A Pearl from Yunan - Adoption Journal (3)

By Ridley Pearson

Today was an emotional ride into all of our futures. We started out quite early, leaving the hotel and crossing a wet road, heading over to a government complex where a pair of armed guards would not allow us inside, their gloved hands gesturing us back. We moved across to a parking area where we were made to wait. We were met a few minutes later by an escort and allowed to enter the complex. We walked a short distance to a very old, very dilapidated building and we climbed four flights in the dark, the only light through windows which no longer held any glass. The hallways too were dark and gloomy, though the occasional office was lit brightly and had adequate furniture inside. We walked down this extremely dark passage and were shown into quite a nice room with a long oval table and many chairs. We sat down at this table, China's red flag in metal on the wall, the windows a filthy gray. Emotions ran high as we were made to fill out forms and complete statements about how we intended to care for you as a member of our family. And then, in the middle of all that, the caretakers paraded in bearing the babies in their arms. Adorable, bright-eyed little children as filled with expectation as the adults who had come to take them across the ocean. Tears sobbed down onto this great oval table as the forms dragged out, all of us eager to leap from our seats and go claim our daughters. Cameras flashed. More tears. Couples hugged and squealed as we all identified our children from the photos we had cherished all these long months. No longer Kodachrome. Living. Breathing. More tears.

Our organizer, a wonderful woman name Lin, walked around the table collecting our completed applications and forms. One by one, couples rose from the table to approach and hug and chortle over finally feeling the warm of the child in their arms. Your mother and I were last.

And now, many hours later, you are in fresh clothes. You have taken a bath and are smelling so baby-wonderful. You are sleeping alongside our bed, light breaths. You've had a whole bottle of milk, drinking wonderfully hungry, but by no means famished. You don't cry. You've smiled at us repeatedly. We feel exhausted but reunited at last-not united, but reunited. We feel you a part of us, already. So complete. So whole. Sleep dear child, sleep. We have a long journey yet ahead of us....

Today is our first full day with this new marvel in our lives. You grow in this atmosphere of abundant love the way a plant will lean toward the room's only window. We gasp at the radiant beauty of this little child, this tremulous wonder who has accepted us so immediately-and we you, of course! You woke twice in the night, having gone to bed at eight thirty; first, at eleven thirty-exactly three hours to the minute after we put you down; after a twenty minute feed you went down just before midnight, and rose at EXACTLY a few minutes before three; needless to say we think you were kept on a three hour feeding schedule at the orphanage. We added some rice cereal to your formula and you slept until eight-fifteen, about four hours, after that long middle of the night feeding where you wanted to play for a while.

You are just a joy, such a "perfect" baby; no crying, except when hungry, no fuss. Just like your older sister was! We are SO lucky! We have already won many, many smiles from you-our hearts do little butterfly beats at seeing this-and even a few heartfelt laughs when we tickle you or nibble on your middle. We each learn more about the other with every passing minute.

(part 3 of 10, to be continued...)