HOME

I am lying here in my own bed, in my own home, there is a foot of new snow on the ground that fell last night, the morning light is filtering soft gold through my curtains, and my daughter is sleeping right next to me.

Her hair is damp and her face is flushed – I think the nightgown I put on her is a little too warm - but her breathing is peaceful and even, and when she woke up last night (at, er, midnight – we have been up for hours) she gave me a beaming smile, patted my face, and then crawled over and tweaked her baba’s nose.

The trip home started out a little less than ideally. We had a very early flight out of Guangzhou. We needed to leave the White Swan by 5:30 a.m. (which meant a 4:30 wake up call. Ugh) and for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, we didn’t have the transportation we had arranged with the hotel the night before, plus we didn’t have our guide to help us fix things. So we, along with little Mia’s family, ended up scrambling around – finally hiring a van and a taxi to take us (and our mountain of luggage) to the airport. Luckily, our van and taxi drivers were speed demons, and we made it to the airport in plenty of time. The rest of the journey home was incredibly wearisome, but uneventful. We traveled out of Guangzhou to Hong Kong, where we switched planes. Then we had a long slog of a fifteen hour flight back to Newark. We were lucky and were assigned bulkhead seats (ask for them, my soon to be traveling friends! They were invaluable!) and so we were able to make a little makeshift playpen at our feet by piling up our carry-on bags (once the plane had taken off) on either side and filling the space in between with toys and drifting cheerios. Because this girl? She does not like to be restrained in any way – and fifteen hours on our laps might have been crazy making (we did buy a seat for her- but that was a total waste because we were traveling with four, and apparently our seats weren’t reserved - so we were basically given three seats together and a fourth seat three rows back in the middle. Grrrr. Total waste). Fang Fang did really well – slept for about six hours at first, and then woke up and was generally cheerful and happy to hang out in our little play space – but the last twenty minutes, when we descended into Newark, were terrible. I think her ears really hurt, and she wouldn’t take a bottle (and all the people surrounding me who were giving me well meaning advice like, “She needs to suck on something!” did not help) and she screamed inconsolably. Poor little bunny. Anyway – after that was the 1 and a half car ride home – which she actually did very well with. I thought she would hate the car seat – but actually, she seemed to enjoy the view, and as long as I handed her either food or toys, she was content to be strapped in.

Before I write about her actual homecoming, I want to touch on our American consulate appointment the day before. We were all herded into a big room (which reminded me of nothing so much as it reminded me of a bank. Or maybe a post office.) and a young, earnest, I think maybe lonely, Midwestern American man got up and started what honestly sounded like a supper club comedy routine along the lines of, “How many of you folks are from Missouri today? No Missourians? How about the Midwest? Yes, raise your hands folks!” etc etc. It was a little strange. There were about fifty families in that room, all with their new babies in hand and their coveted paperwork (don’t open or break the seal!) in hand and we all patiently listened to his strange little monologue while dandling our babies on our knees. Eventually he stopped monologuing and got to the point – we all stood and raised our right hand and swore that all the information we had provided was true and factual (somehow in my mind I had thought that this was the point where we would be taking an oath of loyalty to the USA for our children – but it was nothing of the sort, and actually we never did any such thing) and then he said, “Okay – your work here is done!” and we all applauded and some people got a little teary – but I have to say that moment actually came for me later – after we finally made it through Newark customs – when I was holding this exhausted bundle of child and we were pushing our mountain of bags and I was so tired I could hardly see straight – and they broke the seal on the envelope, and then waved us through. Then I got tears in my eyes. Then I felt like the whole process was over.

The first thing that greeted us when we finally arrived at the house was our cat Fluffy. The aunties were off grocery shopping and all our luggage was piled in the driveway (we took a car service home) and our cat popped out of the garage window and came running toward us at full speed. (I think he thinks he’s a dog with all a dog’s attendant duties). Bell, who loved to look at his mao picture in the photo book we sent her at the orphanage- absolutely froze in my arms. They had told me that she had never seen a live animal before, and I think she was totally flabbergasted to see this rolling (he rolls on his back when he sees us) fluffy, weird looking thing meowing up at us. We knelt down, and he jumped into my lap, and started to lick Fang Fang’s hand and she jerked it away like he had sunk his teeth into her finger. But she didn’t cry. Nor did she cry when she saw the big, friendly Rottweiler who came wagging out of the house, or the two other cats, or even, ten minutes later, her two completely beaming aunties (who did an amazing job of greeting Spike first and fawning over him before they even got to Fang Fang). She just clung to her mama like the water was rising around us – but she didn’t completely shut down or freak out – and actually, within fifteen or twenty minutes, she had worked up her courage to run her hand over the cat (and would graduate to shoving them away if they got too close later) had briefly been held by both aunties, and a couple hours later she was basking in auntie attention and laughing and smiling (but still wanting Mama to hold her) and throwing cheerios at the dog who was so funny because she eats everything you throw at her, Mom!

We showed her her room (she loves her baby dolls! She totally sat down and poured over each other their faces – poking eyes and nose and mouth over and over with her little fingers) and Spike’s room, and before I knew it she was cruising through the house like she owns the place (which, let’s face it, she does) insisting that someone hold her hand so she could climb the stairs one more time. Oh Lordisa – I forgot how babies love stairs. And repetition. And repetition. And repetition. I really never should have bought that elliptical machine because keeping up with this child will be work out enough for certain. She was quite taken with the woodstove and the roaring fire within – but after a sharp “Yao bu yao! Bu! From me (and I know that means more like “I don’t want that! No!” than “don’t touch” but it seemed to do the trick. Or maybe she just froze in place because she was pondering what the hell her mother was trying to tell her about the blue chicken and the price of grain…) she stopped trying to put her hand on it.

 

The aunties cleaned the house from top to bottom (and I will be forever grateful for this kindness) and made us delicious sandwiches, and doted on their niece and nephew and did the dishes after we all fell asleep at various points in the evening (Bell fell asleep so quietly in my arms while I was talking to my dad on the phone that I didn’t even realize it for a good ten minutes or so). There was a small pile of presents waiting for us on the dining room table – treasures for Bell and Spike and even me (late birthday present from Singing Bird) and it was like a tiny xmas as Bell held on to her new spinning light up princess wand (thanks Auntie Mary!) and I admired my new earrings, and Spike tore through paper to get at his new science experiment. Later we unpacked some of the piles of things we brought home from China and I gave the aunties their gifts – which was satisfying and fun (and there will be gifts going out to all sorts of people over the next couple of weeks. We did some extremely fun last minute shopping on Shamian Island). Then Bell and I went to sleep at 8, and Ryan and Spike made it through to 10:30, and then Bell got back up at midnight – and so did I. And Spike was up by 2 in the morning, (just when the aunties were going to bed, actually) and then Ryan got up around 4:30 or 5 – we spent the day sorting through stuff - Ryan cleaned off her little wooden oven (used to be Spike’s and I was using it to store cookbook overflow) in the kitchen,  and Spike chatting on the phone to his best friends- so happy to be able to tell them about China (or maybe describe what great levels he conquered in video games. Sigh), and feeding the kids (Bell finally got a chance to sit in a highchair and make as much of a mess as she liked double fisting her spoons and dipping into her food with her hands and face. Hooray for no longer being in a hotel where some level of appropriate manners are expected!) and traveling to the grocery store (she hates the car seat now. Sigh. And she was totally awed by the store – just sort of wide eyed and silent as I pushed her around in the grocery cart – like, look at all this food!) and napping on and off, and now, as I write this (a day or so has passed since I started) it is 8:30 at night and everyone, including the aunties who are dozing in the living room in front of the Yao bu yao! Fire – are fast asleep again. We’ll see if we have a repeat performance of the midnight awakening tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, jet lag is a bit of a bitch.

I had a moment of clarity in the midst of the muddle headed toddler mama jet lagged brain sizzle I’ve been in since we arrived home, when, after the umpteenth million time helping Bell climb the stairs (build those little leg muscles, child!) we went into her little room, and she squatted down on the floor to play with some blocks, and I sat down next to her, and I realized that I was sitting in the same spot I had sat so many nights in a row – thinking on this elusive daughter of mine who was across the world from me, trying desperately to connect with this little being through the room I had made for her, filled with longing, and wondering what she was doing, what she was like, what she smelled like, if she was okay – and then all of the sudden – here she was! Right in front of me! In the room! Stacking blocks! It practically made me swoon. Because of course, it was all better than I had ever even imagined. She was more lovely, more loving, more my daughter than I ever knew she could be. She was more real in all her demands to climb the stairs one more time – in her dislike of apple sauce – in her hilarity at throwing food at the dog, in her fierce little fit of anger at being strapped into the car seat, filling out the little clothes I had carefully chosen and hung up for her while I was waiting to hold in her in my arms. All the things that have been waiting for her – suddenly brought to life by her tiny body and huge and overwhelming spirit. The house has changed. Our lives have changed. She is finally here.