Day 11: Unexpected Challenges

Today's guest blogger is Kim, pictured here with her husband and sons on their first day as a family.

One minute you're two happily married people who do whatever you want, whenever you want. Maybe you want to go to see Mumford and Sons. Done. Maybe you want to drive up to Minneapolis for some sushi and shopping. Done.

Then suddenly you're bent over the toilet at the Ethiopian guesthouse losing your breakfast because you found out that you're becoming real-life parents three days earlier than planned. "I can't do this," you beg.  "Please God. I don't know what we were thinking. I've changed my mind. Please."

One minute you think you've adopted two healthy boys with big appetites and energy to play soccer for hours.

Then suddenly your husband is spending four hours in a clinic in Addis Abeba with your oldest son who had a seizure your last night in country. Your son gets a shaved head, has an EEG that shows some kind of abnormality, and in a rush you pack at the guesthouse in order to make your flight back home.

One minute you think you have faith. You believe in Jesus. You trust in His plan for your life.

Then suddenly you're clinging on with white knuckles, begging that He doesn't leave you, crying out for the strength to get through each day. 

Maybe you're finally figuring out what faith really is.

So, in a nutshell, that describes our first months of parenting. Like the crazy folks we are, my husband and I went from being the parents of zero children to being the parents of two older sons adopted from Ethiopia. We really did everything we could to prepare. We read the books, watched the videos, had the conversations. But still there were many unexpected challenges that came as a side order with the main dish of older child adoption.

Unknowns

For our first several months of parenting, our oldest son suffered from seizures, sometimes several a day. We had no prior knowledge of a seizure disorder. It wasn’t until the night before we were supposed to fly home from Ethiopia that he had his first tonic clonic seizure. It feels like a dream to remember this time. After we came home, sweet Getu had seizures sometimes several times a day until last September when we finally got his medications under control.

Getu’s seizures didn’t make us love him any less; they made us love him move. I’m not sure I really understood what it meant to be a mother until I cradled my then 8-year-old son’s limp body on our kitchen floor after he had had another seizure. We survived traumatic blood draws, CT scans, MRIs, and multiple doctor’s visits. We became a family.

Other challenging unknowns have manifested themselves in the narrative we’ve been told about our sons.  This part is personal; it’s not my story to tell. I will just say that some of the stories we’ve been told from our agency and from the boys and from another third party are conflicting. Not kind of conflicting. Mind-blown-not-sure-how-to-proceed conflicting. And we used a reputable agency. Stories like ours aren’t unique either.  So health unknowns, behavior unknowns, and narrative unknowns should not come as a surprise.

Big Feelings

I would like to say that I wore my new role as an adoptive mother like a well-worn parka, comfortable and warm. The reality is that I did more crying and yelling in those first months than I really want to admit.  (Except I just did.) And I wasn’t the only one in our family experiencing Big Feelings.

Yes, the first several months were accompanied by a myriad of what my husband and I have deemed Big Feelings. Big Feelings manifest themselves in tantrums, inexplicable crying, difficulty getting to sleep, physical violence, and ugly talk. Bryan Post breaks down our emotions into two categories:  fear and love. Those first months home will carry with them a lot of fear for your children and for you. We were somewhat prepared for this, but the extent of the Big Feelings was definitely an unexpected challenge for us.

I would like to tell you that now, over a year later, we have all conquered our Big Feelings and are carrying on in our world of butterflies and unicorns and neuro-typical children. However, that would be a Big Fat Lie.  The boys (and the parents!) do a much better job of recognizing and handling the Big Feelings, but there are still moments where it feels like we live in a town with BF as mayor. That is certainly a daily challenge that comes with older child adoption.

Cultural Identity Crisis

This is something that I am internally wrestling with on a daily basis, and I just couldn’t have predicted what a giant deal this would be. We are a transracial family, so this is mostly a complication of that, not just older child adoption. I do think, though, that we’re dealing with these issues and conversations in much different ways than if we had adopted younger children. Yes, those younger children would still have memories and experiences from birth culture, but not in the same way that an 8- and 9-year-old child would.

From day #1 we tried to incorporate Ethiopian culture in our house. I cooked the foods, played the music, showed the videos. And despite every effort, the boys now reject nearly everything but the food. They lost their first language, their birth words, the lexicon of their first family. And with that loss came more helpings of grief and confusion and hard, hard questions about belonging and identity and names. No matter how I spin it, my boys are being raised white with black skin, and when I think of their future, I can’t sleep.

I’m reading books (like this and this) and being part of online forums and Facebook groups with adult adoptees who sometimes speak loudly in angry and unsettling voices because I need to know and prepare and seek to understand.

So those are some of the unexpected challenges that come with older child adoption, and really maybe any adoption. This is by no means an exhaustive list; it’s just a few of our stories, our challenges.

I have to leave you with this, though:  Given all of these struggles would be still adopt our Getu and Endale again? Without a second thought!

Our Family Today

Check back tomorrow as Kim shares about the unexpected blessings of older child adoption.

To read this whole series, start here with Day 1: 31 Days of Preparing to Parent. . . when you're adopting an older child.

Kim is a full-time teacher, wife, mother, and Christ-follower. Her family doubled in size last April with the addition of Getu (9) and Endale (8).  Kim blogs at Like the Love. 

24 Days Each Summer

I cried on and off all day Sunday. I cried for a family I've never met.

Katherine's new friend from soccer has a big sister who suffers from San Filippo Syndrome. It's incurable. . . and progressive. . . and fatal.

On Sunday, Mike took Katherine to help her friend sell lemonade to raise money for San Filippo research. I stayed home and read about the syndrome online and cried.

Because I know what it's like to lose a child.

Because it's almost that time.

The 24 days each summer that are really hard for me.

On June 22, it will be twelve years since my daughter, Sarah, was born, and on July 15, it will be twelve years since she died. She only lived 24 days.

Every year I remember.

Every year I'm sad.

Whenever we lose someone we love, certain special days are harder than others. Birthdays. Anniversaries. I think it's a normal part of grief.

Sarah's little life was so short that the whole 24 days is like one event to me.

It's gotten better over time -- a lot better. It's not debilitating. Last year, one of the days -- I don't remember if it was the anniversary of her birth or the anniversary of her death -- passed before I knew it. I literally forgot to be sad that day. A few days later I realized my mistake and had to smile. A lot of healing has happened in my heart.

But still, I get a little nervous each year, anticipating those 24 days.

As they approach, I get uneasy.

That's just where I am, 12 years after the fact.

And I think that's OK.

Sharing today at Emily's blog.

Blogaholics Anonymous

I got a little off my normal schedule this weekend. Saturday afternoon I posted The Art of Parenting My Preteen Daughter. If you didn't get a chance to read it, be sure and catch up today. Then on Sunday, I snapped  the adorable photo above of said preteen daughter being silly and sweet with Mike.

This Blogaholics Anonymous is coming a couple of days late, but the links are so good, I didn't want to wait until next weekend to post them.

I'm a blog addict, an information junkie. I read decorating blogs, home organization blogs, adoption blogs, political blogs -- anything that makes me learn or think or laugh or grow.  This blog addiction serves me well as I learn to parent my child from the hard places. Every week I share my favorites with you here at Death by Great Wall. 

You must jump OUT of the Trauma Tornado - when parenting trauma background kids, the parents have to be the first to change. This is a simple, easy-to-understand explanation of why we have to parent trauma kids differently.

a letter to my 4 year old on her birthday - Birthdays are perfect times to remember birth parents, even when your child is only 4 years old.

This is not a gray area. What do you do when you fly overseas to pick up your new child, only to find out that she has living family members -- a mother even -- and they haven't relinquished her. How do you pray about your adoption? How do you ask others to pray?

How Magic Johnson Became My New Favorite Basketball Player - This Dad is with his family in China, right now, adopting twins. The fact that both his new children are HIV positive no longer frightens him.

My Favorite Posts Revisited: Building Trust

If there's one thing I've learned along our adoption journey, it's that the unexpected tough times  -- the meltdowns, the tantrums, the defiance, the whining, the over the top emotional responses that take us by surprise -- are really opportunities in disguise. They are opportunities to understand our child. They are opportunities to show love. They are opportunities to build trust. When our child is hurting and doing everything in his power to push us away, we have a chance to show him once again, that we're not going anywhere. This mom and dad are here to stay.

Last week we had an "opportunity," and of course, it came at an inconvenient time -- a time when I'd have rather been sleeping.

"It hurts! My throat hurts! Make it stop!" It was 1 a.m. and Wenxin could not be consoled.

We weren't surprised because Nathan had been sick for days -- sore throat, fever, cough -- sick enough that we took him to the pediatrician, something our family doesn't do for every little sniffle. However, the doctor had no magic pills to zap this nasty bug. Like most viral illnesses, it would just have to run its course.  When Wenxin began to get sick, we knew he felt awful. We'd been watching Nathan feel awful for days.

Still, Wenxin's reaction seemed a little over the top. As we sat up with him in our family room in the middle of the night, nothing we tried helped.

"I don't want to snuggle! I don't want you to hold me!" Fighting me on the sofa, he arched his back and screamed, " MAKE IT STOP HURTING!" 

Mike made him a mug of warm water with honey. "No!" We offered cough drops and throat lozenges.  "No!" Finally, he let me feed him a cup of children's ibuprofen. Of course, that stuff doesn't work instantly.

I tried to calm him with my words. "Mama knows you feel bad. I'm not going to leave you while you're sick.  You'll get better."

Wenxin responded with . . .more kicking. . . more screaming. . . huge tears.

I prayed softly over him, asking God to heal his sore throat.

Eventually, Nathan wandered into the living room. The noise had woken him up. "I'm afraid something is really wrong with Wenxin," he said. "I'm scared." At only 12 years old, even Nathan knew this was not a "normal" reaction to a sore throat.

We reassured him and sent him back to bed.

"Maybe he has a really low tolerance for pain?" I sort-of-joked out loud. Mike and I both agreed that he was truly sick. We also agreed that all this screaming couldn't possibly be helping, but that point seemed lost on Wenxin. We asked each other, "Where is this over the top reaction coming from?"

Exhausted, I asked Mike to get his guitar. Wenxin screamed while Mike strummed. Mike and I sang praise songs together. In a few minutes, Wenxin's volume went down and he snuggled up with me -- just a bit.  Mike, who's a little out of practice, stumbled on some chords, bringing the tiniest of smiles to Wenxin's lips.  Finally, around 2 a.m., calm descended on the room, and we were ready for bed.

Stories like this make us scratch our heads. We've come so far. Most days, Wenxin's just another kid in our family. And then something like this happens.  . . something that seems really abnormal. . . .at least, really abnormal for a nine year old.

We've been piecing together what we can about Wenxin's history. For whatever reason, sometimes the records you get with an international adoption aren't completely accurate. Wenxin's special need was listed as burn scars, from a severe burn he received, according to his adoption records, before he was one month old.

Wenxin, however, insists it happened when he was in foster care. He believes he was three or four years old -- old enough to walk and old enough to remember.

He's told us the same story in detail several times. The last time he told me, I said, "You know, Wenxin, when Daddy and I went to China to adopt you, they gave us some papers that told about your life. In the papers, they wrote that you were burned when you were a tiny baby, before you lived with your foster mom."

"Fine." Wenxin said sharply. "I was a baby." 

Then, turning to walk away, he mumbled loudly, "LIARS."

On that night, weeks later, as we  tried to get Wenxin to calm down and let us comfort him, Mike said, "This makes me think that maybe he does remember being burned."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, a burn injury is extremely painful. If he has a memory of that time, it might explain his over the top, emotional reaction to any type of pain."

It's a possibility. It's a possibility, although we may never know for sure.

We can, however, be sure that even after a year and a half, we are still in the process of building trust with Wenxin. Kids who are older when they are adopted have probably had their trust broken many times. How are they supposed to know for sure -- not just in words, but deep down in their hearts-- that these new parents are any different? Will we really be there for them when they are sick . . . or upset. . . or out of control?

I think we did OK that night. Finally, around 2 a.m., I asked Wenxin if he'd like to sleep with us, since he was sick. That made him really happy. As we got in bed, he wrapped his arms around me and snuggling up close, had a coughing fit, right in my face. 

So I wasn't surprised a few days later when my throat began to hurt and I began to cough. By early afternoon, I decided to take a nap on the sofa. Wenxin brought me his favorite blankets and tucked me in.  Made my heart smile. Looks like we're not just building trust. Hopefully, we're building compassion too.

Paint Me a Picture of How it All Started

Today I'm reposting the story of how it all started.  Way back in 2009.

At the bottom of this post, you can use the linky tool to share a post about the beginning of your own adoption journey. It can be a post about why you adopted or maybe the post where you announced your plans to adopt. Share anything that paints a picture of how it all started. I can't wait to read each and every story. 

Why China?

Simply put – Because that’s where Wenxin is.

We’ve known we wanted to grow our family through adoption now for years. But there were so many questions. Boy or girl? Infant, toddler, or older child? Domestic or international? Healthy or special needs? Adoptive parents are called on to make decisions that biological parents never face. Those decisions can be paralyzing.

We tended to face those decisions that would alter our destiny (and that of all our children) late at night. There were many groggy, after-midnight conversations. Some options were ruled out. Others reconsidered.

Mike is a “possibilities” guy. Narrowing down options goes against his very nature. Exasperated, at one point I said, “Honey, there are millions of orphans in this world. If we have to consider each one individually, we’ll never do anything!”

My heart was drawn to waiting children. A lot of adoptive parents prefer girls – especially when looking at older kids. Our family seemed to be missing a boy.

And then we found him -- a sweet six year old Chinese boy on the waiting children’s list of an agency recommended by friends. Mike said, “Get more info on him.” After months of seeing things from different perspectives, suddenly we agreed on this child. I shot off a quick e-mail to the agency. So as not to seem too picky, I also listed four more kids we’d consider. The agency e-mailed back that the others were already being considered by other families, but offered to send Wenxin’s info. My heart leapt.

Suddenly we were holding photos, a video, biography, and the medical records of the little boy who just might be our son. But we were leaving town for two weeks in just two days, and we desperately needed our pediatrician’s input.

The receptionist was kind, but not very encouraging. This doctor is booked for months in advance. She also told me that the fee was $250 and definitely not covered by insurance. She took down all the details and left for a moment.

“Can you be here in 30 minutes?” she asked when she returned. Pandemonium ensued as we tossed our other 3 kids into the van and raced through rush hour traffic as fast as we could. It was kind of like driving to the hospital in labor.

Dr. Lagod reviewed his file. He looked healthy, but sad. She warned us of attachment problems that can occur with adopted kids. She pointed out that while his physical exam and lab work look fine, we know nothing of his birth parents. What about drugs and alcohol in pregnancy? This kid comes with a world of unknowns.

Dr. Lagod wished us well and refused to take payment for her services. She’s known us for a long time. She’s cared for each of our babies since birth. She was with us in 2001 when our daughter Sarah was born with a fatal chromosomal disorder.  She fought for appropriate treatment for little Sarah, valuing her as a person, in spite of her severe handicaps. She attended her burial.

We felt as if God were sweeping us along on this adventure. Wenxin has some burn scars from an injury as an infant. The next evening as we surfed TV channels, we settled on the news show, 20/20. The main story was about amazing advancements in the treatment of burn scars. I didn’t dare look at Mike. When I did, we were both teary- eyed.

A Christian doctor we’d just met the week before agreed to have a plastic surgeon friend look at photos of Wenxin’s scars. No need for further treatment at this time. Another green light.

For the next two weeks, we traveled as a family to Alabama and on as a couple to Colorado. Mike and I prayed and talked. We tried to shock each other into reality by brainstorming “worse case scenarios.” We made phone calls to the agency with nit-picky questions. At one point I said, “This is either the greatest thing we’ve ever done, or the stupidest.”

But aren’t all acts of faith like that?

For me, I think what sealed the deal was realizing that as scared as I am of all the unknowns, the thing I’m most scared of is that we won’t be able to adopt him. Mike agrees and we are taking the plunge.

So China it is. Let the journey begin.

When this post was originally published in 2009, I did not include Wenxin's photo per China adoption regulations.  I'm so glad I can include it now.  That photo won our hearts!

Use the easy linky tool below to share your own story.  Afterwards, please link back to Death by Great Wall from your blog using a text link or by grabbing the blog button on my sidebar.

More than one adoption? Link a post for each one. Don't have a blog? Share your story as a comment.  Don't worry about what really qualifies as older child adoption.  If you have a story to share, we want to hear it. Thanks!

Shared at Growing Slower's Tuesday Baby Link Up and Simple As That's Simple Things Sunday.

Adoption Loss - Personal History

Wenxin, with the only dad he's ever known 

One of the losses inherent in so many adoptions is a loss of personal history.  The truth of what happened in a child's life up to a certain point simply vanishes.

Recently, two seemingly insignificant moments drove this truth home to me.

First, Wenxin got sick.

Mike travels internationally.  It seems to be an unspoken law of nature that everything falls apart when Dad's away.  During Mike's last overseas trip, Wenxin came down with a fever and a bad headache.  When Wenxin's temperature rose to almost 105 degrees Fahrenheit, I took him to Urgent Care.

The doctor thought he might have the flu.  She began to ask me questions about his medical history.  All I know of his medical history before we adopted him in 2010 is the scanty information in his adoption file.  And who knows if that's even accurate?

The doctor made an interesting statement.  "If he tests positively for the flu, I'll prescribe Tamiflu for him.  Generally, we aren't giving Tamiflu to kids this year.  But since we don't really know his medical history -- for example, we don't know if he had problems with wheezing as a baby -- we'll err on the side of caution and give him the medicine."

Most moms are experts on their kids' medical histories.    Most moms remember if their kids ever had breathing treatments for wheezing, or were prone to ear infections or had food allergies.  I don't know any of those things about my son.  I'm only an expert on the last year and a half.

Wenxin has lost a chunk of his medical history.

The second incident occurred when Nathan brought home an ancestry assignment from school:  Trace your family tree back to an immigrant or a Native American.

I couldn't help but wonder, "How would Wenxin do this project?"

I guess he could just write his name on the poster and turn it in.  He is, afterall, an immigrant.  Maybe it would just be an easy A.

Or, he could, of course, trace our family history since he has been permanently adopted into our family.  Our family tree has become his.  He has been grafted in.

But the issue isn't really "how to do the project."  The assignment itself drives home an uncomfortable truth:  Wenxin's original family history is a blank.  We don't know the names of his birth parents.  We don't even know for sure where he was born or on what date.  That is a loss unique to adoption and very common with kids adopted from China.

Recently I've been reading about DNA testing on some adoption message boards.  There's a company called 23andme that will analyze youre DNA and send you a report containing info about your ancestral origins and your health.  23andme will also let you know if any of your relatives have submitted their DNA.  You have the opportunity to anonymously ask them if they'd like to establish contact.  As the database of kids adopted from China grows, in the future our children may have the chance to connect with distant cousins and maybe even siblings.

It got me thinking.  I wonder if future scientific developments will help our kids fill in pieces of their missing histories.  I think it's likely.  While I don't plan to do anything now, I'll be watching.  When Wenxin is old enough to weigh in with his thoughts and desires, he may choose to let science give back some of the history he's lost.  We'll see.

Special Note:  This week, Death by Great Wall, is getting a design makeover.  If everything goes according to schedule (do makeovers ever go according to schedule?) we should have the reveal by the end of the week.  Be sure to drop by and check out our new look!

The Ups and Downs and All Arounds

This made my day.

 

Wenxin let me teach him how to write his name in English and then. . . he drew our family.  First there's Mike, and then me in the green.  I love the details - holding hands with a heart between us.  Next, holding on to my leg, is Wenxin.  Then Nathan and Katherine.  Finally Julia - squeezed in between Mike and me.

Looks like big ears run in our family.

That sweet drawing put a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

We didn't start off so well

This morning I tried to have "story-time" for Katherine and Wenxin.  I picked fun, simple English books.  I read Dr. Seuss's Hop on Pop  in my silliest dramatic voice. 

It was going really well.  Wenxin was engaged.  He was laughing. 

And then he began to grab for the book.  I said, "No," and continued to read and hold the book up for both kids to see.  More grabbing.  And then whining.  When I insisted on holding the book, Wenxin turned his back to me and sat facing the other way.  Then he walked off.  Poor Katherine was left having to listen to Hop on Pop.  Wenxin walked past us a time or two and made vomiting noises in our direction.  Then he ran by and slapped Katherine on the top of the head.  Mike and I intervened and gave Katherine lots of loving and had Wenxin apologize to her. 

Our days have lots of ups and downs. 

Yesterday, we learned that Wenxin enjoys jigsaw puzzles. 

It's the first thing I've found that he enjoys doing by himself.

A highlight of today was writing letters and numbers in shaving cream. 

The winner for the low point of the whole past week was the first day we tried to take Wenxin to the doctor.  I say "first day" because it took two tries before we actually got him there. 

I'd called our pediatrician to schedule a post-adoption check up for Wenxin.  While we were on the phone I mentioned he was running a fever.  (I don't freak out about fevers when kids otherwise feel fine.  I was not planning on taking him to the doctor.)

Since Wenxin was just adopted from overseas, the doctor wanted to see him right away.  I called Mike to come home from work to stay with the other kids while I took Wenxin to his appointment.  Then I made a fatal mistake.  I asked Mike to explain to Wenxin where we were going.

We bought a cool toy in Beijing.  It's a pen that reads special books in both English and Mandarin.  Mike got the vocabulary book and touched the word that said "sick."  Wenxin listened to the word for sick in Mandarin and agreed that he felt sick.  Then Mike said, "Mama will take you to the _____," and he touched the word for "doctor." 

Wenxin immediately began to say "no" over and over.  He began to touch his head and say, "Mama, no ouch!"  He smiled his biggest smile to show me he was just fine.  Then, when we continued to put on his shoes, he went berserk! 

We'd get one shoe on and the other shoe would go flying across the room.  He was sobbing and fighting and clawing.  It became clear that there was no way I'd be able to drive him safely to the doctor.

So I called the doctor and cancelled. 

When Wenxin became convinced he was out of danger, he began to say, "Mama - sleep please." 

The calm after the storm

The next morning, Mike and I packed a backpack full of toys and snacks and drinks and together, we took Wenxin to see the doctor. We decided it was a "two parent" job. We decided not to announce exactly where we were going. And this time, he did great.  We're learning.

Why China?

Why China?

Simply put – Because that’s where Wenxin is.

We’ve known we wanted to grow our family through adoption now for years. But there were so many questions. Boy or girl? Infant, toddler, or older child? Domestic or international? Healthy or special needs? Adoptive parents are called on to make decisions that biological parents never face. Those decisions can be paralyzing.

We tended to face those decisions that would alter our destiny (and that of all our children) late at night. There were many groggy, after-midnight conversations. Some options were ruled out. Others reconsidered.

Mike is a “possibilities” guy. Narrowing down options goes against his very nature. Exasperated, at one point I said, “Honey, there are millions of orphans in this world. If we have to consider each one individually, we’ll never do anything!”

My heart was drawn to waiting children. A lot of adoptive parents prefer girls – especially when looking at older kids. Our family seemed to be missing a boy.

And then we found him -- a sweet six year old Chinese boy on the waiting children’s list of an agency recommended by friends. Mike said, “Get more info on him.” After months of seeing things from different perspectives, suddenly we agreed on this child. I shot off a quick e-mail to the agency. So as not to seem too picky, I also listed four more kids we’d consider. The agency e-mailed back that the others were already being considered by other families, but offered to send Wenxin’s info. My heart leapt.

Suddenly we were holding photos, a video, biography, and the medical records of the little boy who just might be our son. But we were leaving town for two weeks in just two days, and we desperately needed our pediatrician’s input.

The receptionist was kind, but not very encouraging. This doctor is booked for months in advance. She also told me that the fee was $250 and definitely not covered by insurance. She took down all the details and left for a moment.

“Can you be here in 30 minutes?” she asked when she returned. Pandemonium ensued as we tossed our other 3 kids into the van and raced through rush hour traffic as fast as we could. It was kind of like driving to the hospital in labor.

Dr. Lagod reviewed his file. He looked healthy, but sad. She warned us of attachment problems that can occur with adopted kids. She pointed out that while his physical exam and lab work look fine, we know nothing of his birth parents. What about drugs and alcohol in pregnancy? This kid comes with a world of unknowns.

Dr. Lagod wished us well and refused to take payment for her services. She’s known us for a long time. She’s cared for each of our babies since birth. She was with us in 2001 when our daughter Sarah was born with a fatal chromosomal disorder. She fought for appropriate treatment for little Sarah, valuing her as a person, in spite of her severe handicaps. She attended her burial.

We felt as if God were sweeping us along on this adventure. Wenxin has some burn scars from an injury as an infant. The next evening as we surfed TV channels, we settled on the news show, 20/20. The main story was about amazing advancements in the treatment of burn scars. I didn’t dare look at Mike. When I did, we were both teary- eyed.

A Christian doctor we’d just met the week before agreed to have a plastic surgeon friend look at photos of Wenxin’s scars. No need for further treatment at this time. Another green light.

For the next two weeks, we traveled as a family to Alabama and on as a couple to Colorado. Mike and I prayed and talked. We tried to shock each other into reality by brainstorming “worse case scenarios.” We made phone calls to the agency with nit-picky questions. At one point I said, “This is either the greatest thing we’ve ever done, or the stupidest.”

But aren’t all acts of faith like that?

For me, I think what sealed the deal was realizing that as scared as I am of all the unknowns, the thing I’m most scared of is that we won’t be able to adopt him. Mike agrees and we are taking the plunge.

So China it is. Let the journey begin.

When this post was originally published in 2009, I did not include Wenxin's photo per China adoption regulations. I'm so glad I can include it now. That photo won our hearts!