"If
I Knew Then, What I know Now"
Written by Amy Clark
Copywrite December, 2007
The
road to adoption is a very long one. Curvy. Bumpy. Unpredictable.
When we first decided to adopt, my world lit up. Its like the
color, which is already great, when you take a photo, gets
put on the
computer, manipulated a bit, and the color intensifies. Beauty
that you can't believe is captured.
Though
I did not realize it, as the months became a year, and the
the year became 13
months, 14 months, 15 months... Color was draining
from my world. Slowly almost imperceptibly. By the time we
were close to referral, my world had somehow slipped into what
felt
like a shadeless hue of gray. The joy of expectation, met with
month after month of loss expectations, watered down the colors
of life and the events that I had thought Natalie would be
home for.
When
we received her referral, I felt like I was in The Wizard of
OZ. Color came back to the edges of everything.
Bright,
beautiful hope filled, glorious color. Still, after all the
waiting, I could
not seem to get into OZ. I knew I was going to my baby, but
needed the assurance the ride was almost over. That I would
get off, no
worse for the wear, and carrying what I had jumped on for.
The
day I walked into the Guangdong Civil Affairs, where I peeked
into a room, that they hurried us past, and spotted
my Natalie,
in bright red, the world became technicolored again.
They
placed my daughter in my arms and I began to speak her name,
Jin (like Jing) Yuan, softly. Good girl, baby
don't
cry, mama is
here, I am your mama, you are my daughter. Mama is here...over
and over soothing us both. All in Mandarin, these foreign
words on my tongue, I had practiced for months, were
now whispered
into my daughter's ear, at long last. We each took in
the words.
The
reality settled over me. My live, slim daughter, smooth dark
hair shooting straight off her head. Her
cry...her
voice. I could
see her her long lashes, tears streaming down her soft
baby cheeks. Her name tag, stuck to her Chinese red
coat, Lei
Jin Yuan, in my
language, and in hers.
I
was in China, but felt like I had clicked my ruby red slippers,
and my daughter was actually
going to
discover,
with me,
there is no place like home.
I would do this wait a thousand times over to hold
this little girl, have her stare into my eyes, reach
her tiny
arms for
me, pat my back (as she did today for the first time),
and insist that
I do not put her down. If I would have tasted these
moments, there could have been no gray.
I
have tried to tell her, because she panics if I give the slightest
indication
I will put her down,
that
we will not
be separated.
I am as determined as she is. She still does not
believe me, but that's okay. I have the rest of
our lives to
prove it to
her.
