An Ordinary Day

May 30, 2012

By Annemarie

It’s hard to believe we’ve had our boy almost two full days already. In some ways it feels like only hours ago, but I suppose in some ways it also feels like he’s been ours forever.

I’m going to try and email Kaitlin a video Aaron took this morning of me tickling Matthew. His giggle, when it comes, is infectious and it lights up his entire face (and mine, and Aaron’s, too). It seems like we wear him out quickly. It’s just 10 a.m. here, Matthew woke up at 7, and he’s already asleep for a quick morning catnap on the bed. He’s quite the thumb-sucker when he’s sleeping. Sometimes when he stirs a little bit, then he sucks a little to soothe himself and fall back to sleep.

I am very aware of all the ways living in an orphanage for 18 months has impacted our son. Last night, as I fed him a bottle, I started to cry thinking about all the months he’s been without a mama or a daddy. He was tucked into my arm, near my breast, as he sucked his bottle down, and I had flashbacks to nursing both Sam and Maya in that position. I was tickling Matthew’s feet, same as I would do for my first two babies, and it dawned on me that this is the first time my sweet boy has had a mama to hold him as he eats and to tickle his feet. For 18 months of his life, he’s been quite an autonomous little person, during a time of life when every single human being should have a parent to care for them.

Yesterday, as I wrote in my prior blog post, we went back to the Civil Affairs office for more paperwork, and since I was no longer nervous about meeting my son (because he was in my arms when we returned there), I turned my attention to soaking in all that was around me. I was so struck by all the children in the room who had, only a few days prior, been without parents, but who now had consistent, loving parents to care for them—what a difference that makes.

But I was also aware of all the children in the world who have NO parents—and some who will never have parents. The caregiver from Matthew’s orphanage told us there are 30 children who live in the XuWen County Social Welfare Institute, and about 20 of them are available for adoption. That means at least 10 children there have significant enough special needs that they cannot be adopted. They will live in that orphanage until they are of adult age, and then they will continue to be cared for by the Chinese government, probably in institutions. I realize that I take for granted how lucky I am to have parents and to have grown up in a loving home. I also take for granted the kinds of privileges my two biological children enjoy, always knowing parents and a stable environment. But when I start to think about al the children in the world who have no families, I feel an abyss open up in my heart, and I almost can’t stomach that kind of loss and unfairness. It makes me SO grateful for this child sleeping on the bed beside me—grateful that we felt called to this path of adoption, that this sweet little person ended up matched with our family.

And even though there is nothing we can do about the months he wasn’t with us, we can love him a little extra these days, hug him more, kiss him, snuggle him, and help him know what it means to have a family, to have a place where he will always belong.

It’s miraculous to me, really.

Life is simple here in China. The daily tasks of parenting come natural to both Aaron and me, but getting to know this new person and trying to meet his needs well takes energy and focus. He is quickly over-stimulated, and while we want him to feel secure and cared for, we also want to help him learn about the world at his own pace.

It seems like his favorite thing to do is ride on my front in the Ergo carrier. He holds me tightly with his arms, but his head looks all around, taking in the many wondrous sights of Shamian Island—the children, the grandparents doing Tai Chi, the many games of Mahjong and chess that we see being played. I’m sure many of the sounds and smells seem strange to him too, but he’s a little adventurer—taking it all in, watching with his big, brown eyes.

Today at 2:30, we go to the Guangzhou Police Station to apply for Matthew’s Chinese passport—one more step towards coming home with our boy. Saturday morning is his physical examination. Sunday we move to the Garden Hotel, to be closer to other WACAP (our agency) families who are here in Guangzhou. Tuesday is our appointment at the U.S. Consulate. Wednesday we get his passport and travel visa. And next Thursday, a day and a week from today, we get to go home—with our son!

 Oh, and a little note for all the Chinese Adoptive Parents reading my blog:

The White Swan is totally closed for renovation now—we had heard that we could at least go inside and take a nostalgic photo on the “red couch,” but they have it all blocked off and the lobby has turned to piles of concrete dust. We also can’t walk around the backside and see the fountain and the gardens—that’s all blocked off too. We did have dinner at Lucy’s last night (It’s still there) and I had a coffee from Starbucks yesterday too, walking amidst all the wedding photos being taken in the center garden/park of the island. I took some laundry to Amy’s, which is just across the street from the White Swan, and I bought my kids some Chinese outfits from the vender right next to the 7-Eleven that’s across from the White Swan. It’s still quiet and lovely—although I’m sure it used to be filled with many more adoptive parents than we are seeing this week. I’ll bet you all remember this island vividly and fondly!

 A sleepy boy taking a morning nap

A warm bath before bed

Being snuggled by Mama after bath

Sweet sleeping Matthew