Eli's World

Grass:  Not So Bad

I'm not going anywhere. The pace of these posts may slow down a bit now we are home and myriad projects and jobs and demands suck up my time. But I'll try to keep to a minimum of two of these a week for the foreseeable future.

I'm going to take a stab at describing Eli's personality. Many people have expressed surprise and even skepticism at all the pictures and descriptions of him as a happy, well-adjusted, dynamic kid with seemingly few issues resulting from his time in an institution. The truth is that while he really is quite happy to be with us, and tremendously affectionate and curious and mischievous and etc., of course he has typical two-year-old tantrums and gets angry and frustrated with us as well. I don't dwell on those things too much on this site, maybe because in the back of my mind I'm always wondering what he would think of these posts if he were able to read them. Which, in all likelihood, he will someday be. I'm not trying to sugarcoat the adoption experience, but I'm also sensitive to Eli's basic right to privacy, and to make his own decisions about what to share and what not to share.

The Good Land

There Will Be Cucumbers

Those of you who know us, might once or twice (or a hundred times) have heard us extol the virtues of Vermont. We try to keep it somewhat low-key, because we can imagine how terribly depressing it must be for all of you that God loves Vermont so much more than He loves wherever it is that you live. But sometimes it's difficult to hold back.


We are home now, the mountains are still green, the air is fresh and in the upper 70's, our garden is overflowing, and our beautiful neighbors have left things like coq au vin, anitpasto platters and fresh apple crisp waiting for us in our kitchen. Our cat still loves us.

And Eli likes it here very, very much.  Although the cat kind of freaks him out. 

Forever Friday

Yesterday lasted 36 hours.  Apparently even that wasn't enough to get us home. 

We left Hong Kong a bit late, but still comfortably within target range, perhaps 40 minutes late.  The flight was 12 hours, 10 minutes.  Suffice it to say that Eli does not understand airplanes.  He doesn't like books or movies, and he does like running around and getting into things and throwing them around.  He slept for all of 3 hours on the flight, so Allison and I had our hands full. 

We landed in San Francisco 2 hours before we left Hong Kong.  This time warp was about to become the least strange thing about our day.

Things I Love About China

Specifically, Guangzhou.

1.  Riverboat Cruise Clowns.  I mean, who doesn't love them?

2.  Secret Sites.  Guangzhou is literally the best kept secret in China travel.  It's got everything, and no one knows it.  From millenia-old unearthed tombs to caves to more parks per capita than just about any Chinese city, to waterparks to Buddhist temples to old growth banyan groves to mountains, to Sun Yat-sen memorials, to folk art museums to paintball battlegrounds.  It also has the best food in all of China, hands down.  It even looks eerily like Vermont if you manage to get anywhere outside the city.  You can have Beijing and Shanghai, give me Guangzhou any day.    

3.  Shamian Island.  Hey, I don't like living there, but it's great place to spend a few hours knocking around.

All Right, All Right

My post yesterday generated some responses, both in the comments and outside of them. Sandra pointed out, rightly, that others have different experiences in China than we've had. Allison pointed out that my issues derive more from the adoption process than from the particular location we're in -- that is to say, wherever we might have planted ourselves in Guangzhou in August, we'd still have to deal with a busy slate of bureaucratic appointments, a new two-year-old, and blazing heat and humidity. None of those are particularly conducive to a cultural travel bonanza.

Someone else pointed out that maybe I should just get over myself already and tone down the whining about how my trip to China isn't perfect, since a lot of readers won't ever come here at all. Fair point.

I can't change the fact that I've been to China a lot and that I'm not over fond of this particular speck-part of it. That's just the way it is, and hey, after all, you're here reading my blog, not the other way round, so the author gets some perks. Indulging himself is one of them.

But in deference to the brighter side of things, and in deference especially to my wife, who really wishes I would just smile a lot more and cut everything some slack, tomorrow's post will be all sweetness and light, raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, laughter and pixie dust and long walks on the beach. Gosh, it'll be grand.

Tune in then for the surefire hit All My Favorite Things About China (The Extended "This Trip Especially" Remix). I guarantee you'll be walking lighter, tapping your toes, turning your frown upside-down, and applying some fresh elbow grease to life's little snags.

Really. For realz.

By the way, we leave for Hong Kong tomorrow too. Two more days and we'll be home in Vermont! Much as I truly do love China, I love Vermont even more. Can't wait to be back. We had our "swearing in" ceremony at the U.S. Consulate today with dozens of other new adoptive families, a kind of pro forma affair where they tell you that you'll get your child's visa tomorrow and you have to raise your right hand and swear that everything you've ever said to anybody was the truth, and everyone applauds because they're so anxious to get out of here and go home.

Good times.

Fortress of Solitude

Every adoption completed in China evenutally comes through Guangzhou. The U.S. Consulate here is responsible for overseeing visa and naturalization paperwork for adotpions from China, so all adoptive families must petition the Consulate, in person, for the magic visa that allows them to take their children home and make them U.S. citizens.

The vast majority of U.S. parents who come to Guangzhou to adopt stay at the White Swan Hotel on Shamian Island. While the island is a tourist destination in its own right, and the hotel is a well-known 5-star establishment, it's no understatement to say that a large fraction of the revenue of both depends on international adoptions, and specifically American adoptions. The place has been engineered to cater to the needs of new, nervous, harried U.S. parents; to provide them a safe haven, a Western oasis in the chaos of China that they need not leave and that will provide for their every need. All over the island, the buildings themselves date back to a colonial period when the Americans, British and French sought mastery over Chinese commerce -- so even architecturally speaking, the island is more Europe than China. Automobile traffic is limited, and the broad pedestrian walkways are beautifully crafted with cobblestones and flower beds and bronze statuary. The restaurants are high quality and all have English-speaking staff and high chairs and children-sized utensils. The stores sell diapers and formula and baby food and darling outfits for small people. The play room at the White Swan alone is worth its weight in gold -- you wouldn't find anything else like it at any other hotel in Guangzhou.

In short, Shamian and the White Swan provide a buffer against the stresses of travel in China, a kind of blessed home retreat you can rely on for Western creature comforts, and that you will only have to depart sporadically and then always in the company of an English-speaking guide and a personal driver, in air-conditioned style.

I kind of hate it.

Pix & Pricks

The now obligatory "happy with food" shot of the day

No, that's not the name of my new adult bookstore. Sickos.

Yesterday was Eli's medical exam and vaccinations. We spent a surreal hour and a half or so at a hot, cafeteria-style medical clinic positively overrun by adoptive families and their children. We entered the clininc and promptly sat down on some metal benches to wait for our guide to check us in. Ten minutes or so later, we got up and moved 15 feet into the waiting room proper, a big square joint with chairs around the outside edges and a Pixar movie playing on a big flat-screen plasma television. With no sound. And Chinese subtitles. I should note that this is a Chinese medical clinic, with all Chinese staff, nurses, and doctors. We got there early, first thing in the morning, so were moving pretty quickly. We had to hit four stations, and have Eli signed off at each one of them.

Evolution

First Peanut Butter

Bear with me a bit.  I’m going to digress, but I’ll bring it back around to this cute little picture on the right.
 
You would think that humans would possess every possible evolutionary advantage over viruses.  We are complex organisms comprised of trillions of cells that specialize in myriad different functions.  We have ridiculously sophisticated systems dedicated to the defense against, and destruction of, foreign entities that find their way into us.  As if that’s not enough, our higher brain function allows us to go further, inventing artificial preventative and palliative measures that significantly augment our natural defenses.


Yet a virus, which in many ways isn’t even technically alive, can still tear us apart with ease.  It’s the old “Fox and Hedgehog” metaphor.  We humans are the foxes – cunning, complicated, innovative, versatile.  The virus is the hedgehog – it’s found one thing that it does extremely well, and sticks to that one thing with ruthless, mindless, endless efficiency.  That one thing?  Invading our bodies and using them to reproduce itself.  Any symptoms we develop are purely incidental to that process, except insofar as they help the virus to replicate itself or transmit itself to new hosts.

So if you’re wondering why I haven’t posted for the last couple of days, it’s simply because a virus was busy using my body to do what it does best, despite all the medicines I could throw at it.  Still is, actually.  I could barely sit up yesterday, and couldn’t muster the energy to write something down.  I couldn’t stand to look at Eli when he was enjoying this peanut butter – I couldn’t even stand to hear the words “peanut butter” mentioned in my presence.  I was completely wiped out, incapacitated, pathetic.  Today I’m back about forty percent, though it ebbs and flows. 

This is not how I envisioned spending my time here.  I know it’s not how Allison envisioned spending her time here.  She’s exhausted too, from wrangling all three kids the last three days and carrying Eli everywhere and still finding opportunities to buy me ginger ale and water.
Luckily, things have a way of going well without me. 

Stricken

Bad virus. Only me so far. Back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.

Day One

Shrewd.  Cautious.  Happy.  Mischievous.  Surprising.  Quiet but warming up.  Undernourished.

These are a few of the words that come to mind about this peanut kid.  For the first twenty-four hours he barely uttered a sound.  But he drank in everything around him with a keen and penetrating gaze.  Finally, after a full day of assessment and contemplation, he is all smiles and babbling here and there, and playing clever tricks on his brother and sister, and deducing how his food containers can be opened, etc. 

He has yet to shed a tear.  Our assumption is that he learned early on that crying burns energy and wouldn’t get him what he wants anyway, so he just wouldn’t.   As a consequence he always seems content and resilient – even when he falls or is nervous or scared.  He’s also extremely curious and responsive, especially now that the first day is out of the way. 

He is scrawny.  At 31 months, he weighs 23 pounds (average for this age is 31 pounds).  His ribs show, and his arms and legs are thin and weak.  His age-appropriate clothes hang loosely off him.  His head seems ridiculously large for his body.  He walks well, but not with great steadiness. 

He eats everything we give him.  If we let him, he would never stop eating.  Already today we jettisoned our plan to ease him into a richer diet slowly, and have been feeding him chicken and curry and eggs and greens and fruit and snacks and even a couple bites of ice cream.  He shows no signs of having a limit and it all seems to be for the good.

Click on the link to turn back the clock to yesterday…

Bliss

This will be a cursory post with the promise of more tomorrow.  It's been an exhausting day for everyone.  But wonderful as Eli -- Lei Xin Xing -- Xingxing -- call him what you will, he's ours. 

And he's a champion.  He climbed in Allison's lap right from the start, weathered without difficulty the bedlam of a dozen simultaneous "gotcha" moments with about 100 people in the same room, and has been steadily growing more confident since.  He loves his toys, he loves his brother and sister, he smiles and laughs, he's curious and interactive as all get out.  It will be a challenge to get him to understand he can be more independent now that he's not tied to the regimen of an institution, but that will come in time. 

It is, without hyperbole, a miracle.  This morning we had two kids.  Tonight we have three. 

Without further ado, three brief photos as a downpayment on more tomorrow.

Our first glimpse of him

Chill.  I got this.

Nirvana

A Prayer for My Son

We will meet Lei XinXing in 16 hours.  I wrote a prayer for him today, so he would know what I hope for him.  I wrote it for myself too, so I would be clear about my thoughts and emotions heading into that moment tomorrow, and would be able to maintain the proper frame of spirit.

Allison and I debated whether to post this here on the blog -- whether it was too personal, or meant only for Eli.  But if this writing exercise is supposed to be a true record of this time in our lives, and of how we feel and are, then sharing this is necessary also.  It's only fitting that our friends and family join us in these hopes, and add their own as well.

A Prayer for My Son

May you remember those who gave you life.   May they shine through you as through a prism, their light vividly scattered in a gesture here, a feature there, an expression, this longing, that undercurrent of feeling, an instinct, an aptitude inborn.  May you cherish these telltale reverberations, treasure them as gifts that tie you forever to your birth parents, across space and time and beyond all memory.

May you make peace with not knowing them.  May you have compassion and understanding for their gift of you to the world.  May what you carry with you of them be sufficient to your needs.  May you find your way to being whole in their absence, sure in the knowledge of yourself and your place in the universe; or if you cannot, may you find it in yourself to forgive them, and us, for what is lost.

May you feel our love.  May it surround you and embrace you, lift you up and hold you to the light, give you respite and refuge, guide you and assuage you.  May it graft you, root and branch, into the living heart of our family.  May you always be certain of it.  May it sustain you, and provide an eternal home for your spirit. 

May you grow strong.  May you drink deeply of the air, the earth, the rain, the sun, and the magic that moves in all things.  May they knit your bones and sinews, calibrate your features, charge your limbs with valor.  May your eyes grow sharp and your ears keen, your mind deft, your fingers quick and able.  May the strength of your body be exceeded only by the strength of your character.  

May you know joy.  May you believe in love, believe in loveliness, believe in belief.  May wonder drive you.  May wisdom stay you from recklessness, and provide a last, best defense against sorrow.  May you learn what is right, and have the courage to follow it.  May your friends be true.    

   

May we, in our turn, have the wisdom to have you without possessing you; to act without expectations; to lead you without controlling you.  May we be a steady bow, from which the Archer may shoot your living arrow.  May Her aim be true, and may you travel swiftly and far as you fly.   

May we bless you and keep you, be gracious to you, and give you peace.

Amen