Worry

A parent’s job.
To worry.
The past week has been consumed with worry. Of things real and imagined. The worried has created doubt. Am I prepared? Am I ready? Really and truly am I ready?
I am afraid.
Of the worry.
Of the reality.
The reality of having a child and worrying. Constant in the background of everyday life. Along with the laughter, the excitement, the joy, this will be the reality for ever now.
The worry.
And there is so much to worry about. Nobody tells you to imagine the worry. How would you to that anyway?

Is she ok?
Is she on track?
Is she growing?
Is she eating enough?
Is she happy?
Does she hate us yet?
Does she have enough toys?
Are they the right toys?
Does she have friends?
Are they the right friends?
Who exactly are the "right" friends?
Is she doing her homework?
Is she keeping up at school?
Does she hate us yet?
Is she wearing too much pink?

So, while I should be excited, I am concerned. Where there should be a smile, there is a frown, a furrowed brow, a knot in my stomach.

I am worrying.

As husband-san says, “Welcome to parenthood”.

You Learn Something New Every Day

Tick, tick, tick........

....the clock ticks behind me, reminding me I am waiting. Waiting for the travel authorization that the Chinese government sends giving us permission to come and get our daughter; waiting for the US consulate appointment, which we need before we make any travel plans; waiting to get on that plane that will take us to Feng Feng. Mondays are always quiet and the worst day, as it is still Sunday in the U.S. The silence is gigantic. It envelopes me like a giant balloon with only the tick, tick, tick for company. And it gets worse with each passing day with no word.

While I wait, I stare. I stare at her picture trying to divine some insight into what is going on in her little mind. As the waiting continues, so do the questions, with no end in sight. So does the worry. I suppose this will be in my life for a long time now. The waiting…waiting for her…waiting for the first smile….waiting for her first word in English….waiting for the first hug - The questions.....is she all right.......is she happy......will everything be ok? The worry.............was she in the orphanage too long? was she fed enough?

Husband-san has made it not so bad though. Pure of heart, clear in intent, calm in resolve, strong in faith - all at a time with so much uncertainty about this little person joining our family. All at a time that I need it, because without it, and him, I would be falling apart. But I'm not. Because of him. Have I told you how much I love my husband-san???

Who dressed our Child???

No wonder she isn't smiling - who would dressed like that??!!?? Can we say "fashion emergency??"

A few words about our daughter from the update we just received:

She will go over when she sees something eatable, and hold out her hands to ask for.

She can grab toys from others, and move small stools.

She sometimes acts like a spoiled child.

She likes to dance with her little friends.

She will cry if somebody grabs her toys.

Now, about the outfit. She is wearing the famous split pants you see on small children throughout China. No diapers for these kids, they just squat and let loose. While I have seen lots of pictures of kids wearing these pants, never have I seen them worn quite like this.

The Franciscans

The pieces are slowly coming together and by the end of the week, we should have travel dates. We should also have updates on our daughter. In the meantime, I am preparing. Calling pediatricians, finding playgroups and checking into early intervention services just in case and most importantly - shopping.

Saturday morning Debra and I went to a rummage sale at the Franciscan church, spending hours pouring over the mounds of baby clothes. Taking my cue from Debra, an expert in rummaging, I threw everything I thought might fit into a big garbage bag and then, after my eyes started glazing over, pulled the bag over to a corner and sat down to go through my haul. So much pink!!! As people politely (this is Japan) stepped over us, we sorted and debated and traded until we had used up every bit of fashion judgment we had and called it a day. 3500 yen later (about $30 US), I had two shopping bags filled with the least frilly but still mostly pink clothing – most barely worn. After a deep breath, we checked our clothing bags and moved into the “toy” room. I lasted only a few minutes, but long enough to pick up a few things – all very educational and not pink. Finally done, we stopped outside and ate at the little “restaurant” set up in front of the church, where we caught our breath, watched the activity and congratulated each other on our fabulous finds. Now, neither of us are quite sure exactly what “Franciscans” are, but they do put on a fine sale.

Our Phoenix

The days tick by as we await our travel authorization and consulate appointment. In the meantime, we are slowly getting more information on Ariana. Her Chinese name, Feng, means Phoenix. In Chinese Mythology, the Phoenix is a symbol of high virtue and grace, of power and prosperity, the union of yin and yang. A thoughtful creature.

I see that thoughtfulness in her pictures - an old soul is my little one. The weight of her experience so far is evident on her face, as is the resillience mentioned in her report. And I know she was loved. And I mourn. I mourn for the loss she has suffered. I mourn the loss her birth parents felt living under a system which left them no choice. No choice but to do what they did in the hopes their child would be taken care of. And she was, by some very caring people. And she will be...forever and ever.

A Baby in the House

This is Maya and Angelina. They came over to play yesterday with their parents. Actually, it was our first time entertaining - we had a barbeque, with hamburgers and hot dogs, cole slaw and potato salad - very American.

It was also the first time with a two year old in the house and I must say, it was enlightening. Arny got very nervous when Maya went over to the glass window (which goes from floor to ceiling) and put her hands on it – he knew it was securely attached to the building but still; he now wants to get a piece of furniture to block access as the thought of Ariana flying through the air nine stories to the ground was too much for him to even contemplate.

Getting used to someone that is knee high will take some time. I had to think and look down before I moved for fear of knocking her over as she would silently come up next to me.

There will be no more things artfully arranged on the coffee table, or any low surface for that matter. They are curious little buggers, aren’t they?

And yes, the bamboo shoots I have in vases on the floor must be moved.

Note to self: locks on cabinets, locks on cabinets, locks on cabinets!!!

But on the other hand, hearing the squeals of joy and laughter as she found something new, watching her smile with satisfaction as she rolled the big medicine ball to me in the hall and listening to this adorable one speak Japanese was priceless!!

I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait.......

On a Clear day..

we can see Mount Fuji from the balcony outside Jed's room.....

Ariana

While we are waiting for the official translated documents about our daughter, husband-san's boss kindly translated a two page document outlining her life since she got to the orphanage. Some things we learned:

Though not evident in the pictures, she does smile.
She is quiet and shy (just like I was when I was little)
She likes music - and dances to it (again, just like her mama)
She likes to rock on a rocking horse (note to self - go back to Toys r'us!!)
She likes to cry (ok, not to happy about this one!!)
Is cooperative when getting her clothes put on (this is good)

These little snippets of information make her that much more real. The other day I took out a tape measure and measures up from the floor her reported height.

She comes up to the middle of my thigh....................just imagine.......

“Gaijin mommy, gaijin”

...the little boy excited said to his mother over and over, as he pulled on her shirt and pointed. His mother, irritated not only at the boy continual chant, but at the possibility we knew what he was saying, kept shushing him, to no avail. You see, Gaijin is generally thought of as a derogatory word meaning something in between "foreigner" and "invading devil" in Japanese. Personally, I thought it was funny; both the boy and mother’s reaction. We were on the monorail out to Odaiba, an area of Tokyo newly developed. It is a beautiful ride over the Rainbow Bridge. We went to finally buy a couch to replace the one that wouldn't fit into our apartment, which we did, and get husband san some jeans (also did).

We also ventured into Toy’s r us. Having had a previous experience with Toys r us, written about in an earlier post last year, I am surprised I actually wanted to go. But then again, that was before I had anyone specific to buy things for. It was surprising in both a good and bad way.

Good - it was not nearly as crowded as the ones in the states.

Bizarre - seeing many recognizable toys sitting on the shelves with Japanese packaging.

Bad – Branding, branding, branding!! Japanese are big on brands here; most clothing has some sort of writing on it, but toys! I don’t think there was one item in the store that was not representative of a larger brand. They even had a play sized McDonald’s restaurant. Why????? I couldn’t find what I was looking for – an etch-a-sketch. Or any other simple basic toy that just was what it was.

Bad – no asian looking dolls. Lots of caucasion looking ones, but not one asian one. No wonder Japanese teenage girls are dying their hair blond and getting eye lid surgery. Sad.