Today as I finished my packing, it really hit me that I will be leaving for China in two days and a wakeup, as Mr. B. says it. Next Sunday I will meet Shi Wu for the first time. The very strange thing is that we have been staring at her picture for almost a year now, praying for her and loving her from a distance. All the time, she has been going through her daily routine at the orphanage. It isn't that great of a life, but it is all she knows. Children are so resilient and find ways to entertain themselves in the worst of circumstances. She has no idea that her life is about to change, radically and completely. We know that it is for the better--she will have a family to love her and advocate for her to get whatever medical care or therapies she needs, she will never go hungry again, and she will have a nice house, a backyard, a little bed all her own, and more toys than any child really needs--but she has no way of knowing all that. It is hard to think about that day from her perspective. She may have no warning at all, be taken out of the orphanage, put in a car, and taken to one of the most expensive hotels in Lanzhou. On the way to the hotel they may tell her that she is getting a family, and give her the care packages we have sent. Before she has time to try to figure out what it means, she will be handed over to a stranger. She doesn't know that I'm her mama, and that I have ached to hold her for months and months. From her perspective, the day that all of the rest of us have been looking forward to for so long will seem like a kidnapping. I know the pain that causes a child, because I had to listen to the anguished screams of my oldest son when we came to get him after his adoption was finalized. It was at least 6 months before I felt he accepted us as his family. He was only 6 months old, but he was a very sad little boy. I am almost afraid to think about taking a little girl who is almost 5 years old away from everything she has ever known. She won't care that the hotel is expensive, and she doesn't know that without the medical care she can get here in the US, she is unlikely to live through her teen years. She has just survived for four and a half years in an institution and she is about to lose whatever routine and stability she has, along with her country, language, and even familiar food and smells.
Here are some pictures of my little bear, Fermin, the day he was handed off to us. He cried and cried and cried. Bryan walked the floor with him because he didn't really want the strange blonde lady near him. The next day Jose was playing with toys, and Fermin had stopped crying some of the time, but you can see the pain and despair in his little eyes.
I rarely look at these pictures because it almost hurts more now to see them, all these years later, now that he is my happy little snuggle bear. Now that I know him better I can see even more how devastated his little world was. For all he knew, his wonderful foster mom was his mama, and he was being stolen from her. Here is a post by another adopting mom on the same topic. Adoptive moms have to be very strong, to not take the new child's reaction personally, and to love unconditionally even when the child doesn't want you to.
I am praying that on that day I have waited for, for so long, that I will be able to comfort sweet little Shi Wu, and that her little heart will heal as quickly as possible. I have cute clothes for her, and toys, but what she needs most is just love, and a family. I will do my best to meet her needs so she can start to trust me. I can't do anything about having a big nose and blonde hair and blue eyes, but hopefully she will look past that and realize that I really want to be her mama.
