Two weeks home

Well, I had every intention of blogging each day that we were in country, and updating frequently after we arrived home.  Obviously, that didn't happen.

So I guess I should start with where I left off.  Our first two days in country were awesome!  We landed on a Saturday and spent some time exploring with a friend of ours, and had every intention of meeting up with them again Sunday morning, but we woke up and realized it was already 1:00 in the afternoon.    Jet lag, y'all.  It is intense.

Several friends donated money to purchase donations for the orphanage, so we stocked up at the local store, with the help of our friends.  I could feel the judgmental glances as we checked out huge cart-fulls of toys, while only having one child with us.  I'm sure we fit the American stereotype in that moment.  ;)

Sunday night was weird.  I set up Little Man's playpen and organized all of the toys for the orphanage.  It was entirely bizarre to think he would be with us again in just a few hours.  It was strange to think our lives were about to completely change...

Since I would probably be the most interested in what a Gotcha Day looks like, I'll try to spell out most of the details here.  ;)

Monday morning, the driver and our translator met us at 7 am, helped us load all the toys into the van, waited patiently when we remembered we had left the driver's payment in the room, and then we were off!  Since the jet lag was still wrecking havoc on our ability to stay awake, the drive to the orphanage is still kind of a blur.  Baby Girl slept the entire drive (maybe and hour and a half), while the hubs and I took dozens of pictures of the gorgeous sunflower fields along the way.  I had a few moments of fear when I would look out the window and realize we were on the edge of a mountain, with only a couple feet between us and tumbling off the side.  Seriously, it was a guardrail, then a straight drop off.   Our driver was nice, but not as talkative as the driver from our first trip, and he also liked to play a rousing game of "chicken" with oncoming 18-wheelers as he passed cars on two-lane streets.
I tried to focus on the sunflowers.

We started to see signs for Little Man's town and knew we were getting closer.   The knots in our stomachs at this point were unreal.  The driver pulled up to one building and kept looking from his paper with the address back to the building, while the hubs and I kept shaking our heads, "Nope.  Nope.  This isn't it."  After a few turns, we recognized the orphanage gates immediately.  For the first time ever, we saw other children.  There were maybe 10-20 kids playing outside on the swings and slides, nannies watching them and us simultaneously.  Little Man's nanny was standing outside and shook our hands.  I could tell something was wrong, and I wondered if her heart was breaking a little at the thought of letting Little Man leave with us.  We saw on the first trip that they clearly have a very strong bond.

Children ran up to us and tugged on our clothes.  We tried to touch their hands and smile at them as much as possible.  The language barrier was immensely frustrating at this point.  I knew Little Man was getting a family in just a few minutes, but I was aching to spare a few minutes, sit on the front steps and hug and whisper loving words to the orphans who would be left behind.  Possibly forever.

We were ushered into the director's office, where we met her several months ago.  We told her (through the translator) about the donation of toys in the van.  We had brought along a gift for her and Little Man's special nanny also.  They asked for the clothes to dress Little Man in, since the clothes belonging to the orphanage must stay there.  The hubby was asked to go help unload the toys, but they sent him back into the little room with us when they realized Little Man was almost ready.  The director had a few pictures of him from the past.  What a precious, priceless gift for a mama who has no other baby pictures of her only son.  One picture of him as a baby and his nanny, and a couple from his birthday last year.  (I was thrilled to know that his life was celebrated in our absence!  We asked our agency for Little Man's file on his birthday last year- of course, we didn't know it was his birthday at the time.  I don't have words to describe how touching it is to have a picture of what your little boy was doing at the exact time you found him.  Indescribable.)

We heard him crying in the hallway and then finally got a glimpse of him coming into the room with his nanny.  We could tell he was very anxious, but recognized us and called us by name.  We handed him small toys in hopes of calming his fears, but when his nanny tried to hand him to me, the screams broke out.  I think he knew that everything was about to change, although I'm not sure he knew exactly what was happening.   His nanny tried to help him with toys and our picture book, but when he kept begging for her, she excused herself from the room.  Of course, that made him more hysterical, so the director motioned for me to let her hold him.  She carried Little Man into the hall to find his beloved nanny.  When they all walked back in, she was wiping her own tears too.

Since the director needed to have some paperwork done on the donations, we all walked out to the front yard where some of the other children were playing, hoping that it would help Little Man relax.  He didn't.  He cried the entire time.  So did his nanny, who has been his "mama" since his first day at the orphanage.  I remembered I had brought pictures of the two of them together for her, so I dug them out of the backpack and handed them to her.  She was very obviously touched.  I instructed the translator to tell her that we will always tell Little Man of her love and kindness, and that we will keep the same pictures of her for him to remember.

There were so many little children toddling around the playground, each one beautiful.  One little boy (who I recognized-  I can't figure out where I have seen his picture though), walked right up to us, reached his arms up and called, "Mama! Daddy!"

I don't think there is any way to describe the intensity of that moment.

How do you get in the car, drive away from these faces you have cupped and memorized, and know that probably, no Mama and Daddy will ever come for them?

...

Before we knew it, it was time to leave.  We were there maybe 20-30 minutes total.  Little Man went unwillingly into his car seat next to his daddy, while Baby Girl asked why he was crying so much.  I think he was told that his nanny was coming too, and he was quickly realizing that wasn't happening.  As the last one in the car, I shook the director's hand, and then the nanny stuck hers out to shake too.  I did quickly, then opened my arms to hug her.  She squeezed me tightly and I could feel her body shaking from the sobs.

Adoption ALWAYS comes from a place of loss.  Children don't live in orphanages because their lives prior have been unicorns and rainbows.   In adoption training, we are continuously reminded to remember that as beautiful as it is to watch a new family be born, we must remember that the other side of that coin is always loss.  Little Man has now experienced two losses: the circumstances that brought him to the orphanage in the first place, and leaving his nanny.   We weren't there the first time, but being present as he grieved this woman he has called "mama", is a permanent reminder of the pain that is the beginning of the glorious unfolding in adoption.

He cried for a while in the car, before eventually realizing that his Daddy's goofy attempts to make him smile weren't likely to end soon.  ;)

We drove back to the city, stopped to have his physical (nothing says "welcome to the family" like immediately having blood work drawn), and went back to the hotel.   There was a little bit of time where the Hubs and I exchanged glances of, "Ok, now what?"  But the kids started playing and giggling, and we somehow slowly, and yet immediately, became a family of four.

...

Maybe one of these days, I'll be able to write out the rest of our experiences in Little Man's first country.  I will say that it was probably one of the best weeks of our lives, other than when Little Man decided to stop eating- that was not fun.  We loved being there.  The people were so kind and the country is beautiful.  And can I mention what it's like to dry your hair and not have humidity?!?!  ;)  I'm sure the Hubs has already researched how to get their version of orange Fanta delivered to our house.  Yes, it was that much better than what we have here.

Now we move on to settling in and starting our new life.  Little Man is adjusting beautifully, all things considered.  We were prepared from all of our training to experience a LOT of attachment issues and such, but Little Man is doing remarkably well.  He is still timid around new people (which is actually a very healthy attachment quality), and gets overwhelmed with lots of noise, so we are learning how to best avoid those situations and comfort him when we cannot.  He does like to give high-fives, so if you see us out and about, feel free to ask for one, but please try to refrain from hugging or rubbing his back.  It is still too much for him to handle at this point.  He will probably yell and swat at you.  ;)

We have been to our pediatrician (who is AWESOME), and already have appointments to see some specialists about his spina bifida.  We are hoping to fill in some of the gaps in his medical information in the coming weeks.  We have to start at the beginning, in many ways, to learn exactly what his spine looks like and what further treatment is necessary.  I have a feeling surgery is in our near future to correct some issues I see, but we know the medical teams will have more answers for us.

We appreciate your continued prayers as we learn how to parent TWO wonderful children, and also for healing in Little Man's little body.  We don't know what the specialists will say, but we are praying that the LORD will allow him to walk one day.