Adoption Journal (6)

By Ridley Pearson

When you arrived in our arms you were bright-eyed and healthy, but little else. You could not sit up, could not lift your head, and had little hand-eye coordination. Yesterday, in my lap, while I was having a conversation with the Brit in the lobby, you sat forward from a leaning back position. All at once, and without warning. By days end, you had "sat up" (albeit from a short angle) over four times. Then, last night, only your second night in our care, you lifted your head for the first time and moved it to the other side. You astound us with how quickly you accomplish these things! How can it have been just two days? Is it possible? Twice, while in the baby carrier, you have reached out and grabbed hold of the teething ring without us noticing. But when we looked down, there you were holding the ring and grinning at us - always smiling, and laughing - big and heartfelt. We feel the joy in you, busting out like sunshine - your sweet little noises, your sparkling eyes, the way you love to touch your toes to the opposite foot and just watch them dance there. In the warmth of love (and lots of rest and plenty of food) you seem to be jumping ahead, one milestone after another, only hours apart. You have spent the day studying your hands and the entwined fingers and giggling at yourself - you are so PLEASED with everything. And it rubs off. Marcelle and I grin, teary-eyed at each other, kiss your head, coo into your ear, and watch you beam back a smile that could power a city it is so bright. To witness this effect of nurturing is an education all in itself, for the absolute power of that love reflected in you and coming back to us is so vividly clear when viewed in such a narrow time capsule. We had heard that you would excel and quickly catch up to other children - but we never expected "instant" gains like this. You amaze us as every turn. We are indebted to you for the lessons you are giving us. If this is the power of love, then why do we all reserve it for so few?

With a palatable muzak playing over the hotel room's "radio" (canned music), and with you snuggled into your crib, I sit down to write about another day in China. Your progress continues. You now hold your head up independently, and not just for a second or two - you throw your head back and forth in bed, rubbing your nose, secretly proud of this newfound ability. Showing off. Your arms are gaining strength; you can push yourself left and right in your crib, and do so freely now. Unthinkable just three days ago. You "stand" in our laps - able to support your weight - and you smile a smile as long as the Golden Gate bridge.

You "chat"  - delightful baby sounds that you wouldn't share the other day. And today, for the first time, you awakened in the morning without the desperate, fingers-on-blackboard screaming you've been doing (and still do after your naps).

One wrinkle: yesterday and today, late afternoon, you have given yourself to cry and complain (very loudly) for about 90 minutes. You drink your bottle, we change your diapers, we hold you, rock you, dance with you - and still you scream. We're hoping tomorrow might bring a change - it's a difficult time of day for us, and we seem to sag a little just before dinner following this tirade.

China parades past as a stream of color and mass of humanity. Bicycles blur endlessly - more bicycles here than in the whole world combined - taxis churn. Tour buses cough down the streets. This place cooks - it rocks - morning to night. Humankind is too ever-present to allow it even a moment's rest.

We went out to dinner tonight for the first time: another hotel across town. The town is BUSIER at night than in the day. We had NO IDEA of this, being that we've been hitting the hay about nine every night, to keep up with the many feedings in the wee hours. But there is Kunming - bumper to bumper. Sidewalks teeming. SO MANY PEOPLE.

And here, we are center of attraction, even at the International Expo that owns this town right now. We went yesterday, took it in. And we became the central exhibit. Chinese by the dozen were stopping us to have their pictures taken with the tall, blond Americans and the Chinese baby. Again today at the minority village - a somewhat cheesy attempt to duplicate what and where the hill tribes live - we, all of us in the adoption group, became the targets of the Kodaks. We will be on kitchen walls from Beijing to Guilin. The Pearsons: a freak show.

(part 6 of 10, to be continued...)