We celebrated Gotcha Day a year ago today!  If you like, you can watch Jim’s fabulous video of that day here.  Interestingly though, Gotcha day doesn’t hold a lot of meaning for us as I’ll describe in a post next week.  What I’d like to do today instead, is post what I wrote last month about the day we met Gigi.  (I was waiting on Jim for something which is why I didn’t post it a month ago.)  So without further ado… 

Placed in Our Arms, One Year Ago

One year ago today, we were in Petropavlovsk, Kazakhstan and met our beautiful daughter!  Hard to believe it's been a year already!! 

It’s fun to go back and re-read what I wrote a year (or more!) ago.  If there is anyone who reads this of whom I’m not aware, and has yet to travel but is contemplating keeping a journal, I highly recommend doing so.  Having our entries to go back and read and re-read has been absolutely wonderful.  And Gigi gets such a kick out of watching herself in the videos.  She soaks up every video and every picture we show her.   

It’s funny what I remember today as opposed to what I thought was worthy of writing back then.  For instance, I don’t remember much of anything prior to the baby house.  The only thing I remember is waiting to be allowed past the turn-style until the office building was open for the day.  I watched all the business people coming to work and I thought, “This is just like anywhere else; any other corporate type office.”   

The next thing I remember is being hit with the smell of the babyhouse.  While I grew to like it and find it comforting, those first couple of days it absolutely nauseated me (I was getting over jet lag which always makes me queasy anyway).  If I tried to describe it, I’d say it’s a mix between your usual kindergarten room (lots of little kids who don’t yet bathe regularly but who are highly active) and boiled potatoes.  

The next thing I remember was the 2 year old girl.  While Kazakhstan law says “even though the prospective adoptive parents may wish to adopt a particular child” a family “must personally choose a child.”  When we signed on with WPA back in 2006, we requested an infant girl, any ethnicity, with “mild, correctable needs” (standard language to mean healthy).  We knew for whom we were traveling and therefore ‘wished to adopt a particular child,’ but in order to comply with the law, we were shown two additional children to choose from.  The 2 year old was serious special needs.  I simply wasn’t prepared for it.  Her head was misshapen, her hands and arms and legs were twisted.  Her mental acuteness was also diminished.  With all the changes and emotions the previous 3 days had wrought, I almost burst into tears and started blubbering knowing that this child is paraded before almost all families and has almost zero chance of being “chosen.”  As the weeks passed and we saw her outside on the playground, I realized she had a special light in her, such spirit, and she was a joyful and beautiful child regardless of her physical differences.  She will always remain in my mind and memories. 

I remember waiting FOR-EVER!! for them to bring in Gigi.   It felt like an hour had passed though I’m sure it was 30 minutes or less.  I still remember that little yellow bow on the front of her outfit.  The perfect picture of sweet innocence. When I saw her and held her for the first time, I remember the overwhelmingness of it all.  (I know that’s not a real word.)  I won’t even try to write out all the feelings.  Anyone who is a parent, no matter the method, can understand the joy and awe when we first hold those little beings, but also the other feelings that assail one as it becomes clear that a little person, a real live human being, is forevermore in our care to raise and nourish. 

I admit, as a year has gone by, it’s hard to remember that she was once a little 6 month old baby who couldn’t walk or talk.  She never was a particularly cuddly baby so I can’t even say I had that to remember.  She was always on the go- even when the only ‘go’ she had was rolling over and over.  They say she was rolling at 4 months.  I found this hard to believe of an institutionalized baby.  Then I met her, and realized it was the truth!  LOL!!  I do remember she demanded entertainment every day during our visits.  It was as if she said, “This whole bonding period has nothing to do with bonding.  Get that out of your mind!  It’s all about YOU entertaining ME, buddy!  Got it?!”  We got it. :-)   

I think ‘demanding’ was/is a good word to describe Gigi.  Whereas so many other people who have adopted can show a picture of the first day of bonding and the last day, and see a vast difference in the happiness and engagement of the child, we really can’t.  Sure she’s a little shell shocked at first on that first day from being placed in strangers arms, but that’s to be expected.  I think it’s because of her demanding nature.  She demanded that the caretakers pay attention to her.  We were regaled with stories from the caretakers about how she would scream bloody murder (louder than any of the other babies) to get exactly what she wanted.  She was held more than the other babies in the room just to keep her quiet, she was put in the walker more, she was certainly fed!  They said she knew what she wanted and how to get it.  Queen diva was what they called her.  I believe it!  Because of this, her light never went out so to speak.  She wasn’t just marking time.  She made her world.  Which is good and bad.  Good in that she’s a fighter and she’s strong and she knows what she wants and goes after it (oh boy, does she!).  Bad in that we’ve had to work to show her that she doesn’t have to rely on herself to make her world- we can do that for her now.  It’s definitely been a challenge.  We haven’t had some of the special moments that many other parents get to experience, but that’s ok- we get different, but equally special moments.   

Before we knew anything about Gigi, I had a dream about her.  Actually I had the dream almost exactly 1 month after she was born.  I emailed it to my mom and sister.  I’ll share that email here now.  Anyone who knows Gigi or has been following along will get a kick out of it. 

 I dreamed that I met Gia.  Dad and I were over in Kaz (I don't know where Jim was) and I met my baby girl.  There were two girls there.  Gia was 12 mo and this other little girl was a little younger.  Maybe 9 months or so.  This other little girl was just a doll face.  Perfect skin, black curly hair, the sweetest little lips.  Big eyes.  Her personality was very calm and very sweet.  She was the perfect little doll baby.  Her new parents were a couple who arrived at the same time Dad and I did.  They were very formal, very mild mannered and even tempered.  Very prim and proper people.  Gia on the other hand had a shaved head to about 1/2 inch of hair.  Her face had about 4-5 scabs on it from either bug bites or baby pimples.  And the right side of her lower lip was gone and partially mangled- it looked like either a small dog had taken a bite out of her or a rat had nibbled on it.  But you know what?  Her personality far outweighed her looks.  You hardly even noticed the imperfections.  I thought, "Scabs?  Eh, they'll go away.  Missing portion of lip?  Nothing minor plastic surgery can't take care of."  This little girl packed more personality than Becca and Caroline combined (which is hard to do!).  She was a dynamo.  Quite the little spitfire and defiant even at the early age of 12 mo.  When I looked at the two little girls, it was hard to miss the physical differences.  While the one girl was every bit the sugar and spice of a china doll, my baby looked like a 1 year old hard-core convict.  But I recognized that there was no way the other couple could take care of the little spitfire that was Gia-girl.  Not saying that it wouldn't be a huge challenge to us either.  It would take every ounce of strength we had to spend the next 18 years to channel that passion and that fire into doing something good for this world rather than becoming another destructive force.  But holding her, as rough and tumble as she looked, and as precocious and willful as she was, I knew she was meant for us without a doubt.  There was a sense of peace like nothing I could describe (even though she was anything but peaceful).  There was not even one iota of doubt in my head, in my gut, or in my heart.  This was the real deal.

I keep thinking about that dream and I'm glad I had it.  It showed me that looks aren't everything.  Cause, hey, I'm human and I admit, I am (was) hoping to get a beautiful baby.  The kind that's beautiful to the world and not just her parents. :-)  While I really do trust in God that he's making the right baby for us, my own little voices come to the front sometimes to wish for a healthy baby.  A pretty baby.  A smart baby.  A baby with curly dark hair.  A baby with big brown eyes.  But my dream showed me partly that I need to shush my voices.  And partly that I need to REALLY trust that the baby I'm meant to have will come to me.  And partly that my preconceived notions of what I hope my baby will be like, are not correct.  And partly that it's not what my baby is to me, but what I am to my baby, and how I raise her. 

My mom constantly reminds me that I got what I asked for when it comes to Gia’s personality. :-) Funny how it worked out- we have a beautiful, smart daughter who is willful, headstrong, and always moving.  Our little whirlwind. Oh yeah, another thing I remember after meeting her is going back to the hotel and looking at all the clothes we brought.  We were advised that orphanage babies are small, so even if she’s 6 months, she’ll probably be in 3 month clothing.  Ha!  She was 6 months and fit into 9 month clothes!  I had to chuckle when I looked at all the 3 and 6 month clothing we brought. 

I asked Jim what he remembers from that day.  His immediate response was, “I wish I brought the video camera!!” :-)  We weren’t sure if it would be appropriate so we left it at the hotel and only brought the point-n-shoot camera/video recorder.  He also agrees that he remembers nothing of the time before the babyhouse, nor does he remember anything after Dr. Rimma’s office.  I admit, I don’t remember much of the hour the three of us spent in the music room either.  Odd.

All right, I’ll quit yapping and let you watch the video of the very moment she was placed in our arms.  Wow!