peace would be lost. But Cate laughed. Said "Al-yay," and ran to him. Putting socks on the small feet of a big brother is a challenge. And so, she put them on his hands. And he let her. And then, my heart skipped a beat, and so did Steve's. Cate took Alex by the hand, and hand-in-hand they walked to the other room. We both held our breath. And then we heard laughter. Two children laughing. A minute later, she led Alex back. His face had brightened, like the day. "I guess she likes me!" he said. And I saw so much anger dissolve. He had finally been accepted by his sister and it changed everything. They played like this for a long time. He made her laugh. She made him laugh and we all laughed together.
At dinner, Alex said, "In my heart, my heart is telling me I love Cate a little bit." (We've done a lot of talking about what is in our hearts recently). At bedtime, he searched his room for something to give her and settled on my 1988 MVP volleyball trophy, which might seem like small potatoes to you, but to Alex, this is a golden statue. The greatest of awards. As I read Cate a bedtime story, he carried it proudly into her room and announced that he was giving her the "honor of putting it on her book shelf for five days." Little did I know in 1988 the true reward of that trophy would come twenty years later.
And while I know this is just the beginning, that not all days can be like today, tonight, they went to sleep as friends - as a brother and a sister who love each other, just a little bit, in their hearts.
As we watched the relationship blossoming earlier, Steve looked over at me and said quietly, "We are going to be okay. We are a good family." And a good family is what we were today.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Almost the End
I have contemplated ending my blog. Our journey to China, is, after all, complete. Now begins our journey to becoming a family. But I am not ready to let it go just yet. I have thought of starting a new blog, and I think I will, but for now, I want to savor the last of our journey to Cate.
We have been home for one week. Only one week. It is hard to believe. There is a lot I did not anticipate. It has, honestly, been one of the most challenging and rewarding weeks of my life. I guess any seasoned parent will tell you that it is not easy to go from mother of one to mother of two. I had not anticipated the sheer difficulty of it. As our beloved pediatrician said today, Alex is mourning the loss of the relationship he shared with me and I the relationship I shared with him, and it has not been easy, but we are both ready for the next stage however difficult it may be to get there. And today was a better day than yesterday. But I did not anticipate the sadness or the guilt.
I also did not anticipate the new peals of laughter sounding through this house, the giggles of a little girl so pure that Steve and I look at each other and ask, "How could she have lived in an orphanage?" How could such joy bubble up from a girl who had so little? And I have to believe she had more than we thought. I think she has known a lot of love. Maybe not from a family. Maybe not in the best of circumstances. But this girl has been loved. I do not think often of her birth mother. Not yet. I know that will come. She knew her for such a short time. But I do think about her caregiver. I know she must feel an ache in her heart for this little one, now on the other side of the world.
Cate is pure joy. She is two. Full of games. Full of laughter. Full of tantrums and looks that rock the house. And now she is our pure joy to discover. Yesterday, she said "Mama," for the first time as my name. She has been able to say the word since we got her, but yesterday, it was clear, it had become my name. The tone was different. The intent. Likewise for "Baba." In two days, we have taught her how to hug. In three weeks, I have felt her body, once stiff and resistant, melt into mine, a little at a time. When I gave her a bottle before bed last night, she looked into my eyes, directly into my eyes. It was only for a minute and then she was looking away, and until that moment, I didn't realize that look had been missing. But there it was. Our eyes had met and for a moment, at least, she trusted me completely. It is an amazing thing to form a bond with a small girl from far, far away.
And so I looked tonight at my two sleeping children. The one whose moods and moves I can anticipate before he knows them himself and the one I know so very little about but am eager to discover as her trust in me grows. My life feels complete. And this is what I had anticipated all along.
We have been home for one week. Only one week. It is hard to believe. There is a lot I did not anticipate. It has, honestly, been one of the most challenging and rewarding weeks of my life. I guess any seasoned parent will tell you that it is not easy to go from mother of one to mother of two. I had not anticipated the sheer difficulty of it. As our beloved pediatrician said today, Alex is mourning the loss of the relationship he shared with me and I the relationship I shared with him, and it has not been easy, but we are both ready for the next stage however difficult it may be to get there. And today was a better day than yesterday. But I did not anticipate the sadness or the guilt.
I also did not anticipate the new peals of laughter sounding through this house, the giggles of a little girl so pure that Steve and I look at each other and ask, "How could she have lived in an orphanage?" How could such joy bubble up from a girl who had so little? And I have to believe she had more than we thought. I think she has known a lot of love. Maybe not from a family. Maybe not in the best of circumstances. But this girl has been loved. I do not think often of her birth mother. Not yet. I know that will come. She knew her for such a short time. But I do think about her caregiver. I know she must feel an ache in her heart for this little one, now on the other side of the world.
Cate is pure joy. She is two. Full of games. Full of laughter. Full of tantrums and looks that rock the house. And now she is our pure joy to discover. Yesterday, she said "Mama," for the first time as my name. She has been able to say the word since we got her, but yesterday, it was clear, it had become my name. The tone was different. The intent. Likewise for "Baba." In two days, we have taught her how to hug. In three weeks, I have felt her body, once stiff and resistant, melt into mine, a little at a time. When I gave her a bottle before bed last night, she looked into my eyes, directly into my eyes. It was only for a minute and then she was looking away, and until that moment, I didn't realize that look had been missing. But there it was. Our eyes had met and for a moment, at least, she trusted me completely. It is an amazing thing to form a bond with a small girl from far, far away.
And so I looked tonight at my two sleeping children. The one whose moods and moves I can anticipate before he knows them himself and the one I know so very little about but am eager to discover as her trust in me grows. My life feels complete. And this is what I had anticipated all along.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Alex is back to school today. It is "Silly Day" in honor of Dr. Seues and he is in full silly costume- homemade hat, mismatched socks and shoes, pj's under his T-shirt and pirate pants. In reality, he looks no sillier than he does any other day since he started dressing himself, but this outfit required effort, and I thank Nate's mother for informing us that silly day had arrived... otherwise Alex would have gone to school wearing an Olympic T-shirt and his emperor hat, and that certainly would not have been silly at all. I had hoped to leave Cate at home when I brought Alex back to school - attempting to recreate the normalcy of his life BEFORE and assuring that all attention would be on him for his first day back. But, as Cate does not allow me out of her sight for five minutes, let alone twenty, I could see this scenario would create undo stress. Besides, I reasoned with myself, this IS our new reality. My next idea, was to somehow dress these two children (one in special silly day clothes, which would certainly take several attempts to get just right) and myself, AND get to school early. Early, before the other families arrived and in that way, Alex could get back in the swing of things with the full attention he desperately needs right now. And it almost happened that way, it really almost did... but first, look at the whole morning.
I awoke this morning at 4:45 a.m. (awoke is a generous term here, and by it, I mean, accepted the fact that it was no longer night and sleep should be forgotten) to Cate whimpering and an unpleasant aroma filling the air. While her sleep schedule is adjusting to her new time zone, her other bodily functions are trying to catch up. I stumbled around for my glasses. I knew I had put them by the bed, but they were no where to be seen, not that I could have seen them anyway because I am blind as a bat without them. I tripped over something to her crib and pulled out her whimpering, still sleeping body and began to peel back the multiple layers of clothes that encase her while she sleeps as waves of nausea started to rise in my own body. Anyone who has parented or cared for a young child knows all too well what that smell means. It means a body, covered. It means wondering how to get that body out of the layers of clothing without covering it with a trail that goes from toes to hair. And in this particular case, it meant doing it in the semi-darkness, without seeing and trying hard not to cover myself . I promise, this will be the last very personal detail I will share about my daughter, as she does have a right to privacy, but for now... We got through it. I put her back in the crib, and blessedly, she went back to sleep. I tried, and quickly abandoned hope, opting instead for a cup of tea and a little quiet time to myself.
I got up. The house was freezing. A fresh layer of snow covered the "spring" ground. A ripple of fear swept through my body - was there ice under it? Would there be a snow day today? There just had to be school. Had to be. I made it down the stairs, tripping over the dozen or so plastic eggs that lie everywhere around our house, walked to the stove, pausing to pull Easter grass out from between my toes, put on the tea kettle... what was that I heard? Small feet following closely behind. Alex, up for the day. Good bye quiet time, but it wasn't so bad. It gave me a chance to give him a little cuddle of his own - one he did not have to share and one that I did not have to navigate with comments like, "Come on you two... both sides of my lap are just as good as the other. Alex, please don't put your foot there, that is your sister's leg. This is your leg. Cate, it is okay if I talk to your brother sometimes." It is good to be popular, but it comes at a cost.
We made it through breakfast. One meal for Cate, one for Alex, one for me, and fortunately, Steve is self-sufficient and is now able to feed Cate. I kicked aside the plastic egg shells and shoved the array of hats, mittens, dishes, mail, telescopes and sippy cups cluttering the counter. I tip-toed around yesterday's egg yolk on the floor and wondered where to toss the new pile of freshly soiled clothes. I tried to turn on the T.V, for Alex, jumping over the fallen playhouse, a mountain of blankets, an abandon Easter basket, a pair of plastic sunglasses and an apple core that must have been there from our pre-China days... had it been dragged out from its hiding place by a mouse in the night? On the table, my list of to-do's - kindergarten registration, bills due, thank you's to write, phone calls to return, and I wondered just what I thought was so difficult in my hotel room in China? Was it really that challenging to live in a small room with only three toys and our four sets of clothes sent to Stella in the morning to be laundered and sent back in neat piles wrapped in plastic each afternoon for only $10? Was it so hard to get dressed and head down to a breakfast buffet that could feed a small nation and return to my room where the beds had been made and the bathroom put in order? Was that really a challenge? What was it about home that we needed? I thought I needed my hair styling products since I lost the one thing I had brought somewhere between Beijing and Guangzhou, but even looking at the collection, Aveda for frizzy hair nestled next to Paul Mitchell for smooth, next to Suave for curls, filled me with a sense of dismayed pressure. If I owned all these products, had them all at my fingertips, I must be expected to use them and look like I had used them. In China, I just said, "I lost my mousse, and every woman nodded a kind of knowing nod and expressed her deepest sympathy with her eyes, in a way no man (metrosexuals not withstanding) could ever understand.
And so, I find myself, again at home, and happy. I have unpacked slowly. With each item put away, with each souvenir handed out, China recedes a little further, and while I hesitate to let her go, I am anxious to feel the heartbeat of a normal day. A normal night. The boredom and comfort of routine.
And so, Alex was ready for school. Ready early. Cate was dressed. Her shoes found and put on, her coat and hat on (by this time, it was raining and sleeting that early spring type of rain) and we headed for the door... but wait. What was that smell? Off with the shoes, the coat, the pants. And so, Alex was a little late. Just a little. And it didn't matter that he was late, or that Cate was with us and shared the attention. A "Welcome Back, Alex" sign hung on the door. A favorite teacher waited inside who scooped him up and hugged him furiously and all the silly hats and clothes gave the feeling of a party, just for him. Cate got gentle welcomes and words of praise. And it was good to be home.
I awoke this morning at 4:45 a.m. (awoke is a generous term here, and by it, I mean, accepted the fact that it was no longer night and sleep should be forgotten) to Cate whimpering and an unpleasant aroma filling the air. While her sleep schedule is adjusting to her new time zone, her other bodily functions are trying to catch up. I stumbled around for my glasses. I knew I had put them by the bed, but they were no where to be seen, not that I could have seen them anyway because I am blind as a bat without them. I tripped over something to her crib and pulled out her whimpering, still sleeping body and began to peel back the multiple layers of clothes that encase her while she sleeps as waves of nausea started to rise in my own body. Anyone who has parented or cared for a young child knows all too well what that smell means. It means a body, covered. It means wondering how to get that body out of the layers of clothing without covering it with a trail that goes from toes to hair. And in this particular case, it meant doing it in the semi-darkness, without seeing and trying hard not to cover myself . I promise, this will be the last very personal detail I will share about my daughter, as she does have a right to privacy, but for now... We got through it. I put her back in the crib, and blessedly, she went back to sleep. I tried, and quickly abandoned hope, opting instead for a cup of tea and a little quiet time to myself.
I got up. The house was freezing. A fresh layer of snow covered the "spring" ground. A ripple of fear swept through my body - was there ice under it? Would there be a snow day today? There just had to be school. Had to be. I made it down the stairs, tripping over the dozen or so plastic eggs that lie everywhere around our house, walked to the stove, pausing to pull Easter grass out from between my toes, put on the tea kettle... what was that I heard? Small feet following closely behind. Alex, up for the day. Good bye quiet time, but it wasn't so bad. It gave me a chance to give him a little cuddle of his own - one he did not have to share and one that I did not have to navigate with comments like, "Come on you two... both sides of my lap are just as good as the other. Alex, please don't put your foot there, that is your sister's leg. This is your leg. Cate, it is okay if I talk to your brother sometimes." It is good to be popular, but it comes at a cost.
We made it through breakfast. One meal for Cate, one for Alex, one for me, and fortunately, Steve is self-sufficient and is now able to feed Cate. I kicked aside the plastic egg shells and shoved the array of hats, mittens, dishes, mail, telescopes and sippy cups cluttering the counter. I tip-toed around yesterday's egg yolk on the floor and wondered where to toss the new pile of freshly soiled clothes. I tried to turn on the T.V, for Alex, jumping over the fallen playhouse, a mountain of blankets, an abandon Easter basket, a pair of plastic sunglasses and an apple core that must have been there from our pre-China days... had it been dragged out from its hiding place by a mouse in the night? On the table, my list of to-do's - kindergarten registration, bills due, thank you's to write, phone calls to return, and I wondered just what I thought was so difficult in my hotel room in China? Was it really that challenging to live in a small room with only three toys and our four sets of clothes sent to Stella in the morning to be laundered and sent back in neat piles wrapped in plastic each afternoon for only $10? Was it so hard to get dressed and head down to a breakfast buffet that could feed a small nation and return to my room where the beds had been made and the bathroom put in order? Was that really a challenge? What was it about home that we needed? I thought I needed my hair styling products since I lost the one thing I had brought somewhere between Beijing and Guangzhou, but even looking at the collection, Aveda for frizzy hair nestled next to Paul Mitchell for smooth, next to Suave for curls, filled me with a sense of dismayed pressure. If I owned all these products, had them all at my fingertips, I must be expected to use them and look like I had used them. In China, I just said, "I lost my mousse, and every woman nodded a kind of knowing nod and expressed her deepest sympathy with her eyes, in a way no man (metrosexuals not withstanding) could ever understand.
And so, I find myself, again at home, and happy. I have unpacked slowly. With each item put away, with each souvenir handed out, China recedes a little further, and while I hesitate to let her go, I am anxious to feel the heartbeat of a normal day. A normal night. The boredom and comfort of routine.
And so, Alex was ready for school. Ready early. Cate was dressed. Her shoes found and put on, her coat and hat on (by this time, it was raining and sleeting that early spring type of rain) and we headed for the door... but wait. What was that smell? Off with the shoes, the coat, the pants. And so, Alex was a little late. Just a little. And it didn't matter that he was late, or that Cate was with us and shared the attention. A "Welcome Back, Alex" sign hung on the door. A favorite teacher waited inside who scooped him up and hugged him furiously and all the silly hats and clothes gave the feeling of a party, just for him. Cate got gentle welcomes and words of praise. And it was good to be home.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Early morning
Oprah highly discourages eating a bowl of beef stew and a hunk of Italian bread at 2:30 a.m. It goes against every principle on her weight loss plan. But Oprah has probably never been up at 2 a.m. with two jet-lagged children two nights in a row, and while this is the pits, there is something irresistableabout a little girl in fuzzy, pink one piece jammies and a wide-eyed boy happy to be back in his own castle. Even at 2 a.m.
It was at about this time yesterday morning that I realized we would all be okay. I have felt an unexpected sadness about Alex being pushed into the role of the big boy. I know it is crazy and that everyone who has a younger sibling eventually experienced this right of passage, but the guilt of motherhood is heavy and I wondered is I would ever again see that innocent little boy who painted "Alex and Cate" on a T shirt and covered it with hearts, that little boy who went crazy every time he saw a lantern or saw a Chinese character. Would he be back, now that his fantasy had turned to reality?
He emerged yesterday at 4 a. m. as he ate his third bowl of cereal and prattled non-stop about the virtues of milk - healthy bones, healthy eyes, and what about carrots? They are so healthy too. I listened over tea and knew he would be okay.
We left NJ around 7 a.m. and both Alex and Cate slept the entire four hour drive home. "Home," we told Cate. "We are staying here. This is your home." And as the day unfolded, it felt that way. Two siblings, feeling their way around. Each already jealous of the other. Each already pushing the buttons of the other. And an occasional moment or two, where they would play together happily.
Cate met her Nonni and Otsey, here waiting with dinner and balloons and flowers, waiting for their family to be back. And it took a few hours, but Cate, little Cate whose world has changed ten times over during the past two weeks, started to open up and laugh and play.
There is one good thing about jet lag. It lends a dream-like quality to this unbelievable experience. Both ends of our trip are clouded by its haze, and if it were not for this snugly, pink girl sitting next to me, I would wonder if we were ever really there. Were we there on the other side of the world? Were we there in China? I have only to look to my left to see that the dream has come true.
It was at about this time yesterday morning that I realized we would all be okay. I have felt an unexpected sadness about Alex being pushed into the role of the big boy. I know it is crazy and that everyone who has a younger sibling eventually experienced this right of passage, but the guilt of motherhood is heavy and I wondered is I would ever again see that innocent little boy who painted "Alex and Cate" on a T shirt and covered it with hearts, that little boy who went crazy every time he saw a lantern or saw a Chinese character. Would he be back, now that his fantasy had turned to reality?
He emerged yesterday at 4 a. m. as he ate his third bowl of cereal and prattled non-stop about the virtues of milk - healthy bones, healthy eyes, and what about carrots? They are so healthy too. I listened over tea and knew he would be okay.
We left NJ around 7 a.m. and both Alex and Cate slept the entire four hour drive home. "Home," we told Cate. "We are staying here. This is your home." And as the day unfolded, it felt that way. Two siblings, feeling their way around. Each already jealous of the other. Each already pushing the buttons of the other. And an occasional moment or two, where they would play together happily.
Cate met her Nonni and Otsey, here waiting with dinner and balloons and flowers, waiting for their family to be back. And it took a few hours, but Cate, little Cate whose world has changed ten times over during the past two weeks, started to open up and laugh and play.
There is one good thing about jet lag. It lends a dream-like quality to this unbelievable experience. Both ends of our trip are clouded by its haze, and if it were not for this snugly, pink girl sitting next to me, I would wonder if we were ever really there. Were we there on the other side of the world? Were we there in China? I have only to look to my left to see that the dream has come true.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The Eagle has Landed in Newark
We are back in the USA and much has transpired since my last post.
Most importantly - Steve has been able to pick Cate up! Only for a few moments, and only in search of me, but it is a major milestone. And I have to add, that she looks for him everywhere... when he is out of sight, she is not happy and she truly looks to him when she wants to play. I predict within a month of two, she will be a daddy's girl, and my work will be done.
Cate became a U.S. citizen in Newark. I wondered as we handed over the sealed documents from the U.S. Consulate in Guangzhou, the ones with warnings written all over them that we were not to break the seal, if she could have any idea what this would mean to her someday. I was carrying her in a little hip bag, and for the first time during our very long, wearisome day, she was a bit fussy. So, she cried and complained as the customs official broke the seal and I thought of how very many people around the world would dream of this moment, even recognizing what they would leave behind, would dream of this chance to come to this country and call it home. And I realized, what we had dreamed for Cate was just a place to call home. And tomorrow, she will see that home for the first time.
But, first, our swearing in. I will admit to getting a little teary, even as the youngish adoption officer asked about what state we were from, joked about sports teams and then had us raise our hands and swear and oath that everything we had said in our documentation was true (as if there could have been the possibility of falsehood after all the fingerprinting, clearances and references we have provided). Anyway - it was short. Over in ten seconds, and not nearly the solemn occasion I had imagined in my mind. But still, it was done, and Cate was 100% ours, ready to take home, in both the eyes of China and the U.S.A., and so a tear did come to my eye.
That evening, Steve and Alex had plans so I went to meet our new friends for dinner at a Chinese regional restaurant in the hotel. I just could not order a pizza on my last night in China and I wanted to seize my last opportunity for something authentic. Without the energetic Alex, I planned for a relaxing meal, and then back to the room to pack before our 5 a.m. wake-up call. But, I was wrong. It was Cate, easy-going, quiet Cate, who lost it at dinner. Just as the first course of the meal was delivered, she lost it. Lost it in that way from which you know there will be no recovery. We fled. Ran to the elevators and had to wait five crying, terror-filled minutes before an empty car opened up. I took her to the room, and she cried and cried and cried with an anger and anxiety that broke my heart. I have seen this same out-of-control, angry, over, over-tired cry from Alex. But in Cate, I felt it was a little more, almost like she knew that another great change was coming, before she had figured out who we were and where she was and why she kept waking up in different places, and where were all the people she had known before? I tried to give her a bottle, but she threw it. I put her in her crib, and for the first time, she screamed. So, I did what I would do with her brother in that state, I picked her up, and held her tense, fighting body as closely to me as I could and I started to sing. And in that moment, I became her mother. For real and forever. In that desperate moment, she quieted, and put her head on my chest, and I became her mother. To me, and I think, to her.
Steve and Alex came back shortly after that, and our new, dear friends, had my meal packed and brought to my room. And we sat on the floor, all together, and ate, which is probably what we really needed most before packing and a 5 a.m. wake-up call.
Somehow, we managed to fit it all into our luggage - all we had brought and all we had acquired in China. It was outside of our hotel room at 6 a.m. We carried two sleepy children to breakfast and then boarded the bus to the airport for the first leg of our flight - the trip back to Beijing. And here is how it went.... When I stepped off the bus at 7:30 a.m., I knew my new baby had a bad smell. What I did not know until I stood up was that the source of that bad smell was running down my shirt, down my pants and onto my shoes. And so begins the journey of 24 hours and 12 zillion miles. What I also did not know was that that same baby would need to be changed ten times in the teeny-teeny-tiny bathroom of an airplane ten times that same day... so memories of my trip home will be clouded with a certain aroma I would rather forget. We ran out of diapers. We ran out of wipes. We ran out of clean clothes. Luckily, there were friends to help with the first two items and her brother's extra set of clothes to help with the other.
The first few hours of the trip were the hardest. Overtired parents and children are not a good match, especially when you arrive at the airport and discover you have towait to board a very crowded bus to get to your plane.We finally arrived in Beijing about five hours later, only to discover our flight was delayed by two hours, turning our three hour lay-over to five. But, ever attempting to be the optimist, I decided this would increase the chance that we would all sleep on the way home. And we did, and 14 hours didn't seem as long as it had going to China, although we had a new traveller along. As luck would have it, Cate and I shared an aisle with a kind Chinese man, who now lives in Canada, and a smiling face can put a very different spin on a trip than one whose eyes say, "Oh, great. I am next to a kid." Cate did well, and I will always be grateful to the kind eyes and curiosity of of our smiling seat-mate.
And so, we arrived in Newark, and unexpectedly, I found myself again, choked up and my eyes filled with tears. We had made it. This whole incredible, tiring, fantastic, stressful and memorable journey. We had made it. We had brought Cate home.
Tonight, we stay with Omi and Pop Pop, and much to our surprise, Cate seems to have quickly felt almost at ease here. We don't know if she has ever been in a home before and here she is with her grandparents and her uncle, a dog and a cat and an Easter basket. Has she ever been given a present? She gives little notice to the toys, but carefully organizes the candy. Now she sleeps, in a crib bed made just for her. What does she make of it all? We don't know. At times she laughs and smiles, at others, seems overwhelmed. But I hope that she knows, as crazy as it all has been, as crazy as it all will be, as crazy as we all can be, she is with her forever family now.
Most importantly - Steve has been able to pick Cate up! Only for a few moments, and only in search of me, but it is a major milestone. And I have to add, that she looks for him everywhere... when he is out of sight, she is not happy and she truly looks to him when she wants to play. I predict within a month of two, she will be a daddy's girl, and my work will be done.
Cate became a U.S. citizen in Newark. I wondered as we handed over the sealed documents from the U.S. Consulate in Guangzhou, the ones with warnings written all over them that we were not to break the seal, if she could have any idea what this would mean to her someday. I was carrying her in a little hip bag, and for the first time during our very long, wearisome day, she was a bit fussy. So, she cried and complained as the customs official broke the seal and I thought of how very many people around the world would dream of this moment, even recognizing what they would leave behind, would dream of this chance to come to this country and call it home. And I realized, what we had dreamed for Cate was just a place to call home. And tomorrow, she will see that home for the first time.
But, first, our swearing in. I will admit to getting a little teary, even as the youngish adoption officer asked about what state we were from, joked about sports teams and then had us raise our hands and swear and oath that everything we had said in our documentation was true (as if there could have been the possibility of falsehood after all the fingerprinting, clearances and references we have provided). Anyway - it was short. Over in ten seconds, and not nearly the solemn occasion I had imagined in my mind. But still, it was done, and Cate was 100% ours, ready to take home, in both the eyes of China and the U.S.A., and so a tear did come to my eye.
That evening, Steve and Alex had plans so I went to meet our new friends for dinner at a Chinese regional restaurant in the hotel. I just could not order a pizza on my last night in China and I wanted to seize my last opportunity for something authentic. Without the energetic Alex, I planned for a relaxing meal, and then back to the room to pack before our 5 a.m. wake-up call. But, I was wrong. It was Cate, easy-going, quiet Cate, who lost it at dinner. Just as the first course of the meal was delivered, she lost it. Lost it in that way from which you know there will be no recovery. We fled. Ran to the elevators and had to wait five crying, terror-filled minutes before an empty car opened up. I took her to the room, and she cried and cried and cried with an anger and anxiety that broke my heart. I have seen this same out-of-control, angry, over, over-tired cry from Alex. But in Cate, I felt it was a little more, almost like she knew that another great change was coming, before she had figured out who we were and where she was and why she kept waking up in different places, and where were all the people she had known before? I tried to give her a bottle, but she threw it. I put her in her crib, and for the first time, she screamed. So, I did what I would do with her brother in that state, I picked her up, and held her tense, fighting body as closely to me as I could and I started to sing. And in that moment, I became her mother. For real and forever. In that desperate moment, she quieted, and put her head on my chest, and I became her mother. To me, and I think, to her.
Steve and Alex came back shortly after that, and our new, dear friends, had my meal packed and brought to my room. And we sat on the floor, all together, and ate, which is probably what we really needed most before packing and a 5 a.m. wake-up call.
Somehow, we managed to fit it all into our luggage - all we had brought and all we had acquired in China. It was outside of our hotel room at 6 a.m. We carried two sleepy children to breakfast and then boarded the bus to the airport for the first leg of our flight - the trip back to Beijing. And here is how it went.... When I stepped off the bus at 7:30 a.m., I knew my new baby had a bad smell. What I did not know until I stood up was that the source of that bad smell was running down my shirt, down my pants and onto my shoes. And so begins the journey of 24 hours and 12 zillion miles. What I also did not know was that that same baby would need to be changed ten times in the teeny-teeny-tiny bathroom of an airplane ten times that same day... so memories of my trip home will be clouded with a certain aroma I would rather forget. We ran out of diapers. We ran out of wipes. We ran out of clean clothes. Luckily, there were friends to help with the first two items and her brother's extra set of clothes to help with the other.
The first few hours of the trip were the hardest. Overtired parents and children are not a good match, especially when you arrive at the airport and discover you have towait to board a very crowded bus to get to your plane.We finally arrived in Beijing about five hours later, only to discover our flight was delayed by two hours, turning our three hour lay-over to five. But, ever attempting to be the optimist, I decided this would increase the chance that we would all sleep on the way home. And we did, and 14 hours didn't seem as long as it had going to China, although we had a new traveller along. As luck would have it, Cate and I shared an aisle with a kind Chinese man, who now lives in Canada, and a smiling face can put a very different spin on a trip than one whose eyes say, "Oh, great. I am next to a kid." Cate did well, and I will always be grateful to the kind eyes and curiosity of of our smiling seat-mate.
And so, we arrived in Newark, and unexpectedly, I found myself again, choked up and my eyes filled with tears. We had made it. This whole incredible, tiring, fantastic, stressful and memorable journey. We had made it. We had brought Cate home.
Tonight, we stay with Omi and Pop Pop, and much to our surprise, Cate seems to have quickly felt almost at ease here. We don't know if she has ever been in a home before and here she is with her grandparents and her uncle, a dog and a cat and an Easter basket. Has she ever been given a present? She gives little notice to the toys, but carefully organizes the candy. Now she sleeps, in a crib bed made just for her. What does she make of it all? We don't know. At times she laughs and smiles, at others, seems overwhelmed. But I hope that she knows, as crazy as it all has been, as crazy as it all will be, as crazy as we all can be, she is with her forever family now.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
East Meets West
It is our last day in China. It is hard to believe. It seems we have been here a lifetime, and then again, not much time at all. It is a good day for farewell, the kind that leaves a feeling of bittersweet, of leaving a place just a little too soon, and hoping someday to return. The sun is shining bright, it is about 80 degrees, Alex and Hazel have spent the day together, laughing and playing, at the playground, in the pool. They have had such fun and it is all so beautiful here, so while our thoughts our turned toward home, we grasp at every last second we have in China.
In about a half an hour, we will meet our group for the famous "Red Couch Photo." This picture is taken of every group of adopted children who stay at the White Swan on their journey to America. Today is the day when the six beautiful children of our group will sit in Chinese costume and have their photo taken. I expect some tears will be shed - by babies, by parents, by grandparents and family - by all. Then we are off to the consulate for the swearing in ceremony.
This will probably be my last post from China, and I am too emotional to write more now as this trip I have dreamed of for so long come to its end. We are to have our luggage in the hall tomorrow at 6 a.m., and catch the bus to the airport at 6:30 a.m., so tonight will be busy with packing and preparing.
See you back on the other side of the world!
In about a half an hour, we will meet our group for the famous "Red Couch Photo." This picture is taken of every group of adopted children who stay at the White Swan on their journey to America. Today is the day when the six beautiful children of our group will sit in Chinese costume and have their photo taken. I expect some tears will be shed - by babies, by parents, by grandparents and family - by all. Then we are off to the consulate for the swearing in ceremony.
This will probably be my last post from China, and I am too emotional to write more now as this trip I have dreamed of for so long come to its end. We are to have our luggage in the hall tomorrow at 6 a.m., and catch the bus to the airport at 6:30 a.m., so tonight will be busy with packing and preparing.
See you back on the other side of the world!
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Sleep Needed!
Well, it is 1:30 a.m. and I am wide awake again... maybe my body is already switching over to the time back home.
We had a quiet day yesterday- the playground, the pool, dinner at a Cantonese restaurant in the hotel, where I was dying to try the sweetened swallow's nest, but was sure it would be worth 380 Y, especially since it said it was for one... but we did have excellent dim sum and a few other Cantonese specialities.
We even had ice cream - we tried green tea, red bean and mango - all very good. We tried to give some to Cate, but she made a face as if we had given her a lemon. I think it was too cold for her. This girl can drink water and tea at near boiling temperatures, but hasn't developed the taste for cold, I guess.
Tomorrow is our last day. I will try to write more then. Now, I will try to get back to sleep.
We had a quiet day yesterday- the playground, the pool, dinner at a Cantonese restaurant in the hotel, where I was dying to try the sweetened swallow's nest, but was sure it would be worth 380 Y, especially since it said it was for one... but we did have excellent dim sum and a few other Cantonese specialities.
We even had ice cream - we tried green tea, red bean and mango - all very good. We tried to give some to Cate, but she made a face as if we had given her a lemon. I think it was too cold for her. This girl can drink water and tea at near boiling temperatures, but hasn't developed the taste for cold, I guess.
Tomorrow is our last day. I will try to write more then. Now, I will try to get back to sleep.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Night
I enjoyed a couple of hours to myself tonight, after Alex and Cate were both asleep. Steve wanted me to get out and experience this place in the evening, when darkness had made a beautiful place magical. I sat along the Pearl River, under a tree dripping with moss. Red lanterns swayed in the breeze, the water alive as tour boats drifted slowly up and down and the vivid shoreline of Guangzhou glowed a neon spectrum of color, Chinese opera music floated from somewhere all around. I sat and drank lemon tea, strong and bitter and hot as couples sat drinking beer, expats smoked and examined pieces of jade with a magnifying glass, the happy bliss of not understanding the conversation around me, except for the lilt of a British accent, overhead when the breeze changed directions or the music paused. I sat and took a breath. I smelled the musty haze, the river, the faint scent of flowers and seafood. I exhaled the relief that all the documents I have needed and collected and agonized over are now out of my hands, the joy that my new daughter, the one I have waited so long for, was sleeping, not far from her brother, the one I had also waited so long for. 
The happiness that Steve and I have done this together, that we have built this family and that we will raise it together and that this trip has only strengthened our bond. In my next breath, I tried again to absorb all of this, all of this beauty, all of the stress, all that has come to pass so I can tell the story again and again to my children. The story of how we became a family in a land so far away. I tried to absorb it all so one day I can tell my daughter how it was when she was born to us, to our family. And then I came back, to the darkened hotel room, aglow only with the lights of the river outside, where my family lies sleep.
That same spot by the river will always have magic in my memory. It is where we have first seem Cate run and laugh with such joy. It is a spot where Alex was able to explore and just be a kid in a trip filled with times when being a kid isn't that easy at all. It is the spot where Alex and his new friend, Hazel, ran today, collecting giant poppy colored blossoms as they fell from the trees, high above our heads like so many fat raindrops, and together created a collage of color on the stones between their two mothers. It is the spot, where a kind Chinese man encouraged Alex to try a game like hacky-sack, kicking a weighted feather from foot to foot, and we all stopped and gave it a try and shared a laugh with the man, his wife and his son. It is a spot that has brought us much happiness.
Tonight, we found a Thai restuarant for dinner. The food was fine, nothing remarkable, but what fun we had reading the menu.... deep fried goose intestines, tripe, fish head soup, swallow's nest soup... we have seen salty duck chins, soft salted chicken bones, fresh mud eel... I cannot even remeber them all, but I think it will take several trips to China before we become that adventurous in our eating. I ordered something like pad thai, tasty and filled with squid tenticles and heads. I asked Alex if he would like some noodles. He said, "No thanks, but I do want to try the body parts."
Don't be surprised to find him living in Hong Kong someday.
The happiness that Steve and I have done this together, that we have built this family and that we will raise it together and that this trip has only strengthened our bond. In my next breath, I tried again to absorb all of this, all of this beauty, all of the stress, all that has come to pass so I can tell the story again and again to my children. The story of how we became a family in a land so far away. I tried to absorb it all so one day I can tell my daughter how it was when she was born to us, to our family. And then I came back, to the darkened hotel room, aglow only with the lights of the river outside, where my family lies sleep.That same spot by the river will always have magic in my memory. It is where we have first seem Cate run and laugh with such joy. It is a spot where Alex was able to explore and just be a kid in a trip filled with times when being a kid isn't that easy at all. It is the spot where Alex and his new friend, Hazel, ran today, collecting giant poppy colored blossoms as they fell from the trees, high above our heads like so many fat raindrops, and together created a collage of color on the stones between their two mothers. It is the spot, where a kind Chinese man encouraged Alex to try a game like hacky-sack, kicking a weighted feather from foot to foot, and we all stopped and gave it a try and shared a laugh with the man, his wife and his son. It is a spot that has brought us much happiness.
Tonight, we found a Thai restuarant for dinner. The food was fine, nothing remarkable, but what fun we had reading the menu.... deep fried goose intestines, tripe, fish head soup, swallow's nest soup... we have seen salty duck chins, soft salted chicken bones, fresh mud eel... I cannot even remeber them all, but I think it will take several trips to China before we become that adventurous in our eating. I ordered something like pad thai, tasty and filled with squid tenticles and heads. I asked Alex if he would like some noodles. He said, "No thanks, but I do want to try the body parts."
Don't be surprised to find him living in Hong Kong someday.
One Week - New Kid
It is hard to believe that we have had Cate with us for one week already. She is such a different child then the one whose eyes were filled with fear and tears seven days ago. She is a giggling, laughing girl who chases her daddy, follows me like a shadow, and likes to play games with her brother. I will never find the words to describe the remarkable transformations of the six children in our group. It is truly something you have to experience to even believe. When I think of all these babies have been through in their short lives, the true fear and agony of last Monday, it is a true testament to the resilience of the human spirit to see them all now, already so bonded to their new families. And while it will take time, love and patience before all the fearfulness and distrust disappears, that time will come.
Alex spent the evening very sick - I think because he ate some lettuce at dinner (at least, that is what I hope... no time for a virus now!) I didn't think to take it off his plate because he never eats lettuce and it was sitting next to a big pile of french fries, but when I looked over at him, he was munching it down. Two hours later, the poor thing was so very ill. Thank goodness, his stomach seemed to calm down around 8:30 p.m. and he slept soundly through the night. Today, he is himself, only happier and more agreeable than he has been in quite awhile. We just spent some time together in the pool and he and Steve are still out swimming. It is a dream pool for a kid - right next to the river, which is busy with barges and fishing boats. There is a waterfall tumbling into the pool and behind it a cave, which make for great dares and adventure. He has made two friends - Hazel and Emily, other siblings traveling with our group and they all spent time together today on the playground and in the pool. He is a happy boy.
Cate had her medical examination today for her visa application. All of our paperwork will be brought to the American consulate tomorrow morning. She was not happy about the exam, crying the minute she saw a white coat, but it didn't last long and now it so over and we are one step closer to being able to bring her home.
Steve has worked hard to win her affection, and last night, he finally was rewarded. We were walking along the river. Cate was hanging back and at the last minute charging forward, laughing like crazy, to chase Steve. She caught him and hugged his leg. It is a moment he won't forget.
We are excited to enjoy another day here. The weather today is amazingly humid and it is just SO nice to walk around in summer clothesand feel a little like we are on vacation.
Alex spent the evening very sick - I think because he ate some lettuce at dinner (at least, that is what I hope... no time for a virus now!) I didn't think to take it off his plate because he never eats lettuce and it was sitting next to a big pile of french fries, but when I looked over at him, he was munching it down. Two hours later, the poor thing was so very ill. Thank goodness, his stomach seemed to calm down around 8:30 p.m. and he slept soundly through the night. Today, he is himself, only happier and more agreeable than he has been in quite awhile. We just spent some time together in the pool and he and Steve are still out swimming. It is a dream pool for a kid - right next to the river, which is busy with barges and fishing boats. There is a waterfall tumbling into the pool and behind it a cave, which make for great dares and adventure. He has made two friends - Hazel and Emily, other siblings traveling with our group and they all spent time together today on the playground and in the pool. He is a happy boy.
Cate had her medical examination today for her visa application. All of our paperwork will be brought to the American consulate tomorrow morning. She was not happy about the exam, crying the minute she saw a white coat, but it didn't last long and now it so over and we are one step closer to being able to bring her home.
Steve has worked hard to win her affection, and last night, he finally was rewarded. We were walking along the river. Cate was hanging back and at the last minute charging forward, laughing like crazy, to chase Steve. She caught him and hugged his leg. It is a moment he won't forget.
We are excited to enjoy another day here. The weather today is amazingly humid and it is just SO nice to walk around in summer clothesand feel a little like we are on vacation.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Playgrounds, Pools and Shopping
First, Steve has posted some videos and photos at: http://picasaweb.google.com/skbohler/ChinaTrip
Cate loves to play games. She loves to chase Steve. She sees him ahead and screams, "BABA!" and takes off after him, laughing and running. Then she runs back to me and does it again. It is amazing to watch her playful personality unfold.
We borrowed a stroller today from the laundry across the street, excited to get out and explore this little island. The minute I put Cate in it, she began to cry. This is the second or third time she has cried when I have set her down in something and I don't know why. Maybe at the orphanage she had to spend a lot of time seated in a walker or a high chair and she feels trapped. I am not sure. There is so much about her life we will never know. I reassured her and started to walk. She cried for a few moments, then sat tentatively and finally, relaxed and started to laugh and play games in the stroller. I wish I could just carry her every place because I am sure it is better for the bonding process, but she weighs only a pound or two less than Alex... that coupled with the fact that she won't let Steve hold her has made for a lot of back strain over the past few days. The stroller was a welcome relief.
We borrowed a stroller today from the laundry across the street, excited to get out and explore this little island. The minute I put Cate in it, she began to cry. This is the second or third time she has cried when I have set her down in something and I don't know why. Maybe at the orphanage she had to spend a lot of time seated in a walker or a high chair and she feels trapped. I am not sure. There is so much about her life we will never know. I reassured her and started to walk. She cried for a few moments, then sat tentatively and finally, relaxed and started to laugh and play games in the stroller. I wish I could just carry her every place because I am sure it is better for the bonding process, but she weighs only a pound or two less than Alex... that coupled with the fact that she won't let Steve hold her has made for a lot of back strain over the past few days. The stroller was a welcome relief.
Anyway, it is beautiful here. Quiet and a little surreal because there are so many adoptive families here on the last leg of their journey back home. The shops are geared toward proud parents eager to buy Chinese dresses and squeaky shoes and souvenirs to bring home, but the shop owners are friendly, the shopping is fun and the prices are great. (I will admit that I did see the very same outfit I discussed in my last post for 49 rmb.... in Nanjing the woman started at 298 and I bought it for around 120 or 140....oh, well...) We strolled every place. After six months of winter in NY, the trees, the flowers, the warm, humid air, the prospect of swimming are spoiling us and creating denial of the fact that we will go home to, at best, mud season, and at worse, a few more weeks of winter. The warm breeze on my skin and the frizz in my hair have me envisioning evenings on the deck and days at the beach upon our return. It will be tough to readjust.
We walked along the river. Older men and women were out practicing Ti Chi, some with wooden swords, others, just movement. Another group danced. Children and parents and grandparents played badminton in the open spaces. It was good to be out with the feeling of a carefree Sunday in the air. We discovered a playground teaming with children and Alex played for an hour, delighted, I am sure, to have found a spot made for kids, relatively free of rules. Cate watched for awhile and then hopped out and started to run. Someone came along with a small dog, and she was captivated. I have been told that the children from orphanages are usually afraid of animals, sometimes even stuffed animals, because they usually have had no contact with them before, but Cate loved the dog and I had to pull her back to keep her from running right up to it.
At the moment, she is napping. Steve and Alex are out at the pool and I am sitting here in the dark. The Going Home Barbie (disturbing on too many levels to discuss), a gift from the hotel, lays on the bed, and I wonder, if by the time I leave Guangzhou, I too will be blond, blued-eyed, enormously busted, dressed to kill and carrying a dainty little Chinese baby with a placid smile on her face... somehow, I think not... but as I emerge from the plane in Newark, sweaty, frizzy, smelly, bags under my eyes to my toes with a heavy crying two-year-old and a kicking and screaming four-year-old (who will not want to leave China, I am sure), I will have that serene Barbie smile on my face ( and I will haggle for a silk miracle bra to take care of the rest).
At the moment, she is napping. Steve and Alex are out at the pool and I am sitting here in the dark. The Going Home Barbie (disturbing on too many levels to discuss), a gift from the hotel, lays on the bed, and I wonder, if by the time I leave Guangzhou, I too will be blond, blued-eyed, enormously busted, dressed to kill and carrying a dainty little Chinese baby with a placid smile on her face... somehow, I think not... but as I emerge from the plane in Newark, sweaty, frizzy, smelly, bags under my eyes to my toes with a heavy crying two-year-old and a kicking and screaming four-year-old (who will not want to leave China, I am sure), I will have that serene Barbie smile on my face ( and I will haggle for a silk miracle bra to take care of the rest).
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Palm Trees, Mai Tai.. a touch of vacation
So first a report from yesterday... we had a day to ourselves and decided to take a taxi to the Confucius Temple Marketplace, a bustling hub of shops and people nestled along the river. At the center, a golden tree and pagoda. We just wanted a chance to haggle and have a little fun. I wanted to find Cate a silk outfit so I walked into the first silk shop I saw. Before my eyes could adjust to the light inside, the owner had thrust an outfit in front of my face. I hadn't looked at our touched a thing, and I will tell you now, that I now own that very outfit and I have absolutely no idea what else was in the shop! All I know is I can hold a lighter up to this outfit and it will not catch on fire. The shop owner did this to prove it is 100% silk, and as a girl who wears a lot of highly flammable fleece, I have to tell you, I am considering making the move toward silk. Anyway... I had a heavy, squirming baby on my hip, a tiny silk outfit in front of my face and a calculator with a number on it... 298... no, no... too much... what? you make offer... okay 120 I type into the calculator... you crazy... this silk... out comes the calculator.... higher.... okay, I say, 140, that's it.... can't do it, that crazy... okay I say and make for the door.... she follows me out.... okay 140. So 140 (divide that by 7) I have it and I am sure I probably paid to much, but how am I supposed to know? In any case, it was fun, Cate has a lovely outfit (although not one I poured over and agonized over... is this just the right shade? Do I like this design?) So, all in all, even if the woman made out, she saved me a lot of time, and honestly, this is probably the best way to shop with a squirmy two-year-old. 
Anyway, Steve did some haggling, we bought a couple of river rocks, and I took a deep breath and let Alex eat candied fruit on stick he has been eyeing since we got to Nanjing. I think delirium had set in. I don't even know what the fruit was... not an apple, maybe a plum, and certainly of the soft skinned variety the pediatrician had warned us against... I looked down at my happy, sticky son, who looked up and me and said, "Mom, you know you should never eat something if you don't know what it is." And then he took another bite. But more than 24 hours have passed, an luckily, all we have is the pleasant memory of eating something we had never seen before.
Back at the hotel, we ordered a pizza and noticed a strong smell of gasoline or something toxic. I closed the window, and the smell got worse. After about an hour, I went and knocked on the door of another family to see if they smelled it too. They did, and we decided we needed to get off the floor... so six families... just before bedtime found themselves in a busy Friday-night lobby waiting for a verdict. The hotel staff said they had painted on another floor and the smell had circulated through the central air. But it was hard to breathe and many of the babies are sick. So, to make a long story short, at about 7:00, our wonderful facilitator, Anna arrived and helped relocate us to another hotel. It was a crazy scene - everyone throwing everything into too full suitcases, piling into taxis, getting to a new hotel with overtired children. But it wasn't all bad. We had an awesome room and a king-sized bed with just the kind of crisp, cool sheets you need after a day or week like the one we have had... a crib for Cate that looked so cozy and plush I considered crawling in myself... and Steve tried chicken feet for breakfast. You just don't see that on every buffet.
Tonight, we are at the White Swan in Guangzhou, the last stop of our whirlwind experience in China. The hotel is actually located on a small island across from the city of Gaungzhou and it is just what we need. The streets are narrow - it looks like only one car can fit down them at a time. The trees are lush and green. Spanish moss drips from them. Palm trees line the streets. It is warm and wonderful and probably not at all authentic like Nanjing, but just what we need to quiet ourselves and begin to enjoy our new family. We walked across the street to dinner, Alex in explorer mode, drawing me into a seafood market... tomorrow I will take pictures... buckets of eels, turtles, big, fat sand worms, water beetles, crabs, basically anything that swims in the water. Alex and I loved seeing it.. and it has given me a new tool in addition to time out for Alex... the threat of having to eat a sand worm - live :)
Cate was great on her first flight. I buckled her into her seat, and she stayed there the whole time. The more comfortable she becomes, the more we see some of that typical baby behavior - constantly throwing something so you can pick it up... squirming every which way... Today she even pretended to cry while one of the other babies was crying. She plays little games, pretends to feed me and pretends to wash her hands and I wonder who taught her these things... what was it like for her? For now, we communicate, almost with sign language, she watches me and I watch her and there seems very little point to many words - the touch and the smiles and the eye contact mean more than language. She loves to move and Alex loves that she can run. This is the language that he understands. And she loves to play with Steve. He absolutely cannot pick her up, and that breaks his heart, but he knows it will come in time, and for now, she can see that he is the fun one, the one with the games and the treats and somehow, we are piecing it all together. Steve asked me tonight if I can believe yet that I have a daughter, and the answer is no. This all seems so surreal. The little girl. This place. This journey. I feel like I am just uncovering the mysteries of this girl and her country and it won't be until some mundane day back at home that it all sinks in. I will be standing in the kitchen. She will be running around and I will just burst into tears when I realize she is mine and everything we have waited for has come to pass.
Outside my window tonight, the Pearl River drifts by. A colorful tour boat is sailing, music playing. The city skyline is alive with color. My boys are out, exploring, because the little one cannot get enough of China at night. Cate sleeps in her crib. I am grateful to be here, we four, on this journey we will never forget.
Anyway, Steve did some haggling, we bought a couple of river rocks, and I took a deep breath and let Alex eat candied fruit on stick he has been eyeing since we got to Nanjing. I think delirium had set in. I don't even know what the fruit was... not an apple, maybe a plum, and certainly of the soft skinned variety the pediatrician had warned us against... I looked down at my happy, sticky son, who looked up and me and said, "Mom, you know you should never eat something if you don't know what it is." And then he took another bite. But more than 24 hours have passed, an luckily, all we have is the pleasant memory of eating something we had never seen before.
Back at the hotel, we ordered a pizza and noticed a strong smell of gasoline or something toxic. I closed the window, and the smell got worse. After about an hour, I went and knocked on the door of another family to see if they smelled it too. They did, and we decided we needed to get off the floor... so six families... just before bedtime found themselves in a busy Friday-night lobby waiting for a verdict. The hotel staff said they had painted on another floor and the smell had circulated through the central air. But it was hard to breathe and many of the babies are sick. So, to make a long story short, at about 7:00, our wonderful facilitator, Anna arrived and helped relocate us to another hotel. It was a crazy scene - everyone throwing everything into too full suitcases, piling into taxis, getting to a new hotel with overtired children. But it wasn't all bad. We had an awesome room and a king-sized bed with just the kind of crisp, cool sheets you need after a day or week like the one we have had... a crib for Cate that looked so cozy and plush I considered crawling in myself... and Steve tried chicken feet for breakfast. You just don't see that on every buffet.
Tonight, we are at the White Swan in Guangzhou, the last stop of our whirlwind experience in China. The hotel is actually located on a small island across from the city of Gaungzhou and it is just what we need. The streets are narrow - it looks like only one car can fit down them at a time. The trees are lush and green. Spanish moss drips from them. Palm trees line the streets. It is warm and wonderful and probably not at all authentic like Nanjing, but just what we need to quiet ourselves and begin to enjoy our new family. We walked across the street to dinner, Alex in explorer mode, drawing me into a seafood market... tomorrow I will take pictures... buckets of eels, turtles, big, fat sand worms, water beetles, crabs, basically anything that swims in the water. Alex and I loved seeing it.. and it has given me a new tool in addition to time out for Alex... the threat of having to eat a sand worm - live :)
Cate was great on her first flight. I buckled her into her seat, and she stayed there the whole time. The more comfortable she becomes, the more we see some of that typical baby behavior - constantly throwing something so you can pick it up... squirming every which way... Today she even pretended to cry while one of the other babies was crying. She plays little games, pretends to feed me and pretends to wash her hands and I wonder who taught her these things... what was it like for her? For now, we communicate, almost with sign language, she watches me and I watch her and there seems very little point to many words - the touch and the smiles and the eye contact mean more than language. She loves to move and Alex loves that she can run. This is the language that he understands. And she loves to play with Steve. He absolutely cannot pick her up, and that breaks his heart, but he knows it will come in time, and for now, she can see that he is the fun one, the one with the games and the treats and somehow, we are piecing it all together. Steve asked me tonight if I can believe yet that I have a daughter, and the answer is no. This all seems so surreal. The little girl. This place. This journey. I feel like I am just uncovering the mysteries of this girl and her country and it won't be until some mundane day back at home that it all sinks in. I will be standing in the kitchen. She will be running around and I will just burst into tears when I realize she is mine and everything we have waited for has come to pass.
Outside my window tonight, the Pearl River drifts by. A colorful tour boat is sailing, music playing. The city skyline is alive with color. My boys are out, exploring, because the little one cannot get enough of China at night. Cate sleeps in her crib. I am grateful to be here, we four, on this journey we will never forget.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Congratulations!
Congratulations to the next nine families who just got their TA's. You will soon be here, in this wonderful place on the most amazing journey. I know it sounds crazy, but I get tears in my eyes when I realize that half our trip is over and that soon we will leave this place behind, except for in our hearts, and start our lives all over again at home. It will be a bittersweet farewell - saying goodbye to the place where we first met our daughter - even leaving this small hotel, hot hotel room will create an instant nostalgia, just the way driving past the hospital where Alex was born can sometimes bring a swell to my eyes. Enjoy every crazy minute of your packing and preparing. After months and years of anticipation, it will go by so quickly!
The men are out on a mission to find diapers and drawing paper leaving "the ladies" as we are now called by Alex, alone in the room. Cate is resting quietly in her crib while I wait for Anna to bring by a few more documents. We have Cate's passport. She is ours and ready to travel. We leave tomorrow for Guangzhou where we take care of the American side of business.
Cate is very much the lady today, dressed in a flowery pink dress that came in the mail just before we left for China. She is just happy. A happy, funny, easy-going kid. We are off to a happy start today and there have been moments of golden laughter... she does something funny and all four of us are laughing together at and with our newest family member. She just loves to laugh and giggle, and so far, has not complained about anything. Although Steve cannot pick her up, she will play with him and even laugh at him, and we think she is trying hard to say "Alex." And again, as silly as it may sound, I feel a bit of sadness that we are teaching her new words, new sounds, that she will learn a new language, and sadly, leave most of what she has already known behind.
Well, I will try to post more later. It is morning still and our day of adventure has not yet begun. It is our last full day in Nanjing and I just want to absorb as much of it as I can. I need to be the eyes and ears for my daughter, who will not remember this place until we can bring her back someday.
The men are out on a mission to find diapers and drawing paper leaving "the ladies" as we are now called by Alex, alone in the room. Cate is resting quietly in her crib while I wait for Anna to bring by a few more documents. We have Cate's passport. She is ours and ready to travel. We leave tomorrow for Guangzhou where we take care of the American side of business.
Cate is very much the lady today, dressed in a flowery pink dress that came in the mail just before we left for China. She is just happy. A happy, funny, easy-going kid. We are off to a happy start today and there have been moments of golden laughter... she does something funny and all four of us are laughing together at and with our newest family member. She just loves to laugh and giggle, and so far, has not complained about anything. Although Steve cannot pick her up, she will play with him and even laugh at him, and we think she is trying hard to say "Alex." And again, as silly as it may sound, I feel a bit of sadness that we are teaching her new words, new sounds, that she will learn a new language, and sadly, leave most of what she has already known behind.
Well, I will try to post more later. It is morning still and our day of adventure has not yet begun. It is our last full day in Nanjing and I just want to absorb as much of it as I can. I need to be the eyes and ears for my daughter, who will not remember this place until we can bring her back someday.
Kid to the Left, Kid to the Right, Only Chopsticks in Sight
It was a challenging day. Alex bottomed out, or at least, I hope he bottomed out because if today wasn't the bottom, I don't want to see what it looks like. He is sad and angry and difficult. And to be honest, I think Steve and I bottomed out too. I won't go into the gory details, but blessedly, both children had a long nap at the same time. Steve went out to explore a little and re-center himself and I just sat in our silent room, waiting for our documents to arrive and looking at both of these beautiful kids... thankful, anxious and beating myself up more than just a little for all the things a mother can beat herself up for... Alex woke up first, and I was glad. Cate has become a tiny shadow, following me every place and I just needed a moment to be alone with Alex. I gave him a long talk about how much I loved him, how hard I knew this was for him, how I knew he was probably a little home sick, and again, how very, very much I loved him. He sat on my lap, listening quietly, his head against my chest and then said, "Okay. But I love Dad." Stated very sweetly, very sincerely, without a hint of anger,
but still, how is it that boys know how to go straight for the hearts of their mothers? In case I hadn't gotten the point, a few minutes later he looked up from whatever he was doing and said, "Mom, I really love you more than all the other moms. I love you 500. But I love Daddy 1300." So, the Golden Age of Daddy has been heralded in.Cate, meanwhile, discovered the joy of mobility today. I am not sure how much opportunity she had for roaming at the orphanage, and the first three days, I carried her every place. But she is a heavy girl and muscles long forgotten in my body are starting to complain. So, today, I put her down and held her hand, and she took off. She walked every place. Quickly, confidently on short little legs. She just kept walking, long past the p0int any other child would have complained. In fact, she didn't want to be carried. She just wanted to be free. She walked up the steps of the ancient wall of Nanjing. She walked the length of the wall. She walked through the jade exhibit at the Nanjing Museum. Through Folk Arts and Earthen Treasures. She did laps with Alex around the halls of the hotel. She laughed, and giggled and walked with sheer determination.
The nap was restorative to all, and we were able to pull it together and join our group for a celebratory dinner. This is where the next challenge began, fortunately not of temperament, but of dexterity. Cate was seated in a highchair next to me. Now, I am sure she must have fed herself at the orphanage, but she has not in our care. Alex, suddenly allowing me back into his inner circle sat on the other side, nestled as close to me as possible. On a normal day, I would have requested more space, but on this particular occasion, I decided to just let him be. Out came the food, ordered by our wonderful facilitator, Anna. Boiled peanuts in plum sauce, lotus root, duck filled dumplings, deep fried noodles, pork, a whole fish. The food kept coming and was delicious. There I sat, surrounded by new friends and their children, red lanterns and trees creating the backdrop all around us... a kind of Chinese wonderland... trying to navigate all of the tempting dishes that continually circled by on the giant lazy- Susan AND feed two children with chopsticks (keep in mind that one of them has bronchitis, so feeding her required switching sticks to keep the germs at bay). (The one item on my packing li
st I left behind was the kiddy chopsticks Alex uses at home. He is a pro with those. Left to the real thing, he is helpless.) But, we managed and had fun and no one cried or complained, and when we left the restaurant, darkness had settled and the city was alive with neon lights and lanterns and cherry blossoms and Alex was captivated, and said "I didn't know China was so beautiful at night." And it was and it is. And on the walk back to the hotel, he sat in wonder in his stroller and snapped picture after picture of the bright lights and the big city while Cate sang over and over a little song, whose words I do not know, but sound like "Doan Doan Mei Mei." Over and over and over on the magical and happy walk back to the hotel.Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Laughs by the Lake
Today was a free day, the first we have had since we arrived in China. I can't believe a week has already gone by since we left home. Our world has changed, and yet it seems to have passed by so quickly. But the free day was much needed by all of us.
Cate is transforming before our eyes. She is laughing, playing, smiling and warming up to her baba. She babbles nonstop when she is really in her element. Some words, I think, others just sounds. For the most part, she stands in one spot and plays with anything within her reach. Once she has something, she hates to give it up, and attempts to hold as many things as possible in her hands. Today, she carried a granola bar (still in its wrapper) for hours, until it was melted and crushed and popped open and I had to take it away. Taking something away shuts her down. She puts her head down and just withdrawls. No eye contact. No sounds. We let her go for a moment and then try to bring her back out - handing her another thing for her hands, tickling her, anything to get her to look at us again. Sometimes, she turns around quickly. Other times, she just looks wounded for quite a long time. It doesn't matter if it me or Steve or even Alex... and I would have guessed she would be used to other children taking things away. But, she still shuts down.
She is laughing a truly happy laugh. She giggles uncontrollably if she does something we think is funny. She has the look of mischief in her eyes and I have a feeling that when she settles in, she will be giving all of us a run for our money. But she is also so compliant and I hope I do not somehow undo this characteristic in her. When it time to change her diaper, I hold a diaper up and she lays down. Getting dressed, she stands patiently, lifting one arm, then the other, one leg, then the other to help with the process. When I feed her, she eats. She does not refuse the orange because there is too much "white stuff" on it or say she had something else in mind. She eats it. The only think she has wrinkled her nose at is yogurt, and not being a fan myself, I share the feeling. At naptime and bedtime, I put her in her crib and she goes to sleep. This, to me, is nothing short of a miracle, having had no previous experience with a child who willingly goes to sleep.
At this point (and not understanding her language, I could be wrong), I would say she seems developmentally like an 18 month old, but I can see her blossoming from our attention and I know she will catch up quickly. Already today, she tried to say "book" and when Steve handed her something and told her to say "xie xie" she said it back to him without hesitation.
Alex is doing pretty well. He was a delicate creature this morning, not at all sure he was happy to be a big brother after all. He looked pale and felt warm and I worried he was getting sick. He even fell asleep as we walked to the park. But twenty minutes later, he woke up like a new kid. Suddenly, he loved us and Cate and the whole world again, but I know it is difficult for him on so many levels. It has been a tremendous help that he has been able to make Cate laugh today on his own, and that I could walk into the bathroom and leave him "in charge" and she didn't cry, but played with him. She has been such an idea in his mind for so long, I always feared the reality would be a challenge for him, and it is, but I do think he is tryin
g hard. When we out in Nanjing today, it occurred to me that being in such a bustling city must be nearly as overwhelming to him as it is to Cate. She has probably not been outside of the orphanage much, and Alex has not been out of the comfort of his cozy village of 2,000 people all that often.
So, out of the village of 2,000... we were the only Westerners we saw today, except for one of the families in our group. We spent several hours out today feeling quite conspicuous with our attention grabbing light-haired son and our new Chinese daughter. Alex is still turning heads, although he has not drawn the crowds he did in Beijing. If not for Alex, I probably would not have noticed and it is almost refreshing to feel like you really are some place else... you know - you haven't travelled around the world just to look at the same faces you see at home. This does have drawbacks when you need to find a restroom and while you can communicate the need, you can't read any of the signs... does a rat with a bow on her head next to a rat with a cap on his head mean male and female bathrooms? Take a deep breath, open the door.... no.... it is an office... hmmm.... if it isn't that sign, which could it be? Try asking again. This time, get pointed to a sink... closer, but still no cigar...Better to eat quickly and get back to the hotel!
But back to our outing... we spent much of the day by the lake that is in the center (I am guessing) of Nanjing. It is a lovely park - a quiet oasis where you might get run down by a bike, but not a bus. Willow trees, just budding, line the shores of the lake. Kites fly high dotting the skyline. A wooden pathway meanders for a distance through the woods. It was just the space we needed to catch our breath and relax while Alex played. To his delight, a monstrous jumping castle also dots the landscape of this park. We paid about $1. 50. Alex bounced for nearly three hours. I am not kidding you - first with some children who were already there and then with a little girl in our group. Three hours we sat next to the bouncy castle, enjoying the cool breeze and conversation with this other family while our children happily jumped away. It was the best $1.50 I ever spent. Cate sat on my lap and played with Steve who tried to win over her affection with goldfish crackers and Alex bounced over on occasion to show her his feats of athleticism. After the bouncing, we rented a small electric boat and took it out on the lake for an hour. As always, seeing a place from the water lends a totally different perspective. On the lake, we were surrounded by Nanjing... but not just the Nanjing of many cars and many people. From the water we could see temples and pagodas rising on hilltops, an ancient looking wall, the willows and flowering trees... the beauty of this place. Cate really came to life as the light breeze hit her face and I wondered what could possibly be going on her her head... two days ago she awoke in the orphanage... today, surrounded by her family the wind in her hair (in theory at least... even though it was 70 degrees, I kept a hat on her head so I wouldn't offend any kind grandmas we might encounter)... anyway, what could she think? How could she be sitting, laughing and happy? The human spirit is resilient.
Finally, after an ice cream and dinner of dumplings and noodles at a fantastic place Alex has dubbed "Noodle Hut" we headed back to the hotel, happy for this family day. Our first outing as a family of four.
Cate is transforming before our eyes. She is laughing, playing, smiling and warming up to her baba. She babbles nonstop when she is really in her element. Some words, I think, others just sounds. For the most part, she stands in one spot and plays with anything within her reach. Once she has something, she hates to give it up, and attempts to hold as many things as possible in her hands. Today, she carried a granola bar (still in its wrapper) for hours, until it was melted and crushed and popped open and I had to take it away. Taking something away shuts her down. She puts her head down and just withdrawls. No eye contact. No sounds. We let her go for a moment and then try to bring her back out - handing her another thing for her hands, tickling her, anything to get her to look at us again. Sometimes, she turns around quickly. Other times, she just looks wounded for quite a long time. It doesn't matter if it me or Steve or even Alex... and I would have guessed she would be used to other children taking things away. But, she still shuts down.
She is laughing a truly happy laugh. She giggles uncontrollably if she does something we think is funny. She has the look of mischief in her eyes and I have a feeling that when she settles in, she will be giving all of us a run for our money. But she is also so compliant and I hope I do not somehow undo this characteristic in her. When it time to change her diaper, I hold a diaper up and she lays down. Getting dressed, she stands patiently, lifting one arm, then the other, one leg, then the other to help with the process. When I feed her, she eats. She does not refuse the orange because there is too much "white stuff" on it or say she had something else in mind. She eats it. The only think she has wrinkled her nose at is yogurt, and not being a fan myself, I share the feeling. At naptime and bedtime, I put her in her crib and she goes to sleep. This, to me, is nothing short of a miracle, having had no previous experience with a child who willingly goes to sleep.
At this point (and not understanding her language, I could be wrong), I would say she seems developmentally like an 18 month old, but I can see her blossoming from our attention and I know she will catch up quickly. Already today, she tried to say "book" and when Steve handed her something and told her to say "xie xie" she said it back to him without hesitation.
Alex is doing pretty well. He was a delicate creature this morning, not at all sure he was happy to be a big brother after all. He looked pale and felt warm and I worried he was getting sick. He even fell asleep as we walked to the park. But twenty minutes later, he woke up like a new kid. Suddenly, he loved us and Cate and the whole world again, but I know it is difficult for him on so many levels. It has been a tremendous help that he has been able to make Cate laugh today on his own, and that I could walk into the bathroom and leave him "in charge" and she didn't cry, but played with him. She has been such an idea in his mind for so long, I always feared the reality would be a challenge for him, and it is, but I do think he is tryin
g hard. When we out in Nanjing today, it occurred to me that being in such a bustling city must be nearly as overwhelming to him as it is to Cate. She has probably not been outside of the orphanage much, and Alex has not been out of the comfort of his cozy village of 2,000 people all that often.So, out of the village of 2,000... we were the only Westerners we saw today, except for one of the families in our group. We spent several hours out today feeling quite conspicuous with our attention grabbing light-haired son and our new Chinese daughter. Alex is still turning heads, although he has not drawn the crowds he did in Beijing. If not for Alex, I probably would not have noticed and it is almost refreshing to feel like you really are some place else... you know - you haven't travelled around the world just to look at the same faces you see at home. This does have drawbacks when you need to find a restroom and while you can communicate the need, you can't read any of the signs... does a rat with a bow on her head next to a rat with a cap on his head mean male and female bathrooms? Take a deep breath, open the door.... no.... it is an office... hmmm.... if it isn't that sign, which could it be? Try asking again. This time, get pointed to a sink... closer, but still no cigar...Better to eat quickly and get back to the hotel!
But back to our outing... we spent much of the day by the lake that is in the center (I am guessing) of Nanjing. It is a lovely park - a quiet oasis where you might get run down by a bike, but not a bus. Willow trees, just budding, line the shores of the lake. Kites fly high dotting the skyline. A wooden pathway meanders for a distance through the woods. It was just the space we needed to catch our breath and relax while Alex played. To his delight, a monstrous jumping castle also dots the landscape of this park. We paid about $1. 50. Alex bounced for nearly three hours. I am not kidding you - first with some children who were already there and then with a little girl in our group. Three hours we sat next to the bouncy castle, enjoying the cool breeze and conversation with this other family while our children happily jumped away. It was the best $1.50 I ever spent. Cate sat on my lap and played with Steve who tried to win over her affection with goldfish crackers and Alex bounced over on occasion to show her his feats of athleticism. After the bouncing, we rented a small electric boat and took it out on the lake for an hour. As always, seeing a place from the water lends a totally different perspective. On the lake, we were surrounded by Nanjing... but not just the Nanjing of many cars and many people. From the water we could see temples and pagodas rising on hilltops, an ancient looking wall, the willows and flowering trees... the beauty of this place. Cate really came to life as the light breeze hit her face and I wondered what could possibly be going on her her head... two days ago she awoke in the orphanage... today, surrounded by her family the wind in her hair (in theory at least... even though it was 70 degrees, I kept a hat on her head so I wouldn't offend any kind grandmas we might encounter)... anyway, what could she think? How could she be sitting, laughing and happy? The human spirit is resilient.
Finally, after an ice cream and dinner of dumplings and noodles at a fantastic place Alex has dubbed "Noodle Hut" we headed back to the hotel, happy for this family day. Our first outing as a family of four.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
She's Ours!
It's official. This morning, back at the civil affairs office, with a signature, a red thumb print and a promise to love her and never harm or abandon her, Cate became our daughter. After the months of paperwork and forms, this was nothing. Simple. To the point. And done in ten minutes.She has (I think) attached herself to me. She wants me to hold her, is still a little leery of Steve (I don't think she has seen many men before) and burst into tears when the director of the orphanage tried to hold her today for a photo, although yesterday she went right to him. She was quiet, and pretty shut down all morning, but when we walked back into the hotel room this afternoon, she started to smile and laugh. She knew she was staying and I was glad to see her at peace. As I type, she is resting in her crib, quietly playing and talking to herself. Steve and Alex are out exploring Nanjing. The day is gorgeous - at least 60 degrees and sunny, a lovely day to walk around.
Cate slept straight through the night and I had to wake her this morning (sorry, Omi!...it killed me too!) She ate a hard boiled egg, soaked in soy and a bowl of congee for breakfast. No pork flakes any place that I could see. I, myself enjoyed a bowl of pumpkin congee, Steve a pile of dumplings and Alex egging everyone on to take "no thank you bites" of every unusually food he could get his hands on.
After we completed the paperwork this morning, Cate and I headed with most of the group to Walmart. For those who know me well, you know this was an act of complete desperation, the same desperation that had me dodging buses and bikes yesterday to find a McDonalds so I could buy chicken nuggets, which I was sure Alex would eat. Anyway, back to Walmart. The store is several stories high and pretty typical of what you would find in the U.S. until you get to the grocery section. I needed to buy some bananas and water, but found myself in the prepared food, deli, meat section, unable to tear myself away. Cooking group - no need for a trip to Albany or NYC to the Asian markets - just a trip to Walmart. Wa
nt fresh seafood? Fresher than the Price Chopper? No problem. Pick your fish or crab while it swims. Take it home and cook it. Not much fresher than that. Need an eel, a jelly fish or fish eggs? No problem. You can get it fresh at Walmart. Short on pigs's ears or want to serve a roast chicken, feet attached? You guessed it. You can buy it at Walmart. I wandered over to the snack aisle hoping to find something a little healthy for Alex and Cate to munch on. I found it in the freeze dried squid and the individually packaged goose livers, wrapped like hard candies. In the imported food section - Ritz crackers, costing much more than all the other things I just mentioned. I wish this store was next to the hotel. I would be in there eating all day (maybe not the items I mentioned above, but I would be hanging out at the dumpling/ steamed bread counter).
Leaving Walmart, I caught a cab back to the hotel with another family in our group. A word about the traffic here in China. It is insane and yet, somehow, organized. No one uses signal lights. Cars and buses and bikes and mopeds weave in and out of every lane. If someone gets in your way, you just slam on the breaks or pull slightly into another lane. To the Western eye, it is madness, and yet it is nothing like NYC. There is no sense of road rage or hostility or tempers flaring in this chaos. It just seems to be what you do in a country with over a billion people and a zillion moving vehicles.But it is not for the weak of heart and it is not for strolling about unless you have taken several Valiums and a shot of tequila before you go. We just follow the locals. If they are still alive, we figure, chances are following them will keep us alive too.
I have to say, that in the travelling I have done, this is the first time in my life when I really FEEL that I am in a different part of the world. Much is Westernized. That is true. But it is different here. The people are different, much more forward and direct, but in a friendly way. They are more open to smiling and speaking to you. It is also the first place I have been where you can't assume that everyone else knows enough English to get by. Many people do speak at least a little (certainly more than we Americans speak Chinese), but most people do not and the language is too different to deductively reason your way into ordering something off a menu or attempting to make out what a sign might say. In Italy, in France, in Spanish speaking countries, it is not hard and you have always had enough wine to try a little of the language. Here it is almost impossible, but when you do try, people seem to apprecaite the effort. Steve is making a real attempt and he has gotten several compliments. Our tour guide told us it is very difficult for Westerners to learn Chinese because the way you use your tongue when you speak is totally different. I think the training of the ear is different too because I have a hard time telling what sounds to make, even after I have heard a simple word several times... is it ta tein? Ja tein? Sa jein? But we are trying and having a good time making the effort.
Steve an I both agree that we could make a reality show called "Extreme Parenting" out of this experience. How much more could we throw at Alex? Long plane ride, several plane rides in between, 13 hour time difference, meetings, small hotel room, no open space, no place to play outside, new sibling, no schedule, no familiar food, no TV station you can understand except the BBC... oh wait... not challeneging enough? New child you know next to nothing about who speaks Chinese.... this experience is a life and relationship builder, and while we have each had our moments, I think we are holding up well and in the quiet moments of each day, I appreciate what we are experiencing all the more for having done it as a family.
Now, off to watch my sleeping daughter.
nt fresh seafood? Fresher than the Price Chopper? No problem. Pick your fish or crab while it swims. Take it home and cook it. Not much fresher than that. Need an eel, a jelly fish or fish eggs? No problem. You can get it fresh at Walmart. Short on pigs's ears or want to serve a roast chicken, feet attached? You guessed it. You can buy it at Walmart. I wandered over to the snack aisle hoping to find something a little healthy for Alex and Cate to munch on. I found it in the freeze dried squid and the individually packaged goose livers, wrapped like hard candies. In the imported food section - Ritz crackers, costing much more than all the other things I just mentioned. I wish this store was next to the hotel. I would be in there eating all day (maybe not the items I mentioned above, but I would be hanging out at the dumpling/ steamed bread counter).Leaving Walmart, I caught a cab back to the hotel with another family in our group. A word about the traffic here in China. It is insane and yet, somehow, organized. No one uses signal lights. Cars and buses and bikes and mopeds weave in and out of every lane. If someone gets in your way, you just slam on the breaks or pull slightly into another lane. To the Western eye, it is madness, and yet it is nothing like NYC. There is no sense of road rage or hostility or tempers flaring in this chaos. It just seems to be what you do in a country with over a billion people and a zillion moving vehicles.But it is not for the weak of heart and it is not for strolling about unless you have taken several Valiums and a shot of tequila before you go. We just follow the locals. If they are still alive, we figure, chances are following them will keep us alive too.
I have to say, that in the travelling I have done, this is the first time in my life when I really FEEL that I am in a different part of the world. Much is Westernized. That is true. But it is different here. The people are different, much more forward and direct, but in a friendly way. They are more open to smiling and speaking to you. It is also the first place I have been where you can't assume that everyone else knows enough English to get by. Many people do speak at least a little (certainly more than we Americans speak Chinese), but most people do not and the language is too different to deductively reason your way into ordering something off a menu or attempting to make out what a sign might say. In Italy, in France, in Spanish speaking countries, it is not hard and you have always had enough wine to try a little of the language. Here it is almost impossible, but when you do try, people seem to apprecaite the effort. Steve is making a real attempt and he has gotten several compliments. Our tour guide told us it is very difficult for Westerners to learn Chinese because the way you use your tongue when you speak is totally different. I think the training of the ear is different too because I have a hard time telling what sounds to make, even after I have heard a simple word several times... is it ta tein? Ja tein? Sa jein? But we are trying and having a good time making the effort.
Steve an I both agree that we could make a reality show called "Extreme Parenting" out of this experience. How much more could we throw at Alex? Long plane ride, several plane rides in between, 13 hour time difference, meetings, small hotel room, no open space, no place to play outside, new sibling, no schedule, no familiar food, no TV station you can understand except the BBC... oh wait... not challeneging enough? New child you know next to nothing about who speaks Chinese.... this experience is a life and relationship builder, and while we have each had our moments, I think we are holding up well and in the quiet moments of each day, I appreciate what we are experiencing all the more for having done it as a family.
Now, off to watch my sleeping daughter.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Day 1 with Cate
9:00 p.m. Everyone is asleep. Alex is curled up at the end of the bed at Steve’s feet. Cate is in her crib. She never cried again today until the doctor came and I left the room to look for some medication. She has bronchitis and will be on antibiotics for the rest of this trip.I think she spent the day in a state of shock. She was very quiet, although she did point once to my picture and say “mama.” She has not let that photo album out of her hand. She even carried it tightly while we walked around Nanjing looking for a spot for lunch and attempting to burn some of Alex’s pent up energy. She ate a banana and an orange, drank a lot of water, and made very little sound. Late in the afternoon, after signing some more paperwork, she and Alex and I sat on the bed together. He is trying hard to be a big brother and gave her the two toys he has with him here to play with for the day. She immediately clasped those, adding to the collect
ion of things she wouldn’t let go. We ordered soup and noodles for dinner. She ate and ate and it was a relief to see Alex eating too. He has survived on bites of dumplings, cooked celery and granola bars since we arrived. And it has been difficult to get a meal into him, even breakfast. We sat on the bed, waiting for dinner, and she seemed to relax a little, even smiling and starting to engage us in a little play. I gave her a bottle and put her in her crib and she went immediately to sleep. She sleeps quietly and peacefully now, and I wonder how she will react when she awakes and finds herself again in this strange place with these strange people.She is beautiful. Huge rosy cheeks. Her hair growing in.. A rosebud of a mouth and calf muscles bigger than my own – just the right size for hiking up and down the hill in our backyard. When we came back from the civil affairs office, Steve took off for the grocery store with our facilitator and Alex and I stayed back in the room with Cate. She just stood by the edge of the bed, very nervous and unsure. As the room heated up (it is actually quite warm here in Nanjing – probably in the 60’s), I began to peel of her layers. First, a heavy winter coat. Then a sweater. Under that, a wool sweater and under that a thick, fleece lined under shirt. On the bottom, the same fleece lined pants, thick socks and a pair of fleece lined corduroys, That girl was bundled and I will bundle her again when we go back to the civil affairs bureau tomorrow so that I don’t get in trouble with her caregiver.
Her caregiver looked like a lovely woman. Her eyes looked so kind and she had obviously tried to prepare Cate for this day. I did not get a chance to talk to her or thank her in all the emotional chaos of today, but we may see her again tomorrow to finalize the adoption in the eyes of the Chinese government.
Our other Homeland families have five other beautiful babies – two other girls and three boys.
She’s Here!
We met Cate at 9:45 this morning at the Civil Affairs office in Nanjing. We arrived, by bus, at a nondescript building, but my heart skipped a beat when I read the sign that said the building is used for international adoptions and marriages. We walked into a room. There sat the nannies, babies in their laps. Steve spotted Cate right away, dressed in layers and layers of clothes and bundled in a blue winter coat. Her nanny recognized us too and pulled out the little photo album, pointing and saying "mama" and "baba." Cate smiled when she saw the book. But she did not smile when her caregiver placed her in my arms. She cried. And cried a heartbreaking cry that was filling the room all around us as the babies were placed in the arms of their new parents. In the midst of all this, our facilitator was coming around with paperwork for us to review and sign.
We all tried to help her, but nothing worked. She kept her eye on her caregiver and finally I walked back over to her because I could not take the heart wrenching sobs and just wanted her to find a moment of comfort. The caregiver reached into her bag and handed her a bag of "hamburger chips." She rejected them, but a few moments later began to calm down and eat them slowly. There was such chaos and sadness and joy in that room.
I will write more later. I must get back to her now. She is tired and starting to look a little teary again after a day of silence and just checking us out. Needless to say, we are overjoyed that she is here with us and anxious, already to be home with friends and family and back into a routine.
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