Family

Six years and one day ago, my family consisted of two people, just Frink and I.

Six years ago to the day, two became three. 

It's funny how the addition of just one teeny, tiny person changed everything.  One day earlier, I thought I knew who I was and what I was doing.  That day I knew nothing.  I didn't know up from down, left from right.  I just put one foot in front of the other and muddled through the best I could.

Three eventually became four.  I had successes and spectacular failures. I learned. I grew.


Mornings where I just wanted to throw in the towel and run away led to afternoons of laughter.  I think nothing of sneaking around the store like a ninja.  Stories I have heard over and over again become gloriously new when read to me by my child.   My house may never be clean.  I may not get a shower every day.  I won't know what I am doing more often than not.    But I know who I am.  I am a mom.  I am part of an amazing, crazy, perfect family.   Just Write

National Adoption Month - Stacey

Throughout November I will be sharing stories of families touched by adoption.

This is the story of Stacey who blogs at Is There Any Mommy Out There.

Perspective is a funny thing. There is no way to predict how the pain of now will translate into joy in the future.

When Matt and I lost our first baby to a late first trimester miscarriage, it was - by far - the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I didn't know where to turn or what to think. I had no markers or guideposts to cling to in such grief. The pain was so constant and overwhelming that it seemed certain that others could look at me and see the hole left by the end of my pregnancy. Lost expectations choked me daily and clinging to the fragile hope of a second pregnancy did nothing to ease the drag of days.

Matt tried to help me. He held me as I sobbed. He drove me to the surgery and held my hand through the IV and the cramps and the pain. He let me talk and talk and talk about our disappointment and my grief and my fears that I would never be able to have a baby. That this would be my experience of motherhood.

I have a strong belief in doing. I don't sit passively and let anything happen to me and I refused to let grief happen to me. If nothing else, I would be an active participant in distracting my own thoughts. I researched miscarriages and fertility. I comforted myself with the statistics that said that miscarriage was common and a couple able to conceive so easily had a high chance of eventually carrying a baby to term. I applied for a new job overseas because - dammit - if I couldn't be a mother, I would have the dream career that I wanted. I wouldn't sit still and hope for something out of my control to change my life. And, I researched adoption. Matt and I had talked about adopting often before we decided to try and have a baby. We had always felt open to different ways of building a family. I applied to volunteer at a small orphanage in the mountains outside of Port au Prince, Haiti. Just to see, I told Matt, for information and so that we can start to understand the process.

Months past. I got the job and we began the arduous process of relocating our lives overseas for the second time in our marriage, but I didn't get the baby. Despite our best efforts, the pregnancy tests I took so hopefully "three days before the start of my period!" stayed resolutely negative. Each one took its own little chip out of my hopes. At Christmas time, I heard final word that they had room for me to travel to Haiti and work at the orphanage for four weeks in January.

I kissed Matt, promised, futilely, not to give my heart and soul away to orphaned children half a hemisphere away and left ridiculously early on a freezing cold January morning. After a long night on the gritty airport floor in Miami, I arrived in the oppressive, tropical heat of Haiti, drove the rutted, mountain rode to the orphanage compound and promptly gave my slightly battered heart and soul away to orphaned children who now sat in my lap, clamored for my attention, slept in my arms and filled my days and my thoughts. Grief lost the battle for my consciousness to industry and giggles and dirty diapers and an exhausting routine with "my" eight children to love.

It was a life-altering month in a life-altering year. I flew home changed. I wanted to be a mother through adoption. I was already a mother a second time. I missed my period in Haiti.

Eighteen months, reams of paperwork, several ultrasounds, an endless labor, endless waiting and hoping and filing and an exhausting series of flights across the country later, I held my fourteen-month-old daughter and my twelve-month-old son together in my arms for the first time.

I thought it that day and still think it now when I watch my six-year-old "twins" play and laugh and fight and giggle.

Just maybe, losing a baby was the best thing that ever happened to me.

National Adoption Month - Camille and Jeff

Note: As part of National Adoption Month, I will be sharing stories of families who have been touched by adoption.

This is the story of Camille and Jeff.

For us, the desire to adopt was never a difficult one. We didn’t mourn the loss of ‘what couldn’t be’ too long—but rather forged ahead to the goal of creating our family. Adoption was the next logical step.

Initially, we only wanted “a baby” and not an older child, and hoped to adopt two at once. Upon filling out our Ukraine paperwork, we listed that we agreed to look at children age three and under—but babies were desired.

As this was an independent adoption, we traveled without a referral, and would be looking at photos at the National Adoption Center once in country. We leaned on our prayers that with the many orphans available, God would show us clearly which children were meant to be ours. It is very important to share that we prayed to keep our hearts open to what God would show to us.

Wanting two, but finding one
Never expecting to be drawn to an older child, we met and fell in love with a three year old boy who was ill; crib bound his whole life, weighing 21 pounds, and was still unable to crawl, walk or talk. His illness aside, our connection was instant—he had an undeniable spark, we adored him, and knew instantly he would be coming home with us. The great sadness of that trip was, we did not find a second child that we felt the same connection with. Jeff said, “Perhaps Camille, God is just showing us this one because he needs all of our attention in order to get well, and one day, we’ll come back and adopt again.” I liken it to a pregnancy where you are told you are having twins, but only come home with one baby—you rejoice for the one, but mourn for the other.” We were amazed what a wonderful experience it was adopting a child who was not a baby; we were so busy being happy with our three year old that there was no time to feel a void from not having a baby around. Joshua filled our hearts with such joy! Within a year, he was 100% completely healthy, strong, smart, and oh so sweet. Could there have been a reason God only showed us one child?

To Russia for two…
In October 2006 we found our agency and began the official paperwork for our next adoption. Along with our then eight year old Joshua, it was our hope to adopt two children, younger than he, and this time hoped for a boy and a girl. Though at the start of building our family we hoped for a baby, as a family we had evolved. Now having an eight year old, it only seemed right for us to consider older children rather than babies. Joshua dreamed of somebody to play with, more his age. With our eight year old, we were very mobile, enjoying hiking, biking, swimming and the outdoors, and considering adopting older children, we could keep on course with our active lifestyle. We knew the adopting experience may be different with older kids, but we knew the love in our hearts was there. Through research, we knew that typically most children over the age of five are not even considered for adoption, which is a real tragedy.

We completed our paperwork by January of 2007, and in March we were shown referrals. We were shown several different pairs of sibling sets, but none seemed to match exactly what we were looking for. In October of 2007, our agency called to tell us there was a boy and girl, but, they had two younger sisters. Yes—a sibling group of four! It was explained to us that these four children—a girl age six, a boy age five, a girl age three, and a girl age two—had little chance of getting adopted together based on the fact that there were four of them. Did we want to look at their referral information?

To be honest, we agreed to look at the photos more out of curiosity than having any serious intention of adopting them. So the agency sent the information and photos. We looked. They were beautiful. We wondered…could we? Our agency explained that we could take all the time we needed to make our decision because nobody wanted these children.

For weeks we looked at the photos constantly. We prayed. We discussed all the aspects of such a decision: the health of the children, our finances, our ability to cope, and how this would affect our now nine year old son. We understood the biggest adjustment would be his.

During our time of decision, we called the agency to ask what would happen to them if we decided not to adopt them, and were told that in all likelihood, they would be split up and made available separately for adoption. They were already split into two different orphanages, and that statistically, the two older children may never be adopted as there is only a 20% chance of being adopted after the age of five years—even less of a chance for boys.

To Russia for four?
Our pastor counseled us to seek information, and pray on each of the aspects, and then, assured us a decision would be made clear. For three weeks, we discussed every aspect. Our church, Hillcrest Bible Church, was willing to help us with a loan, which was a huge blessing. We were able to grow our bank loan, and we already had friends and family helping us with fundraisers. Still, financially, it was a lot to take on. Our doctor found the medical reports on all four children to be very good. Camille being a home daycare provider for young children was key: even though we were parents of one child, Camille has had years of experience managing groups of children. It weighed heavily on our hearts that this sibling group of four might get split up, and that these older children might be overlooked, and never get a chance at having a family. The biggest reason to adopt them all was the success and joy of adopting our first—he was a miracle! With all we learned through Joshua’s adoption, and the many ways we were blessed by it, along with the many prayers said to grow our family; this sibling group of four were the children that God had shown to us. At the end of three weeks, we decided. We wanted to create another miracle! We did sit down and discuss the idea with Joshua—and he was in agreement, and delighted! I’m sure people wonder “what I talked my husband into” but he came to the decision before me, Jeff said, “It comes down to what legacy I’ll leave behind. We just can’t leave them there, we should adopt all four of them.” I agreed, they were coming home with us.

On December 1, 2007, the three of us went to Russia to meet the four children, and it was love at first sight for all of us. On April 24, 2008, we adopted them in court. On May 19th, we brought them home to Wisconsin for good!

From three to seven…
All five children have grown together and have bonded nicely. We are amazed at how quickly this happened. All five go to regular school and are doing beautifully. They are all joy-filled, happy kids, and content with the new family they inherited. Adopting older children has been a wonderful experience, for them and for us. Of course there were challenges—the biggest one being learning a new language. In that aspect, the first two months were challenging, however, anticipating this, we had a list of five Russian speaking friends willing to be “on call 24/7”—and we utilized them! We purchased Russian picture books and tapes which were a help too. But, it was incredible how very quickly they learned English—the three and four year olds found adapting to English quite easy, and the six and seven year olds took a bit longer, but after only two months, we didn’t need translators help any longer.

It was also a challenge to manage the finances, but we were amazed how the community stepped in to help in welcoming our new children; people brought meals, food, supplies, toys, and clothes. God saw to it that our needs were met.

The biggest challenge was finding time to nurture our husband and wife relationship. Life at our house was busy—but we knew it was important to have “date night” and spend time without the kids to “recharge.” At the start, friends were hesitant to stay with five children, four of whom didn’t speak English! Now that the kids rely solely on English this is no longer a problem. We are one big happy family of seven!

Joy and hopes…
The kids have been home for about a year and a half now. Big brother Joshua, eleven years old, Annika, eight years old, James, seven years old, Tatyana, five years old, and Raissa, four years old, continue to amaze us! It has been such a joy to see these five little people grow five secure loving hearts because of the love we lavish on them, and being the direct recipients of the love they give freely in return. They have all grown as individuals, and we have grown as a family. We never imagined it would all go so well so quickly! Our family, community, friends, and especially our church welcomed them home with open arms. Our children understand that they are deeply loved.

So many times Jeff and I have had people applaud our adoption as a deed well done. “Wow! What you’ve done is fabulous! The world needs more people like you.” The truth is, the world has lot and lots of people like us. The world has lot of people who would love to adopt orphans, and for many, the lack of funds stand in their way. It is a disheartening reality—knowing that there are orphans waiting for families, and families waiting for orphans—and it is only finances that stand in the way of bringing these two together. I understand that adoption isn’t for everyone, but everyone should be for adoption. I’d like to challenge individuals to help other couples offset their adoption fees in any way they can. I’d like to challenge every church to set up an adoption fund that would be exclusively for bringing orphans home to loving families in their church.

Adopting older children…
Often, people that step into the adoption arena, only want infants. At first, we did too, so I can understand. But please consider the “over age three, four or fives” that wait. It is simply amazing how quickly they learn English, and though the first two months were difficult in the language area, it is merely a snippet in the memory of the grand scheme of things now. Older children have a unique insight that babies cannot share with you. It is a treasure to discuss memories of “before and after” adoption that they have. We discuss openly about their adoption, and make sure they understand that who they were is a part of who they are. Within weeks, they were all settled in to life in their new family, and very happy. Just a few short months after their adoption, we took a family vacation. Without much funds, it was a simple trip to a cabin to fish, swim and hike, and they had a ball! Kids don’t need fancy—they just need a family—they just want you to spend time with them, and love them. It is a process, getting to know each other, and we are still doing that. The trust and the love grows more and more each day. We saw so many beautiful children in the orphanage. We often think about the ones we left behind, who are waiting, hoping, for a family to come and bring them home.

Yes, adopting a sibling group of four older children was daunting at first, but now, Jeff and I can’t imagine our lives without them. The wonderful people at our agency worked together with us to make it possible. Our family, church family, and community came together with us to make this dream a reality. God answered our prayers in a big way, and we are so thankful to be so blessed.

National Adoption Month - Our Story

Note: November is National Adoption Month. Throughout the month, I highlighting the stories of families touched by adoption. I am starting with our story. I am dividing it in to parts, this is the story of why we chose adoption and how we came to adopt from China.

I am often asked why we chose adoption. As with many questions, the answer is both easy and complicated.

After Frink and I got married, we decided to try for a family right away. I was 29 at the time and thought it would be perfect to have my children in my early thirties. It fit right in with the life I had always dreamed of. But life does not always go according to our plans.

We tried to have children for seven years, yes seven. That time was filled with charts, calculations and computers. There were doctors visits and tests with no definitive diagnosis. With fingers crossed and breath held, we thought that maybe this would be it. We thought that over and over again and we were always wrong.

Finally, we had had enough. We did not want to give up on our dream of a family so that left us with two choices, fertility treatments or adoption. I knew people who had successful pregancies with fertility treatments and those who had not. Given the emotionial roller coaster of the past seven years, I could not subject myself to something that might not work. Fertility treatments were out.

So we started to consider adoption. The more we looked into it, it felt right. There were so many children waiting for families (by some estimates 147,000,000 worldwide), just as we were waiting for a child. There were children in foster care waiting for permanent homes. There were children being born every day to parents who could not care for them and were looking for a loving home for their child. There were children in orphanages around the world. We could be parents to one of those children.

After deciding on adoption, we had to determine which path was right for us. There are arguments to be made in favor of and against both domestic (either private or foster to adopt) and international adoptions. The more we researched the subject, the more we talked to families, the clearer it became that international adoption was right for us at the time.

Next came a decision on which country. There are adoption programs in so many different countries in different areas of the world, Asia, Europe, Africa, Latin America. How do you choose?

Well if you are like me, or a crazy person, it may go something like this. I began to notice how many adoptive children there were in our area. I stopped total strangers in the grocery store. I asked anyone and everyone who had an acquaintance who had adopted about their story. I read books, watched documentaries and did tons of research. I looked at the pros and cons of each country, the stability of the program, the number of trips required etc. I had adoption on the brain.

All of these paths kept leading me back to China. China. I knew of the situation there. The One Child Policy and a cultural preference for boys meant that there were thousands of girls waiting in orphanages. I knew without a doubt that one of those girls was our daughter.

For me so much of the process was like this. No matter how many roads there are, no matter how many doors are open, we always ended up on the proper road going through the right door. Another family with similar circumstances may have chosen a different road or a different door. This was the right one for us, the one that led us to Bunny.

In late 2004, we took a leap of faith. We submitted our paperwork to adopt from China. The decision on how and when we would have a child was no longer in our hands (not that it ever really was). It was now in the hands of social workers here and governemental officals half way around the world in China.

The homestudy was done. We were fingerprinted. Our backgrounds were checked. Paperwork was notarized, authenticated and certified. Our dossier was completed. On July 23, 2005 it was logged into the Chinese system and our wait for a referral began.

Waiting for an adoption referral is a lonely time. You know a baby is coming but there is no outward manifistation, no tell tale bump. Your friends cannot commiserate, they don't really understand. So you turn to the adoption community. We joined a local Families With Children From China group. We went to events and saw girls who had been adopted. It made it so much more real. These girls had come home, our daughter would too.

The process in China is very organized. Everything moves based on your log in date. The files move with others that were logged in on the same date. You can judge your process by looking at those before you. Referrals come in batches from X date to Y date. In the beginning they were coming every two weeks but then slowed to once a month. What was thought to be a six to nine month wait stretched out past the year mark.

When I saw that families with May 2005 and June 2005 had recieved referrals, I knew that we were next. Then the announcement came, CCAA had matched families through July 22nd. We were one day short and would have to wait another month. Families on the internet support groups were announcing their matches. I had to turn away, I was happy for them but sad for myself. But just when I was prepared to wait yet another month, I got a call. I got THE CALL. We had recieved a referral for a beautiful seven month old girl. Thirteen months after our paperwork had been logged in and almost two years after we had started the process, we were going to be parents.

You can read about our journey to meet Bunny in China here, here and here.

Celebrations Galore

This weekend was full of activity, wonderful, busy, beautiful family activity. This was the kind of weekend I will treasure forever, tucking away the snapshots to pull out when times are not so beautiful and wonderful.

First up was Halloween.

Fun times collecting candy at Daddy's office. We also went at night on Saturday but there are no pictures because I have a sad little original i-phone with no flash.

Bunny was a dalmation (not a cow). She actually trick or treated part of the night running on all fours like a dog (It's a thing both she and her best friend do all the time. It makes my back hurt just looking at them.)

Lion was a dinosaur and stomped around going roar all night.

Back view of the costumes because I made them. I need you all to see each and every scale I cut out and glued on Lion's tail and spine just to make the several hot glue gun burns I recieved worth it.

Because it's awesome (Frink was the pig).

Gratuitous cute Lion dinosaur picture.

Yesterday was Bunny day, the 5th anniversary of becoming a family in China. You can find the story here. To celebrate the day we drove to Chicago. We spent the day at the Shedd Aquarium and the Tower formerly known as Sears.

Fish.

Bunny pretending she's a penguin.

Submarine

Nothing says "I'm afraid of heights" quite like sitting in a plexiglass box 103 stories above the ground. Holy Hannah that is high.

Looks like a good place for a nap.

Riding the L.

It was a beautiful day celebrating a beautiful girl.

The Lion King Comes Home

The journey started so many months ago with a piece of paper, an envelope and a stamp. That first piece of paper was followed by so many more. Paper ruled my life. It was an emotional roller coaster that I was not sure I would survive.

The paper roller coaster finally ended and a true journey started.

It started with a plane ride. Three plane rides full of anxious joy or joyous anxiety. (You know the kind when you are so excited and terrified that you think you will burst out of your skin or puke.) There is not so much to do on a plane except think. Thinking about what it will be like, how he will be.

I thought and thought about it. In fact it was more of an obsession. I could not wait to see him. It was torture to got to the hotel next to the care center knowing that we would have to wait some more to see him.

When the time finally arrived, all of the families walked to the care center and waited in the main room to meet their children for the first time. They brought the children in one by one. The infants were carried and the toddlers walked. The parents waited with anxious joy until they were able to hold their children.

Lion was brought in towards the end. I could see him walking down the stairs. He was nervous and crying. I do not know what he thought or felt at that moment but he was not happy. When he was placed in my arms for the first time, he cried, screamed and pushed away. He was looking for someone, anyone but me.

It was not the moment I pictured but I was prepared. I did my best to reassure him but he would not be comforted. We were told that he had bonded with one of the nannies. I was relieved. The fact that he had formed an attachment meant that he could transfer the attachment to us.

I was relieved but the next two days of visits to the care center were difficult. While other families were playing with their children, Lion would cry, hit and bite Frink and myself. He was always looking for a nanny to come and save him. We did the best we could, holding and rocking him. "Ishi, ishi, ishi" I repeated those words over and over. "It's ok. It's ok. It's ok." At times I was repeating it more to myself than him.

Finally on June 15, 2010 (after a visit to the region where he was born and a visit with his birth father - a story I will not tell here but keep for him) we took custody of our little Lion. This is the day I choose to celebrate as our family day. This is the day we became a family with Lion.

Walking out of the doors of the care center and back to our hotel caused a shift in our relationship. It was as if he saw us for the first time. He looked at us in this new environment and thought "okay it's them". He did not fight us. He did not look for someone else. He did not cry. Instead, he began to relax. He began to allow us in.

It was that time, spent in a hotel room 7900 miles from home, that our family bond began. The journey that began with a piece of paper ended with a little boy sleeping in our arms.

We were his. He was ours. We were a familly.

Indescribeable

How can you describe the indescribeable?



How can you capture a life changing event?


How can you put into words, the feelings and emotions of meeting your child for the first time?


How can you? How can you, when you don't even understand the power, the beauty, the love that you felt.



You can not name the feelings you have for the people who have loved your child before you. Love. Gratitude. Those words are not enough to describe what you feel for these people. They have become a part of your family. You will keep them in your prayers. You will repeat their names to your son so that he will know. He will know how truly blessed he is to have had them in his life even for a short time. He is blessed because of them. You are blessed because of them.


You can not put into words how the country of his birth has captured your heart. The beauty and the ugliness tug at you. You have touched the earth. The soul of the country has seeped into your bones, wrapping itself tightly around your heart. A part of you belongs to Ethiopia. You would not have been complete if you had not gone there. You would not have known who you are and what you were meant to do. You ache for the land, for the people of his country. You yearn to go back to help, to be helped. You will tell your son what his country means to you. You will help him understand that he is blessed to have come from such a place, such a people. You are blessed because of Ethiopia.




You can not describe the joy you feel because of your son. Your heart leapt out of your body when you saw the face you had only seen in pictures. His face. The feel of his body in your arms was the most beautiful feeling ever. Even as he cried and pushed you away, you knew that this boy was meant to be yours. You saw glimpses of it in his eyes. You waited patiently, knowing that he would understand. You knew that he would feel it to. The moment he first smiled at you, the moment he touched your face, the moment he fell asleep in your arms, the moment he began to trust you. These moments are what you had longed for. These moments made the months of agony, of waiting, disappear. These moments made you a family. You are blessed because of them.



You can not say exactly how you found something that you thought was lost forever. You found faith. You found belief. You felt the faith in the families you were traveling with. You saw the nannies' belief that they were fulfilling a calling by caring for our children. In all that you saw and all that you experienced, you understood and you believed.

The only thing that you can say is that you are not done with the adoption journey. The moment you saw the children in the Durame care center, something that had been gnawing at you for the entire trip became clear. You are meant to do this again. You are meant to love another child. You are meant to go through this experience again.

He is ours!

We took custody of Lion today. I am the happiest momma in all of the world. He is such a beautiful and sweet boy. I cannot wait for you all to meet him!

Wordy Wednesday

I love Wordless Wednesday, just a picture, no words. I love looking at all the pictures and imagining the story behind them. I love seeing a glimpse into what someone's world looks like, what they like, what they find beautiful or important.

I have a picture I want to share. A brand new picture I am dying to share with all of you. I want to, but I can't. Its against the rules.

So I am going to use words to describe it. I know I will fail because a thousand words, a million words, all the words in the world are not enough to capture the essence of this picture. They are not enough to describe the beauty, the feelings it invokes. Words cannot capture my little Lion.

The first thing you notice is the eyes. They are the biggest eyes I've ever seen, beautiful, deep and dark eyes. The kind of eyes you could get lost in. The kind of eyes that if you stare into them long enough you think you might just find the secrets to the universe. I know I've found a piece of my soul there.

Next is the smile. Its a beautiful, baby smile. You notice the teeth, oh my goodness he has two teeth. You can't wait to see that smile in person, to hear him laugh or giggle.

In one of the pictures you can see the future. Through the look in his eyes and the sly grin on his face you know that he will make all the girls fall in love with him. I know I surely have.

He is small. I want to wrap him in my arms and never, ever let go. He is strong. I can picture him tearing around my house, chasing his sister and the cats.

This is a picture of my son. My words do not do him justice. He is beautiful. He is my heart. He is my Lion.

Three Years Ago

Three years ago. It seems like it was only yesterday. I can remember the sights, the smells, the sounds of that moment. I can even remember what it felt like to touch you.

Three years ago. It seems like forever. I cannot remember what it was like before. It is as if things have always been this way.

Three years ago, everything changed.

Three years ago, I became the person I was meant to be. The person that nineteen years of education and thirty seven years of living had not prepared me for.

Three years ago, I became a mother.

Three years ago, we became a family.

Three years ago, we traveled half way around the world to meet you.

Three years ago, one journey ended and another one began.

Three years ago, there was you.



Three years ago, there was us.



Three years ago, there was forever.

A Love Letter

Dear Lion,

Do you mind if I call you Lion. I have read your story thus far and the name seems to fit you. You are brave. You are strong. You are a survivor.

When I saw your picture, I fell in love. I knew, in that instant, that we were destined to be together. I have spent the moments since, studying the lines of your face, staring in to your beautiful eyes. I have your face memorized. I can close my eyes and see you before me, laughing, smiling, calling my name. You are mine and I am yours.

But I see that I have gotten a little ahead of myself. You do not know me. We have not been properly introduced.

I am your mother.

And you are my son.

My son. My son. My son.

I repeat those words over and over like a mantra as if by speaking those words you can hear me calling you. Those words connect us through time and space. We are one you and I despite the miles between us. 7,500 miles, oceans, mountains, continents, languages separate us.

They separate us now but we will be together soon. You will know me, know my face as surely as I know yours. We will be a family forever.

I used to call you Turtle, but I was wrong. You were not slow, I was. I delayed and stalled, dragging my feet. I didn't know why. But now I do. I was waiting for you, my son.

And now I must wait a little while longer to hold you in my arms. This may be the hardest wait of all. But I know that it will be worth it because you and I will be together, forever.

My lion. My son.

Love,
Your Mother

I Love You Happily Ever After

We entered the Office of Civil Affairs in Nanchang, Jiangxi, China on October 30, 2006. Two long years of waiting were over and we were going to finally be a family.

I had some idea what to expect when I walked through the door. I had spoken with a few families who had done this and I had seen a video of the process. What I thought was going to happen is that our group would be in a conference room. They would bring in the babies and call each family forward to be united with their child.

That is what I thought would happen. But in reality I can best describe it as crying and chaos, chaos and crying. Babies were crying. Parents were crying.

We walked into a large room and there were several groups of families waiting for their children. Nannies and babies sat on one side of the room. It seemed like no one was running the show.

I looked all over for Bunny. I had only seen a few pictures but I was sure I would recognize her. And I did. She was sitting on a nanny's lap staring out into a sea of unfamiliar faces. While some of the babies were crying, Bunny was not. She seemed nervous but calm.

I wanted to run to her, to grab her in my arms and never let go. But I couldn't. I had to wait my turn. Our guide located the orphanage director and they had to match the babies to the parents. Several other families in our group got their babies but we were still waiting.

Finally they called our name. Bubs manned the video camera and we handed our new camera to someone we didn't know. I walked up to the director and finally was able to hold Bunny in my arms. I just stared at her. She was so tiny and perfect.

She was wearing a bright yellow shirt and yellow pants with electric blue split pants. Most of the other babies from the orphanage were wearing the same thing. She was holding a stuffed bear that we had sent to her in a care package. It was the only familiar thing she had at that moment.

She was 9 1/2 months old. She had spent about six months living with a foster family. She went back to the orphanage when she was matched with us. She was leaving the only familiar home she had to go with these strangers. They didn't look like anyone she had seen before. They didn't sound like anything she was used to. She could not have understood what was happening to her but she really didn't cry.

Being first time parents we had no idea what to do. We had brought bottles from the US and we were given formula and rice cereal when we arrived in China. But of course we didn't bring any of this with us. We only brought a bowl of Cheerios. It wasn't enough. She had left the orphanage early in the morning and traveled for 3 hours on a bus. She was tired and hungry and her new parents didn't have any food for her. Poor girl.

But we were finally together. We were finally a family. We would figure this all out together. We would figure out what it meant to be her parents. She would figure out what it meant to be our daughter. What it meant to be our forever family.