Today is the day, one year ago, that we became Addison’s family. I’ve been recently reading back through my blog archives as a reminder of the smaller details of our trip and I realized I never wrote the story of this day.

Before we even left for Vietnam, I had a cold. The long trip and dry air made me really sick and by the time the day of our G&R rolled around, I was sure my cold would ruin our special day. But I think adrenaline saved the day. We got up early, packed for the long day, gathered our orphanage donations and gifts and waited for our agency to pick us up in the van that would carry us far out into the province of Phu Tho to the orphanage that held my daughter for six long months.

I remember that on the way to her orphanage, I didn’t feel excited but I was pretty nervous. I just felt drained and raw. My throat was killing me, every inhale of the burning diesel vapors from the van and the other nearby cars just burned through my throat. I felt like sleeping but instead I sat, numb, wishing I felt better, worried about what we would find when we got to the orphanage. I had all these fears during my adoption wait and I had at least a few really negative things happen with my agency that made the entire experience up until that point extremely negative. In that moment I remember thinking that I just wanted the adoption process to be over and I was never going to do it again. But I also had fears - namely that my baby would not know how to smile or laugh, would be emotionally withdrawn and perhaps would have medical issues that we were not made aware of. Of course these fears masked my real hopes and dreams that I dared not consider: that she would be happy, well-cared-for and extremely healthy. I had had such a hard time with things and nothing was easy, smooth, as anticipated or promised. It was a fight the entire way and so honestly I never had high hopes or expectations for our first meeting.

Once we were in Viet Tri we were stopped in a traffic jam while cars halted to allow an amazing parade of children to make their way down the road. I have no idea what they were celebrating but they were clearly celebrating complete with music and costumes. They were just as happy to see us as we were to them - it probably wasn’t every day that a van full of Caucasians ramble through town. I wish I would have taken pictures.

I remember pulling into the orphanage and feeling in total denial. The closer we came to meeting our baby, the more unwilling I was to emotionally submit to the experience. I remember standing in the open courtyard scanning all the doorways for our baby, hoping I would see her being held by her nanny. I didn’t see a thing. Instead we were escorted up to the orphanage director’s office for tea.

Man, that tea was the best thing I’ve ever tasted. It felt so good on my burning throat, I think I might have had some of Noah’s tea too! Our agency worker asked if we had any questions for the director and I was so stunned, I could think of nothing at all. Honestly in that moment I remember thinking to myself “What in the world would we ask her?”. Of course now I could write a book of questions I wish I had thought to ask her. I was not prepared for this at all. Soon I sent Tony and one of our agency workers away to the van to bring in our donations.

Of course shortly after they left, very suddenly and without warning, a nanny walked in with Addison in her arms wearing her orphanage rags and just one gigantic sock! You know how sometimes there is a moment in time when time literally freezes? When everything about that moment is forever captured safely in your mind - the smell, the sight, the way you felt in your head, your heart, your stomach - everything? Time stood still when Addison was carried into the room.

 I stood up and walked over to her and I remember thinking that it sucked that Tony was missing this and that no one could take pictures. I looked at my baby girl, trying to search her face for the girl who was so familiar to me in photos, and realized that no photo in the world can adequately prepare you for the first time you lay eyes - and then hands - on your child. She searched my face with these eyes that seemed to be reaching desperately for something that she knew she needed. Reaching. Reaching. Then, she smiled.  And I rewarded her by bursting into tears. Every hardship, stress, anxiety, heartbreak and crisis we had endured to bring us to that point and every fear I carried into that room were melted away with that smile. I am convinced that it was in that nanosecond that Addison and I became a family. She was searching for someone to love her and I was searching for someone to love and when our eyes searched each other out, we realized we finally found each other. It was in that minute that I realized the Red Thread theory made so much sense.

Thankfully right at this moment, our agency worked picked up our camera and started shooting and Tony walked in. I passed the baby to him. I love Tony every day, through good and bad times. But there are two times in our marriage that I recall loving him incomprehensibly - the kind of love that makes you cry when you just think about it, even years later. The first was when he first held our son, sitting by my side in the birth pool and the second was when he first held our daughter, standing by my side a half a world away in Vietnam. I feel so fortunate that I have pictures that encapsulate these two experiences and they are, by far, my most treasured photos.

Addison loved Tony so deeply from the minute she laid eyes on him. She reached up and rubbed his beard, smiled, touched his face, his eyes - never taking her eyes off his. He held her up and she giggled. It is likely it was the first laugh she had ever made in her entire life. It may as well been the first laugh I had ever heard in my entire life. Of course it made me cry even more.

We called our boys over, then, and encouraged them to love on their new sister, hold her, kiss her and talk to her. She smiled, of course, loved them all, reached out to them, stuck her little tongue out at them. It was a beautiful, beautiful family moment. No matter how difficult & expensive it was to take all three boys to Vietnam with us, it was beyond worth it to have them present for the union of our family. I wouldn’t trade that memory for anything.

Eventually we convinced the boys to take a bag of candy we brought and pass it around to the school children who kept poking their heads in with curiosity. It was such fun to share some treats and the school kids got such a kick out of us Americans.

Eventually we wandered out to check on the boys and made our way down to the two rooms of the orphanage where Addison had spent her life.

It was such a strange thing - after the initial emotionality of the union passed, Addison was just my daughter. She may as well have been born from my body six months ago because she felt like she had always been with me. I had expected to look at her like a stranger, like someone else’s child. I know this is normal and ok. But she was my baby and we, as a family, were touring a Vietnamese orphanage while she laid in my arms. It was so natural. We walked from room to room and eventually she fell asleep in my arms, looking into my eyes, sucking her tiny thumb….something she would go on to repeat many times a day with her Daddy and I and still does even now for every nap and bedtime.

The orphanage was filled to capacity, and then some. There were over 50 babies present and not that many nannies. It was clear that the nannies loved the babies but had little to no resources with which to properly care for them. The babies were lucky to get enough food.

Actual physical activity, much less bonding, was not going to happen. When I first held Addison, I was surprised at her lack of muscle tone. She seemed much more like a 2-3 month old baby than a 6 month old baby. She couldn’t completely hold up her head, she could bear no weight on her legs, she definitely was not straining to sit up, even with support. She had spent all of her life living on a wooden palate with probably at least 5 other babies. There were 6 of these palates along with a few bassinets and cradles for the tiniest of babies in Addison’s room and the room next door had several more pallets. Oddly it never occurred to me to be sad or feel overwhelmed by what I saw. Noah came up to me at one point and said “Can we take one home?” and I said “We are taking Addison home” and he said “No, I mean another. Can we take another baby home too?” He was clearly moved by the experience. I have tried to understand why I was not more touched and I can’t come up with any real good explanation. I think I was so alienated by the process, at having been so misled about what to expect at the orphanage, at that point, that I was just numb. I really don’t know. There was also a big piece of me that felt a weird denial about it. Having never seen it, I couldn’t picture MY baby - the one who now felt like she had been born from my body and been with me for six months - laying on a pallet next to all those babies, crying, yearning, needing, wanting. The nannies never asked to hold her and did not show any emotion over her leaving at all - it was like they did not even know her - like she was just one of our 4 kids touring through Vietnam. Addison did not react to the Nannies or the environment at all. She just hung out and then eventually fell asleep.

I took lots of baby pictures but quickly moved on to other areas of the school. My boys went out to play with school kids and we all eventually ended up in an empty classroom with a few school children who were eager to practice their English. I absolutely fell in love with them. As devoid of feeling as I found the orphanage, I was filled with love and awe and excitement in the classroom with those kids - most of whom were deaf, some with other disabilities as well. They were amazing at communicating across the language barrier and loved my kids. I would go back there and work in a heartbeat.

Soon it was time to leave and my agency worker informed me that we were being granted permission to take the baby with us. We had our G&R appointment later that day so we were going to lunch and then heading on over to the appointment. It is funny because I remember being stunned. It had never occurred to me that they would take her back. Of course I knew, legally, she was not my daughter until the G&R and I knew that typically the orphanage director or nanny escorts the child to the G&R. But really we were such an instant family that it seemed as foreign to me that they might take her as it would have seemed if they had told me they would take any of my boys. I was really relieved because she was passed out cold in my arms and I couldn’t imagine passing her off to these overworked completely overwhelmed nannies instead of staying in my arms for the rest of the afternoon.

So off we went to this tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Viet Tri where we had chicken. Viet Tri, as it turns out, is known for their chicken. We parked our van next to, well, a chicken coop. It was actually a chain-link dog run with a dog and a few chickens. I remember thinking “well, there’s lunch” and in we went. It was a really fun experience, definitely the most (and probably only) truly authentic Vietnamese thing we did the entire trip. The food was totally weird but wonderful. Sometime during this meal, Addison woke up and I got to give her her first bottle. This was also the first bottle I had ever fed any child of mine. We survived, obviously But I was really nervous.

Shortly thereafter I took her into a nearby room to change her diaper and her clothes for her G&R. I was secretly so happy that I would get to keep her orphanage clothes. Probably if they had kept her and delivered her to the G&R, I would have left her G&R outfit and never had anything to carry home from her life in the orphanage. So I changed her into her fancy party dress all alone by myself in the back of this restaurant and I remember thinking “I have a daughter. I am putting a dress on my child. I am changing a girls’ diaper (also a first!). This is my girl!” It was so surreal to me. I’m glad I got the privilege of that honor and didn’t have to hand off her outfit to the nannies. It felt like a sort of unveiling to me. Their girl becomes my girl. And so it began - the beginning of a million dresses and bows.

And off we went. The G&R was in a government office building. It was sooooo slow to start. There was a moment of panic when we realized that my darling husband forgot a very crucial bit of information back at the hotel. The problem was remedied and there was more waiting. Finally we began. A few minutes into it, the official overseeing the meeting actually stopped the meeting to answer his cell phone and proceeded to take his call! I was floored. It wasn’t exactly the special meaningful adoption ceremony one might expect.

We had to sign a book officializing our adoption and then the families were asked to speak. Tony stood and spoke, he was so nervous! He did a good job with little prep time. I think I might have told him he’d have to speak on the way to the ceremony! Poor guy.

Then it was time for the orphanage directors to speak. The director from a different orphanage stood and gave a short speech and then when it was our director’s turn she literally said “Yeah, what he said” and didn’t stand or acknowledge anyone or anything. I was really insulted! At that point I just wanted to get out of there. The kids had had enough, it was so hot, it was extremely boring and I was eager to get back to Hanoi.

Finally we headed back to our hotel, Addison slept the entire way in our arms. The long journey gave me pause to reflect on all that Addison was leaving behind and it would not be the first time. I’m not talking about the orphanage but the province itself. It is so beautiful, the people are so kind and hard working and beautiful. Yes, poor by American standards, but wealthy in spirit and infinitely happier than many of the “wealthy” Americans I know. I finally took some photos although they were blurry, just to try to capture in my mind so I could relay to her later the beauty that is Phu Tho.  We made a pit-stop for some formula and diapers and headed back to the hotel where our new family of six settled in for a lifetime together

We pulled out the most amazing fancy birthday cake to celebrate Dalton’s 12th birthday and even had friends over to help us celebrate. Just family business as usual!

Our story isn’t typical, it isn’t a story that educated adoptive parents would ever expect or presume would be the case. Adoptive love typically happens over time. I won’t say that Addison was fully bonded with us that day we met. Of course she wasn’t. But she was instantly our daughter, my love for her was never, not even for an instant, different than my love for my boys. I was instantly bonded to her. And I think she recognized that and it enabled her to reach out and trust, searching in us for what she needed. As awful as our adoption experience was up until that point, the minute we met Addison it was smooth sailing. We were a family.

I have a lot more to say about what I’ve learned in retrospect, some of the awful things I’ve learned about the orphanage & director since then, some of the realizations I made about Addison and the care she received (or didn’t receive) that led to the way things all worked out. But today is her Family Day and I don’t want to liter it with negativity, even though it is all part of her story. Today I’m focusing on the part of her story that is us, not what came before us. Today is our day. How was there life before Addison? I just can’t imagine it now.

Happy First Family Day, baby girl!!!!!!!!

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 1st, 2007 at 12:01 am and is filed under Adoption, Photos & Videos. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.