Gonna Getcha Day

In adoption circles, many families refer to the day they meet their children as "Gotcha Day." Others object, saying "Gotcha!" is something you say when you squish a particularly annoying bug. Many in that camp prefer "Family Day" or even "Metcha Day."

What it's called will be the last thing on my mind the morning of Sept. 17, when we're to meet our new Who at the Civil Affairs Bureau in Nanchang.

She will have traveled from the only home she's known, to meet a stranger who looks funny, sounds funny, smells funny. She and I, we won't know what to make of each other. I'm trying to expect the worst -- screaming, crying, withdrawal, rejection -- so I can view anything less than that as a blessing. But I know it won't be easy, for her or for me.

Our first Who was stoic and curious when we met her -- which explains why our tender moment of union as a family quickly dissolved into video of the ceiling when she grabbed the video camera. We didn't even try to recover. She rode quietly on the bus as the babies around us cried, content to look out the window at the world passing by. We marveled at her calm demeanor.

Only later, when we watched the video back home, did we notice how haunted her eyes were.

This was a child in shock.

Only later, when we thought about it, did we realize that when she did finally cry, she was crying "Ayi! Ayi!"

She was crying for the only caregiver she'd ever known.

I hope I'm more attuned to Who III's initial reaction. I hope I remember the words to the children's songs I know, instead of singing verses from the Gilligan's Island theme song, as I did for Who I. (She got a rousing rendition of the Beverly Hillbillies song, too.) I hope she lets me help her, that she quickly finds comfort in a soothing voice, a warm embrace, in knowing that if she is wet, if she is hungry, if she is crying, her mother will be there for her.

Sleep well, my sweet. May your tummy be full and your dreams be happy ones.

$$$$$$$

We have travel approval! We have plane tickets! We have no more money!

Ahhh, the joys of the final weeks to adoption, as the gentle sucking sound that has been your finances becomes a raging vortex determined to drain every last penny you have. Need to eat when you come home? Live off your fat for a while. Want to stay home with your precious bundle at least until your clock resets and the days are days and nights are nights? Forget about it. Strap that little angel on you and get back to the sweat shop.

And you know what? You don't give a damn about money. Because this journey is like one of those credit card commercials: It's priceless.

We will be one of the last groups of July referrals to travel, I think. Not sure why it all worked out that way, and it's frustrating to know some folks will be home long before we ever get on a plane in September. But I just have to keep my eye on the final result: Who III at home where she belongs.

The mouths of babes

My two girls had a rough week. Mama was out of town on a business trip, and their routine was disrupted in a big way. I wasn't there to take them to school in the morning or to sing the dreaded braindead-purple-dinosaur song at bedtime. No big-big hugs or big-big kisses to be had. Singing it over the phone just didn't cut it
-- but thankfully none of my colleagues witnessed my performances!

It sucked for me at least as much as it sucked for them. Who II told me on the phone, "I cried for you, mama." Ditto, baby. Ditto.

Coming home has been hectic but sweet. DH is grateful to have another set of hands. The Whos are putting me through my paces while being especially affectionate. Even the cat seems happy I'm back.

Last night, Who I was talking about baby sister still waiting for us in China, and about my trip, when suddenly she put her head on her daddy's shoulder and announced, "You're my FAMily." I nearly bawled.

Children bring a unique perspective to our lives. They let us peer through the looking glass with them, delighting in things we might otherwise dismiss as ordinary. They enchant us with their imagination, their laughter, their innate goodness. They hold up a mirror so we see our true selves -- a picture that might not be as flattering as we'd like. And sometimes, they bring us to our knees with the simplest of statements.

We may look different. We may have different backgrounds, different life experiences, different hopes and dreams. But we are family. It doesn't get any better than that.

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.