Deja Vu

It appears we're playing the waiting game yet again. Tick, tick, tick ... is that a TA I hear? Nope, just another "no news today" post from my agency. I can't believe it's been 3.5 weeks since we first heard about Who III and there's still no news.

Admittedly, we were spoiled by our first adoption -- TAs arrived 2.5 weeks after referrals came in. Given that nothing on this adoption train is moving quickly anymore, it stands to reason that we're going to have to wait longer to see our precious bundle.

But in the interest of perspective, I met a woman today who is adopting her first and only child from China. She's 45, DH is 55. She's 14 months into the wait and her agency tells her to expect to have at least that much more to go.

When you think about it that way, I guess a few more weeks is nothing.

Oh, who am I kidding? I WANT MY BABY!!!

Pound for pound

The first three weeks after referral are some of the hardest you'll endure. Now you know your child. You've seen her face. You can feel her in your arms. You worry -- is she getting enough to eat? Is she healthy? What will she need when we finally meet? You're waiting for TA. You don't know when you'll travel. You're trying to plan, yet find yourself running around in circles, waiting for China to say, "OK, come get her."

When we received our referral for Who III, the first thing I seized on was how small she was. She had gained only 2 pounds from birth to 4 months, according to the informaton. She was almost four pounds lighter than the other two babies from the same SWI. So I've worried more about this one, hoping she's OK.

Today we got updates, and they are wonderful! Pictures and measurements taken this week show she's still tiny but has grown at a much faster rate. She's finally knocking on the door of the Chinese growth chart (though still not in the 3rd percentile). Better yet, she looks GREAT!

More good news: Some agencies already are receiving TAs! I think ours won't come just yet, as our acceptances didn't go over as quickly. But they're coming, and I can feel that insane mix of panic/excitement begin to take root. Euphoria, here I come!

Random musings

It's hard to believe it's been almost two weeks since we got our referral. It seems it's been eons, yet just yesterday. Right now we're in that strange state of suspended animation. We're running around like crazy, trying to get the "China shopping list" knocked out, the baby's room ready, finish all those home-improvement projects that have been sitting around for months. Rip out dining room carpet and install hardwoods? No problem. Paint kitchen? Check. Replant entire yard killed by Midwestern drought? I don't THINK so.

Naturally, we're anxious for news of travel approvals. When will we leave? How much time do I have to train my replacement at work? How much longer will I have to feign concentration? And when will I figure out how to use the new laptop and Web cam so I can see my big girls while I'm in China, and they can see their baby sister?

At any given moment, it feels like there's too much time, and not enough.

When I'm not charting out the days between now and blastoff, as my girls call it, I'm thinking how different this trip will be from our first. There are five families in our group, instead of nine the first time. Six babies -- one set of twins -- from three orphanages. Last time, all nine came from the same SWI. Three of us will be traveling without our spouses due to obligations on the home front. Most of us already have children; on our first trip, most of us were rookies.

So, will we bond as a group? Will we be as amazed at our babies' bodily functions? Somehow, I think baby poop just won't have the same mystique it had when I was a first-time mom. Oh, I'll be happy that everything works. But if grandma Mimi wants to change her -- well, she can do the honors!

I've been fortunate to already get to know one of our travelmates via e-mail. She and her husband were trapped in the same limbo we were, coming off hold and unsure whether we'd ever see our daughters' faces. I was so overjoyed when they received their referral too; it wouldn't have been right for us to get the call and them not to.

The bonds you form in China are part of this amazing red thread. Without those bonds, we would never have our second daughter, or some dear friends who I'd trust my girls' lives with. I'm sure we'll come away from this trip with many of the same feelings.

So now, it's off to check my to-do list, hoping it didn't grow while I was typing this.

Comparisons

My three girls all had different looks in their eyes in their referral pix. The Original Who had a twinkle in her eye, a sign of the mischief that is her very nature. Who II seemed wide-eyed and observant, waiting to see what life had to offer. Who III has a look in her eyes that I've decided is much older than her age warrants. She looks like an old soul, one who already knows too much about life's sorrows and not enough of its joys. The more I study her picture, the stronger the connection I feel. I have a fierce Mama Bear need to get on a plane now, to get her out of those clothes, to put a sparkle in her eyes. To hear her laugh in the way only babies can. To see her in her sisters' arms, the three united, small, sturdy testaments to the power of love and perseverance. Survivors, each of them. Joys beyond belief.

These will be long weeks, waiting, wondering.

She's a peanut!!!

We have photos and more information! Miss Bo Qi is an absolute peanut -- less than 9 pounds at her 4-month checkup. Likes music, deep sleeper, active and obstinate (oh no, she's like her daddy!). Doesn't she look MAD at all those Michelin man layers?

Mama has to go shopping for teeny tiny clothes now.

Update: Look closely at her clothes. The word "Happy" is embroidered on her chest. Um, maybe someone should have told her to smile!

Beware, FedEx Man!

To the poor guy who has the honor of bringing me my baby's picture tomorrow:

I apologize in advance for stepping on your feet. For invading your personal space as I jump up and down and hug you. For demanding that you give me your name for her lifebook. For taking your picture if you're having a bad hair day. For all of it.

But you have my baby! Consider yourself the stork in a purple and black shirt.

I had a dream a year ago that one of our office's regular FedEx deliveryman brought me our referral. Won't it be cool if it's the same guy?

T minus 13 hours until we see her face. Delivery is promised by 10:30 a.m. HURRY!

And thanks to all for your wonderful comments on my other posts. I have always believed adoption is the biggest leap of faith I'll ever take. And I believe we've traveled the path we were meant to. I didn't always have directions, but I know the journey is taking us to the place we're supposed to be.

Officially outnumbered!!!

We got THE CALL!!!!

After a journey of more than two years, here's what we know:

She's Bo Qi. She was born Nov. 15, 2006. And she's waiting for us in the Poyang SWI in Jiangxi Province.

We have to wait until Tuesday for full translation of her name, medicals and a photo. But we're told she has chunky cheeks, full lips and no hair in her photos. I think she's beautiful already!

We can't find anything about her SWI on the Web; I'm wondering if it's one that's newly opened to international adoption?

The Two Whos just became the Three Whos. WOW, WOW, WOW!

Red Threads

I spent a lot of years certain I never wanted kids. I was a lousy babysitter -- the one kids begged their parents not to have back (something about me actually MAKING them go to bed at their designated time, I think). I spent two summers as a camp counselor for underprivileged children. Came home every day, vowing I was going to have a dog, not a baby. (For the record, I still have the dog, and at 12 she's more work than a baby ever could be!) I watched my friends have their babies in their 20s and marveled at how they did it. Me, I was too busy making man mistakes to even think about babies.

Then I met a guy who wasn't Mr. Right, but who had three kids including a little pixie I'll call Curls. She was 3 when I met her, and for three years she was the light of my life. I'll never forget the first time she threw her arms around me and said, "I love you." I wanted to be a mom from that moment on.

It took almost 10 years to make it happen, then one day in 2004 I suddenly found myself staring at a picture of the daughter I'd felt in my arms, in my heart, long before I ever saw her face. At last, I was a mother. And it is hands-down the toughest, most incredible job I will ever have.

The road to Who I was filled with magic. We mailed the application to our adoption agency on my mother's birthday. We traveled with a high school friend (who'd actually dated the same boy at one point, and whose mom had been a college suitemate of my mom) and her husband and their daughter. One of our other travelmates was the niece of my high school journalism adviser. And most magical of all: We met our daughter on my mother's birthday, giving her the gift of her first grandchild. And The Who became a U.S. citizen on my brother's birthday. It doesn't get much cooler than that.

Fast forward two years. It's May of 2006 and we're finally starting to see the end of our ever-lengthening adoption journey when life throws us a curveball. One of our travelmates from that first adoption, who had become a dear friend, had been fighting cancer since shortly after we returned home in '04. She was losing her fight, and her guardianship plan had fallen through. As a single mother with aging parents, she needed a family for her daughter -- who was just 3 days older than our daughter and who had spent her first nine months of life with The Who. Our friend reached out to our travel group, asking if any of us had an interest in her situation. She never came out and asked, "Will any of you become L's family?" But we all knew that's what she was asking.

And DH and I knew that's what we wanted to do. So I called our friend, starting a series of phone conversations and e-mails.

On June 6, 2006, just one day shy of the two-year anniversary of our referral calls, our friend called me at work. "I want you to be L's parents," she said. I had to leave my desk so I could sob, the joy and the sorrow simply too much to process.

We visited our friend on Father's Day weekend, so the girls could become reacquainted and we could all make sure this was the right move. Our friend was obviously in terrible pain, yet she showed a courage that amazes me to this day. She gutted out that visit, including a 40-minute drive to meet with the social worker to get the ball rolling. As we drove away for the airport, I told DH, "I don't think we'll see her again," and again started to cry.

Two weeks later, I was back in New England -- this time, an instant mother to a little girl not yet 3 who had lost the second mother of her young life and just couldn't understand what had happened. On the second day I was with her, her friends at daycare pointed to me and asked who I was. She'd only been told the night before that her mother had died; no one had told her what my role would be. Yet this wise little girl said, "That's my new mommy." And she bawled the rest of the day.

It's been nearly a year since L & G, who I always believed were sisters of the heart, became true sisters. I wouldn't wish the circumstances on anyone. We've dealt with rages, grief, jealousy. I've locked myself in the bathroom to sob as though my heart is breaking, for my girls and for myself, wondering if I have the strength to help this little one. And I've picked myself up, wiped my eyes and gone back at it.

Someone who heard our story called me a WarriorMama, saying I dove into the battle and just did what had to be done. I think it fits. And a year after starting this journey, I can proudly say I am the mama to TWO beautiful girls. They are mine, heart and soul. They delight me, exasperate me and melt my heart on a daily basis. I have more gray hair and more pounds now than I did before I embarked on this journey. And I wouldn't change a thing.

We've been waiting on our referral for Baby Sister, aka Who III, for what seems an eternity. She's had to wait, as did we, because L needed us first. I will never regret putting this paperwork on hold to bring L into our lives. I believe with all my heart that she and G were meant to be sisters.

Before we left from visiting our friend that last time, I told her I didn't know why any of this -- her illness, her guardianship plan -- had happened, but that I knew one thing: She was meant to bring L home. "I believe that too," she said.

But I was meant to be her forever mama.

Somewhere in China, another little girl needs her mama tonight. Maybe it's me.

Sleep tight, my little ones. Soon there will be three.

Strong women

Each day, I look at my daughters and am amazed at what survivors they are. They survived their early beginnings in China, where food and love were rationed -- not out of cruelty, but out of necessity. They survived leaving the only world they knew to come to a new land, where the people didn't look like anyone they'd ever seen, where the language was foreign and the sights, sounds and smells were all new. They've survived having us as their doting but often bumbling parents. And they are thriving. Happy and healthy.

They fit right in to our family of strong women.

Recently, we lost one of those women -- my grandmother, who, at 86, finally decided it was time to move off this earth.

Her body had long grown weary, and in recent years, her mind was often more focused in the past than in the present. Yet she, too, was a survivor, a woman who led by example and daily showed the power of love. She survived the Depression, worked at a time many women didn't. She came home tired after a long day, yet still found time for a game of cards with her grandchildren. She made our favorite foods, tailoring birthday treats to each grandchild's preferences. She hopped on a plane for the first time in her life in her 60s to fly to New England to surprise her granddaughter. Her southern Indiana accent and the Rhode Islanders' own special language mixed seemlessly. No one quite understood each other, yet a good time was had by all.

She survived widowhood, a heart attack and a stroke, still somehow becoming the reigning queen of her nursing home. She dished out marital advice, telling me once, "You don't need to roll down any more hills" -- her version of walking down the aisle. And she proudly claimed her family each time one of us came to visit, parading us around to anyone who'd listen and announcing, "This is one of mine!"

I never saw my grandmother lose her patience, though I'm sure she did. She had a knack for resolving sibling disputes that made each of us feel like a winner. I can't count the number of meals she ate at the "kids' table" instead of sitting in the dining room with the adults. I think she enjoyed it. We sure did.

My daughters both got to meet my Nanny. One of my favorite memories is of my first daughter toddling down the hallway with my grandma. Nanny was in her wheelchair, and Who I was holding her hand. It was an amazing moment.

My girls joined me in bidding her farewell last week, as I explained that her body was just a shell and what made her special had already been spirited off to heaven. We just had to help her body catch up. And yes, sometimes when you die, you get a parade. I hope she enjoyed hers.

To Nanny/Annie/Granny, Godspeed. You'll always be one of ours.


I think she'd have liked that.