big thoughts, some prayers

After a busy Spring Break, I am in Chicago with my art students, and somewhere in the night, our Travel Approval is making its way to our agency and then our home. I have not yet sent our completed visa applications out, I have not taken our immunization cards to get their updated stamps, I have not heard back from urologists, and, the worst--I have not sent the package we're allowed to send our son, and there is no way now that it could arrive in time for his birthday.

I look at the manner in which time has run through my fingers like fine sand, and I am at a loss to account for this. Now that I am warm and in my hotel for the evening, seeing snowy shadows flit outside in the streetlight, I find the doubts that this birthday thing raises come with other big questions.

Most of these are about Yoyo's beginnings. What was his mother's pregnancy like? Was it her first? Did she know something was off kilter as her son's body began to slowly split? Who saw him first, I wonder? Had they ever seen anything like his condition? And how, how in the world were they not overcome with fear to the point of stopping his tiny breaths? How did either of them find the courage to let go of him in the desparate hope that he might survive? What did she do in those first nights after he'd gone, what did she tell her own mother or the friends who wished her well all along her pregnancy? What did she do with the tiny clothes she had put together or the dreams, and how many times did she look away from the eyes of neighbors who thought some evil must surely have come upon her home? What will she think this April 6?

For his father, I hope. I hope that he does not fear himself or blame himself or his wife. I pray that it does not cast aspersions on his manhood or his ability to be a good father and husband. I hope that he is not doubted by his family or friends. What will he think this April 6?

For his mother, I hope. I hope that she does not fear or blame. I hope that she could somehow know that her Tian Yo is not just suriving, but is delighted and delightful. I pray that the moment of his birth and their discovery and helplessness to do for him themselves and courage to find a way for him does not lurk as a dark shadow between them. May God bring mercy between father and mother, husband and wife. May there be peace in their home, and trust between them, and no fear of tomorrow. May they eat dinner together and know they did what was best for their son, and may they have more children, to comfort them as they grow old.

And for that little boy, full of boundless energy, I dream...I dream that he will be at peace with himself and his birth parents and us and his siblings (if and whenever they come). I hope that someday, the story he has heard of in bits and pieces and segments familiar as Sunday School Old Testament prophets and lions and giants will become HIS very own story to tell and to build upon, a birthright, an inheritance, a hope and a future and an ebenezer of God's mercy and faithfulness. And that he will survive his wordy, sentimental, dreamy-eyed mother!

running to stand still

I am amazed with every hour that passes now.

Yesterday, we finally received word of Tian You's measurements and weight. Congratulations, we're the proud parents of a 25 pound, 34.5" tall baby boy. My heart swelled with joy, and just before I could burst forth into sparrow-like song (think strangled sparrow), I remembered the first favorite photo I saw of him, with those chubby baby armlets. Oh, how I hope there's still some baby left in that little boy!!!

We got a new photo, a notice that our travel package is on the way (not the same as travel dates--this is just a packet of forms), a new $4000 grant from Gift of Adoption, a gift of $250 from the Tri-M music honor society at CPA, (only $ 3000-$ 4000 to go!), visited Shaohannah's Hope, and gave notice at school that I would not return next year.

What? How much could happen in a day? Well...I thought it was a little slow, so I asked our agency to change the spelling of our son's name to Tian Yo for easier pronunciation. Did I mention our estimated group travel date is May 9? Which means our personal estimated specially-approved one-week-early travel date is May 1?

Strange, that. In my spare time these days, I'm learning interesting things that no agency tells parents. For instance, if you've got a kid with ostomies, you have to pre-cut catheters and such prior to boarding a plane or entering an American consulate, because those guys get squeamish around scissors. Afraid of the sight of blood, I guess. Then, if you've got a kiddo with a bladder made of bowel tissue, you'd better be sure to tote bottled water with you because he'll need sterile water to flush that bladder every day. Additionally, if you're picking him up from a foster home, odds are all his equipment has been donated and is equally needed by other children, so you'd better pack your own stash of ostomy supplies for two weeks when you leave the US. How do I know? Research--endless reading in the wee hours. No agency guidelines here.

I spoke with the inestimable Kathy McKinney today, and the whole time, I marveled at how much information we have going into this. REALLY-I cannot take it for granted. EVER. She exclaimed, "How many folks don't have that kind of access to the information you've been able to get for this little guy and find themselves just lost? What do folks in rural places do when they don't have anyone handy to turn to?"

My point exactly. I wonder, more and more, how many hopeful parents find themselves accepting a child with far greater needs than they anticipated, knowing all the while that there will be no help forthcoming from their agency and that their home community is still perhaps struggling with questions like, "Why'd you have to get a kid from China? Were the American ones not good enough?" and, "Why'd you want one with problems anyway? Didn't you get what you asked for?" Where is their hope?

all in a day...

At church, we welcomed Rinda home and feasted on fresh pics and video of our little prince. Later that evening, T. emailed from YouYou's house to say she enjoyed the visit from our friends and the photo ball we sent. She happened to ask what our agency had told us thus far about travel. She wondered if we'd be able to come early to learn Youyou's routine and to practice his ostomy regimen (St. Louis told me "no" the other week), when we'd be traveling-she'd heard April (St. Louis told me May 9), and how the transfer would happen (St. Louis told me Youyou would go to Jiaozuo, but could it be they hadn't told her anything?).

I must admit that I was still concerned about Youyou's travel to Jiaozuo. I've explained already that in taking custody of Tian You, we would need to travel from Beijing to Henan, where he would have been transferred to his Social Welfare Institute some two weeks earlier. The difficulty in this would be his care--a disruption in the regimen to care for his ostomies and bladder could easily lead to a kidney infection, which would quickly take us from the adoption journey to a hospital one. While I was encouraged--HUGELY--by the knowledge that the healing home we'd visited last March had a care unit in Youyou's orphanage, I learned that it is a pallative care unit, and when I mentioned it to St. Louis, of course they discouraged me from contact.

So I forwarded T's questions to our agency, adding my own concerns that our child's health be the primary consideration. I know that thousands of adoptions take place in China annually, but Youyou already has extremely unusual circumstances and needs. And so I did not dare to hope as I replied to T, citing all the bland policy that had been recited to me about what would happen when we came to China.

Three hours and a Guiness later, I checked the email one more time before calling it a night. It was about 1:30 am. T had written back! She had just spoken with our agency's Beijing office, and their reps said that OF COURSE we would need to come a week earlier than normal and stay near YouYou's house to learn and practice his regimen so he'd be safe! And OF COURSE there wouldn't be a need for him to stay the requisite two weeks in his Social Welfare Institute, because he already has a passport from his trip to the States in July!! If it was necessary for us to make an appearance at Jiaozuo to sign his adoption papers, WE WOULD BE ABLE TO TRANSPORT HIM THERE OURSELVES, SIGN THE PAPERS, AND LEAVE!!!! Could this be true??? T assured us she was already trying to find a place we could stay, so that we wouldn't have to worry about extra hotel expenses.

WHAT IS THIS?!?!?!?!

So, with a broad smile, I forwarded this new and improved email to St. Louis, prefacing it with a word of explanation. Just before noon today, I got a reply--the briefest.

"Thanks for your emails. S. has already emailed us and we will be happy to make arrangements for an earlier arrival for your family."

That was followed by the email from S. herself, from our agency's Beijing office, stating the necessaries quickly and with authority.

And so now we're on the express train again!

yo-yo-yo, Youyou

So we were wrong.

We thought our little guy's name easily pronounced. You-you. I told folks that it was as if he was named "you" two times, which was almost like being named U2, which surely was the seal of God upon this adoption. All in jest, of course. Okay, I really believed it. Not really. Maybe a little. No. (yes)

Phemie T., amazing friend and fabulous chef, told us that the character in Youyou's name should sound more like "Yo," as in Yo-Yo Ma. That in fact, if it was pronounced, "You," it would change the very meaning of the name. When I learned that our son would not need a pelvic osteotomy after all--those were harrowing days in November--I heard the name as, "Youyou."

So we've told everyone of our son Youyou, have made jokes about his name, even recorded our messages in our first words ever to him in the photo ball--all with the wrong pronunciation.

Our son is Youyou, pronounced "Yoyo."

Yo?

the day my brain went blurry

Too early this morning, Shane was up and readying the camera. Yesterday's caller said that our Confirmation Letter would come via UPS today--between 8 am and 7:30 pm. Impressed with the pinpoint precision (not 8 pm, but 7:30 pm!), and suprised by the agency's casual attitude (the UPS man doesn't require a signature, so if you're not home, he'll leave your referral in the door), we opted to stay home and wait for our child to arrive. Some call this delivery "The Brown Stork." I find that phrase troubling, to say the least, but Shane delighted in texting, "The Brown Stork has Arrived" again and again. By the 22nd time, I'm sure he was just sending it to himself to read it.

So our guy came at 9 am, and out we ran, barefoot in the rain, with barking dog and camera in hand. Our UPS guy was caught off guard, oddly enough, by our reception of him. Perhaps terrified, but masking it well. He was probably 12 last week, but now he's old enough to drive, and we cheerfully told him he was bringing us our child in that envelope and could we take his photo, please. He was very obliging. We staged a tableau. Perhaps Youyou will not doubt its authenticity.

Tribute also arrived in the form of another email, this time from friend Rinda, who is in China and has taken a certain delight in reminding us that she has video of our little boy. She says we'll have our hands full.

When can my heart beat again? Will any day matter until I see him?

ALMOST THERE!!!

It has happened!! The Letter Seeking Confirmation has come!!!!!!! Tomorrow, we'll skip work to begin the flurry of preparations necessary and to wait on our trusty UPS man to bring us our referral packet.

As if that was not enough, we also got some brand new yummy yummy photos from Uncle T. Note the photos in the ball on the table.

"Small but dangerous"--indeed.