(One year ago this month, Pa and I made the trek to China to adopt our sweet Sister Susie. I am going to take the first seventeen days of February 2008 to revisit that trip. Hop in for the ride!)
The fourth and final day of taking the "IV Babies" for treatment at the orphanage clinic had come.
It was a mixed bag of emotions that day. Glad to be done with needles and screams; sad to bid farewell to a place and people we loved.
Below is one of the workers who became a friend to me, even though we spoke nary a word of the other one's language:
She was a happy sort of gal, always smiling, always pleasant.
(You know, kinda like me.)
(Hey! On my good days I can smile! And be fun!)
When it came time for the morning feeding at the orphanage, the IV Babies were brought food as well. This worker (pictured above) offered to feed our Suz, and even though Feeding Time Is Good Bonding Time, I couldn't say "no" to my friend.
The fourth and final day of taking the "IV Babies" for treatment at the orphanage clinic had come.
It was a mixed bag of emotions that day. Glad to be done with needles and screams; sad to bid farewell to a place and people we loved.
Below is one of the workers who became a friend to me, even though we spoke nary a word of the other one's language:
She was a happy sort of gal, always smiling, always pleasant.
(You know, kinda like me.)
(Hey! On my good days I can smile! And be fun!)
When it came time for the morning feeding at the orphanage, the IV Babies were brought food as well. This worker (pictured above) offered to feed our Suz, and even though Feeding Time Is Good Bonding Time, I couldn't say "no" to my friend.
I knew this was a "last rite." A "goodbye." An "I'll love you forever."
And before we packed up our bags to go, I stood with my mom-friend and told these folks, "thank you...thank you..."
(Well, mostly what I remember is my mom-friend doing the talking and *I* took care of the nodding and sniffling.)
Walking out the orphanage door that day was a painful, arduous journey. I felt like I was taking our Susie away from nearly everything she had known and loved. Her crib. Her routine. Her nannies. Smells, voices, and faces that meant goodness and comfort to her.
It felt like a kidnapping, it really did.
You know, had I not spent four mornings at the orphanage, I wouldn't have felt that way. But on that day, I wasn't taking Susie away from a "situation," I was taking her away from people. A whole group of people with real feelings and a strong attachment to my girl.
And that's what made it so hard.
I was barely holding it together at this point, when our small group decided to pose for "one last shot" outside the orphanage doors:
Saying "goodbye."
For good.
And I saw what it meant to love, and I saw what it meant to lose.
And I will never, ever forget that moment.
