ahna day revisited: part one

*I warn you: this may be long and boring. I tend to get stuck on details, but in remembering and recording this day, I don't want to leave even a tiny one out.


In the adoption community, the day that you receive your child is widely known as Gotcha Day!. To our family, the day that we got Ahna will always be affectionately named Ahna Day; or maybe Ahna Forever Day. Whatever the title that we decide to appoint to that momentous and extraordinary day in the life of our family, the memories are etched in my mind like an engraving.

July 21, 2008

Sixteen (or so) adults and almost as many children left our hotel in Beijing to embark upon the most long-awaited point in our journey. By the end of this leg of the trip, we would be sitting in a new city, in a new hotel, with the newest member of our family. Traveling by bus, plane, then bus again, we would go from our present location, some 800 miles, to the Civil Affairs Office in Nanchang, China. And within minutes of arriving there....

The day was proving itself to be as hot and humid as those had been before it. When our bus pulled out of the parking lot at 9:15 a.m., the temperature outside read 38 degrees Celcius. That's 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Earlier that morning, looking out our huge window from the 16th floor, we had surmised that this was the smoggiest day yet, since arriving in Beijing. The haze that floated in the air seemed even whiter than usual. And we were headed further south.

We positioned ourselves, Bill and I, near the back of the bus, so that we could sit near the children. Several of them had become fast friends, and loved inhabiting the very back row every time we boarded. We figured it was our turn to keep an eye on them.

The atmosphere inside that bus? I would call it electric: full of the hope and anticipation and the anxiety that almost 3 years of this adoption process had wrought. Could it all finally be culminating in this reunion with our daughters? As the bus traveled on to the airport, some couples sat quietly, seeming deep in their own thoughts. Others chatted away, visiting and laughing with each other. The children, giddy and rambunctious, went about their business as usual, seemingly unaware of the passage they were getting ready to make with their families.

I sat there trying to gather my thoughts, constantly counting bags and cameras to make sure something hadn't been left or misplaced. We had been told by Maggie the day before, that we would need the following items for this day: our Approval of Adoption letter; our Passports; our cameras; our tears. Check. The orphanage donation and gift-giving would take place when we returned to the Civil Affairs office the next day. Today, we would be given our babies and taken to the hotel. She made it all sound so simple.

I jotted down quick prayers in my journal as the bus moved on..."Praying for the transport of our children to the place that we will meet them: for health, safety in the vehicle, that they will be kept hydrated and nourished, that they will rest. Praying that the new sights and sounds they experience will not overwhelm them, but they that they will somehow even feel prepared for what this day will bring upon them." I felt a calm and peace amidst the thrill and anxiety of the day.

We arrived at the airport in Beijing and were greeted upon entrance, by a flock of security personnel with their search dogs. After the dogs had sniffed to their satisfaction, our checking-in process continued without a glitch. We proceeded to find our gate, then tried to get the boys a bite to eat before it was time to board the plane for Nanchang. TCBY. Kentucky Fried Chicken. We were moving fast, finding restrooms, trying to get back to that gate. The boys were hot and tired and argumentative. And maybe, so were the parents.

Snacks eaten and attitudes improved, we boarded the plane for Nanchang. It would be a 2 hour, 4 minute flight. It was just after 12 noon. I was pondering, trying to picture the meeting, seeing if my mind's eye could grasp what our reaction might be to our daughter. How will the boys do? How will Ahna respond to us? I had decided that she would either: 1. shut down and seem unemotional. 2. scream her head off (this would actually be a good thing). 3. be even-tempered, not freak out, and hopefully accept us a bit.

So, the plane flies on, and Part One comes to an end. I certainly planned to get more of this written, but life beckons: Ahna is awake, and a son has already called from school saying I need to bring him something. (the post-time is from last night, but I didn't quite finish until this morning.)

To be continued....