here fishy, fishy, fishy...

Memorial Day marked a year and a day since we landed in Nashville's BNA airport with our sweet prince.  I can't even remember what we did that first day back.  I think sleep was involved, but it seemed there was a stream of visitors and well-wishers, too.  Shane's folks were in town, and they stayed at a hotel to give our brand new family some space to recover--and then dropped in to make sure we were getting fed and rested.  Yeah, grandparents!

This year was different, though.  We dug worms out of the compost pile and headed off to the Jones' ranch for a fancy steaks-from-the-grill lunch and finished it off with an afternoon of fishing.  YoYo's first time fishing was GREAT!  He caught about 8 of the smallest bluegill we've ever seen, but he was so tickled and he loved handling the worms.  

He paused midway through the excursion to wax philosophical on us.  I had to cath him while his buddy Cole was present, and he asked, "Why do I have a stoma?"  Thinking on it now, I realize that was THE OhmygoshwhatamIgonnasaywhenheasksthat moment, but at the time we were just zipping right along, so I said, "That's what God helped the doctors give you-everybody has to potty, and there's lots of different ways to do it."  So he turns to Cole and says, "God made all things, Cole.  Did you know that?  I can teach you that."  Cole laughed and said, "Of course He did, silly poophead."  I alone was present to see the tale unfold--and it was funny.

As the shadows got longer and the prince tired, we piled into the car and drove away, our tiny fish happy and safe back in their home pond.  What a great day to spend with friends!  

Of course, the evening ended with us gingerly removing ticks as secretively as possible inside the ER of Vandy Children's Hospital while awaiting labs, but that's what keeps us humble 'round these parts.  Looking like Ma and Pa Kettle at the ER.

Of course tonight, my Dad called to ask YoYo about the fishing trip.  "Can you take me fishing, YoYo?" he asked after YoYo boasted loudly, "I caught EIGHT FISH, Papa!"  

YoYo replied somberly, "Well, I guess you'll have to take us--I'm not allowed to drive yet."

Something tells me it's all happening...

We went to the zoo last week with friends.  What a great idea to take three boys & their little sisters to the zoo together & have a picnic lunch!  Of course, only one of the two sisters wanted to be in the photo-when the other one burst into tears & screaming mid-shoot, YoYo looked at her & declared, "That's pitiful."

Sunday nights, the same three boys, parents, & sisters get together with Susan at the home of "pitiful" to enjoy potluck dinner & a few hours of train table time (or TV, or the swingset, whatever).  We needed to leave early this past Sunday to make a quick appearance at a high school graduation party nearby.  YoYo protested, "I just want to play!" & our sweet friends insisted we leave him with them while we made our grownup jaunt.  We joked on the way down the road that it would be funny to "talk someone down from the ledge" if YoYo filled his colostomy pouch to bursting.  It was whistling in the dark--worst-case scenario.

You know what happened next.  Within 20 minutes of arrival at the fete, a call came on my cell with Ken (pitiful's Dad) saying, "Anna, what happens if..." & the call was dropped.    

Oh, no.  So the host gave me a land line & I called to find out that the worst-case scenario happened, & it was time to tell my dear sweet Susan via phone how to change my son's pouch. These are better friends than we deserve.  A fellow partygoer (a health-care pro) told us, "Take your time, finish your cake.  He's fine."  We did, & when we got back to YoYo, he had new clothes & still wasn't ready to leave-"WordWorld" was on TV.  By the time we got home, we had to change him again.

Monday night, he complained of a bellyache, & then strange things happened with his pouch that raised alarm.  We called the right folks & ended up in the Vandy Children's Hospital ER. Until 5 this morning.

Two x-rays, two vials of blood, many tests, & a worn-out YoYo later, we learned he's fine, just a little backed up.  The possibilities ranged from that to stoma blockage to liver problems to anemia to scary.  Our boy hollered proper when his blood was drawn, & the observation room we had was the size of a Chicago bus stop shelter, but it's all ok.  He's ok.

I don't know how long it will be, though, before we're brave enough to leave him & go on a date again.  This was the 1st time that we left him with someone other than kinfolk for a date-like moment.  As another fellow partygoer declared, "I guess sh*t really does happen!"  I shouldn't laugh, but I did.

I do still.  I guess it is a light & tumble journey from the Eastside to the park, just to find a fancy ramble at the zoo. 

looking back

Today was YoYo's last day of preschool.  Wow.  Just wow.  He has so enjoyed his classmates--he calls them, "my children."  Like he's Moses.  One afternoon, he waved as we left, calling, "Goodbye, my children."  I was waiting for them to reply, "Au revoir, mon pere."

Which brings me to this time last year.  We were in Guangzhou, and so happy to be there.  We had an enormous beautiful clean (oh, thank God, clean!) room overlooking the water, and serious bonding time was spent looking out the window together, counting boats.

We had a near-miss with medical supplies.  Before we left the US, a BlueSky nurse sent a list of ostomy supplies we'd need.  I took it to a medical supply store, & the rep didn't recognize half the items-lost in translation.  He decided I didn't need nearly as many catheters as I asked for, and that sterile gloves and swabs were pointless.  "It's only a clean procedure," he insisted.  He referred us to an ostomy therapist, who gave us a big bag of sample colostomy supplies. 

In China we realized how unprepared we were.  Conditions required a new catheter every time.  YoYo's urologist advised a catheter a day, already unusual compared to the average catheter a week for a urostomy-but there are reasons.  We had 30--we needed 80.  BlueSky graciously gave us what they could, but we were still short.  Then the weirdest thing happened.  One night in Beijing, we went for a walk, and three blocks from our hotel we passed...an OSTOMY SUPPLY STORE! Um, the odds.

So we wheeled YoYo in and pulled out our purse-sized case of supplies to show the good Mandarin-speaking-only folks what we needed.  Quantity and price were communicated via calculator.  Oh, did we feel like we'd pulled off the most savvy operation ever!  And then--they were out of the catheter that we needed.  THE ODDS, people!

Fast-forward to Guangzhou.  By then, we would have been out of catheters, but I had been boiling bottled water to rinse & reuse them (every 4 hours), so that we were getting a day out of each catheter. Even then, we'd be cutting it close.  We spent hours in Zhengzhou, then Guangzhou, trying to track down what we needed.  

I was so worn out.  The trauma a child goes through when he realizes that he has been separated from his family-his first family-and handed to strangers who speak gibberish defies comparison.  If that child is a toddler, there's another layer of complexity.  When that child is dependent on caths & colostomy pouches and a very clean environment, things start to feel life-or-death all the time.  Ride in a cab? Meal at a restaurant?  Shower at a hotel?  Life or death.   

Add the natural disaster, the frequent emails from my employer asking for this task or that information, some grief from our agency, and just the regular weariness from traveling on 4 flights through 3 provinces, and survival is a miracle.  Just when it looked like YoYo would develop a bladder infection from the handling he received at the Shamian Island clinic (on May 19, as a matter of fact), Paul Gour revealed (casually, over lunch at Lucy's) that he worked with medical supplies.

Of course he did.  And of course, he was willing, even though he and Chelsea had their own toddler-size bundle of terrified with her own set of medical stuff, to arrange for catheters to be FedEx'ed to us from the US if we needed them.  

Just the knowledge-that someone we hardly knew cared enough to risk that-was like a big cool drink of calm down.  Things were going to work out.  We'd cut it close, but we'd have enough.  And we were not alone. 

We still are not alone.  Mercy!  (I think I'll go recount my caths now, and maybe I'll use one as a straw, and make a necklace out of another, and weave some others into a placemat.  Ha!)

milestones

A year has officially passed now since Fu Tian You became our very own Tian Yo Caudill.  May 12, 2008, will be remembered by hundreds of thousands as the day of the Sichuan earthquake, but for us, it is the day we were born as a family!

Last week, our caseworker dropped by for one last post-placement interview.  Now the process is officially wrapped-if you don't count the readoption or the TN birth certificate paper chases!

Having a caseworker who last saw YoYo last summer gave me the chance to see him through a different lens.  And I am so thankful and proud of all he has done since coming to us!

The little prince knows his alphabet & phonetics,  and in the last month he's started sounding out words to guess how to spell them-on his own!  He's learning to dress himself, and he can hop, skip, & jump.  He loves LOVES to work and play outside.  He likes to paint and loves to watch things grow.  He also really likes to watch the birds at his bird feeder, and has declared his favorite is the chickadee.  He sings all the time, and he says he wants to play the violin (who knows how long that will last).

Two weeks ago, we watched a production of Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing" at Christ Presbyterian Academy.  During the 3+ hours, YoYo was riveted.  He watched the whole show, and asked so many questions.  There was a small instrumental ensemble which provided beautiful music for the production, and he was mesmerized by the instruments.  He asked about each change in mood or tone in the music, and he talked about when it sounded sad and when it sounded fast.  

He amazes me.  And he asks SO MANY questions.  I can't keep up-I have to admit, I get impatient sometimes, because I'm not quick-witted enough to make it easier on myself or to anticipate him.  He claims he wants to know.  Nana told him Saturday, "You have so many questions!"  His reply?  "I know-there are all these questions in my head at the same time, and I have to ask all of them.  And God will give me even MORE questions, Nana!"

He's turned us upside-down.  

And we couldn't be happier.  

Mother's Day (after)

So, by this time last year, I had my first Mother's Day-and so so many beautiful emails and prayers for a lovely one from friends!  That brings me to this-and I'm overdue, but I was without internet this weekend precisely because I was celebrating my (little) sister's first Mother's Day!

So, a belated Happy First Mother's Day to Andrea!  I imagined a lot of stuff when I was a kid (I hear that snicker), but I never seemed to imagine what it would be like for my sister and me to both be Moms!  And she is such a good Mommy-with a sweet sweet beauty of a blue-eyed girl. When I asked YoYo the other week if he'd like a little brother or sister (so maybe we're talking about another adoption-not that that's a surprise, right?), he said, "I have a sister."  I asked, "Who?" assuming he'd name Zhi Jing or another friend from BlueSky, or even one of his buddies' sisters.  He said, "Baby Reagan is my sister, silly Mama."  Oh yeah, pal, right where she's totally harmless-8 hours away!

And Happy Mother's Day to my favorite Moms-first to my Mom, whose mothering AND friendship I'm thankful for (and proud to lay claim to!), and to my Mother (in-law or outlaw?) Jane, Shane's Mom, who from the start loved me just as much and as closely as she does her two kiddos.  Who knew a Mother-in-law could do that?  

And to Shari, the coolest Mom, my sister (in-law/outlaw!), who is so so fun to hang out with and a trusted pray-er all in one gorgeous package.  I know she looks younger than I do, but yes, that high school girl is her daughter, thankyouverymuch.

And to Rinda Smith, Chelsea Gour, Phemie Tan, Lisa Florian, Katie Songer, Stephanie Garrett, Lisa Landers, Katy Parks, and Tricia Jones, I'm watching all y'all, and taking notes, because there's so very much to learn, and I know I'm surrounded by a cloud of witnesses-who better to learn from than women one admires!

And to Vickie Foltz, you amazing woman-this was the first Mother's Day since you left, and I'm learning that a Mother's teaching in the life of her children continues to unfold long after she leaves this earthly home.  Thank you dear friend for sharing your wisdom with so much vulnerability.  

Being Born

Remembering how we felt on our first day was refreshing, like a clear pool of cool water.  When I remember Day 2 in China, it feels a little more like the feelings I've had since.  That's when we saw YoYo's ostomies for the first time.  Watching his care routine, all the thoughts about one child's worth, about adopting a baby nobody else would want, and any place where I was tempted to think we were nice people for "doing this" (whatever that means) were entirely flushed from my head and replaced with, "What the HELL were we thinking?!?  We can't do this!  Who did we think we are to try to care for this little boy?"  

It reminds me of places in the Tanakh where a person emerges for just a second from the obscurity of time and their really great moment of faith or stupidity is noted forever.  A fellow teacher used to always remind me of a moment he thought I spoke in faith without fear, and the way he recounted it brought to mind that Biblical manner of storytelling.  It's probably more accurate (honest?) to assume that if I had one of those Tanakh stories, it would be the moment when the enormity of YoYo and his "stuff" loomed so large it cut the legs out from under any intentions of faith or love or noble deed that I might have cherished.  Chelsea Gour has been such an encourager in that respect, reminding me of the good and the room for hope-redemptive feelings.

I can't find how to write this next bit.  We're still afraid.  I'm still afraid, especially when I think about grade school and boys' bathrooms and locker rooms and all my stereotypes about boys and meanness.  Love of friends helps ease the way.  I hope I can get outside of my own head and be that friend to another.    

The photo?  It shows YoYo's response to our fear-and maybe it's prophetic.