She's Mine!

It's been about 48 hours since we left the orphanage and what an amazing couple of days!

First, as a spoiler alert, let me just say that Junior and I are resting comfortably in our New Delhi hotel.  More on that later...

My cousin and I were met at the airport by Mr. Palini, our driver.  He knew some English and some French as he was from Pondicherry, the former French colony.  As no one had told him what the purpose of our trip was, he immediately started driving us to Mahabalipuram, a famous 7th Century temple ruin south of Chennai.  When we explained to him that no, we were travelling to Chennai to bring a child home, he was confused.  When we told him that the orphanage was in the suburb of Manapakkam, not Mahabalipuram, he was still more confused.  Finally he stopped the car and called his dispatcher, who then got on the phone with me.  Clearly there had been a misunderstanding...We got it worked out and he took us to our hotel....which was a fabulous place. 

We still had about four or five hours to kill, so we decided to freshen up and then go shopping -- my cousin is an Olympic level champion shopper and I love her taste, so I always enjoy our shopping excursions.  Lest you think it strange to shop just before picking up a child at an orphanage, let me assure you that it beat the alternative - wringing my hands in anticipation and churning every imaginable scenario of what could go wrong.  If this doesn't sound like me, clearly you have not spent above 2 minutes with me in person.

After shopping (where I got some beautiful outfits for both Junior and Rain, along with myself, of course), we drove to the orphanage.  Mr. Palini got only a little lost along the way.  

We arrived at the orphanage - which was more of a compound in a not-great-but-not-slummy part of town, painted bright green with a large courtyard in the center.   We entered and I told them who I was - they were expecting me and we were only 15 minutes late (practically early by IST-Indian Standard Time).  I sat down with Suneeta, the adoption coordinator for the orphanage and she explained to us at that time that they were experiencing a power blackout (rolling blackouts are commonplace in India) and also their generator was out of order.  So no aircon, no ceiling fans, and guaranteed sheer misery. 

To those of you who are unfamiliar with the weather in this part of the world, it may not be possible to relate just what a hellhole climatically-speaking is the city of Chennai.  It is  coastal city on the Indian Ocean - with dewpoints in the gozillions and heat topping 95 to 100 degrees much of the year, April being no exception. 

So after signing some paperwork they took us back to see the children.  I had brought along candy and stickers.  My father visited the orphanage last year to see Junior.  When he came back, he told me it was a depressing place.  I have to agree.  The walls, though brightly painted shades of blue and pink and green, were also bare and dirty.  The furniture consisted of two rows of steel cribs and two armoirs.    There was a large open floor area where the children could play.  Junior shared these accomodations with about 7 or 8 other girls who looked to be anywhere from 2 to 5 years old, with the exception of one girl who had severe Down's syndrome and was pretty tall.  My guess is that she was closer to 10 but functioned like a very agressive 5 year old.

All of the children flocked to my cousin and me, all except for Junior that is.  She knew who I was and what I was doing there and wanted nothing to do with it.  That came as no surprise.  She didn't want to leave the only home and family she knew, and the other children did not want to lose her either.  After only a few minutes, once the children devoured candy round #1, one girl walked right up to me and hold up her arms in the universal child's demand to be picked up and held.  The coordinator advised me to hold all of the children one at  time and then Junior would eventually come to me.  I had my doubts but complied and hoped I had enough lice shampoo for both Junior and me if it came to that.  Multiple rounds of candy followed, along with demands that I continually pour glasses of water for them.  The all shared the same glass.  These children must have immune systems of krypton.

Children are always interesting, and these were no exception.  It didn't take long for me to sort out the personalities.  As the ayas (caregivers) led them in song and asked them to demonstrate their knowledge to me, I was struck by how wonderful and tragic a moment I was witnessing.  Many of these children were also bound for new homes overseas like Junior.  But thinking about the loss they have aleady suffered in their short lives, the heartbreaking choices their birth mothers must have made to leave them in the hands of strangers, it makes me choke up every time.  It still bothers me when people tell me how lucky she is; I always respond that it there is any luck involved, then I am the lucky one.  Parents of birth children strive to have children that are resilient and can withstand adversity.  How resilient must a child be, I ask you, to survive what these children must? 

OK - getting off the soapbox now.

During the two hours with the children, feeling soggy, sweaty and filled with anxiety,  I also got my first kisses from Junior along with her first words from her  - "Thank you!" said with that million-dollar smile that you have seen by now. 

Before we could officially leave the orphanage, however, I had to have a sit-down with the orphanage director, Mrs. Maida.  This woman was formidable, and scared me more than a little.  She asked me all sorts of personal questions, some feeling fine and others somewhat invasive: like how old I was, whether I was single (but not why, thank goodness), where I lived, what my work was, etc... When I told her that I had been granted 3 months' leave she was very impressed.  Three cheers for the General! 

Then the conversation turned to how she started at the orphanage, which was really interesting.  She had been in a bad marriage due to abusive mother in law and sisters in law, then tried unsuccessful suicide twice.  "God saved me," she said.  At some point after that, a woman came upon her as she was standing on her verandah - she had also left an abusive marriage, had a new baby and was desperate.  Mrs. Maida counseled her not to harm herself or the baby and invited her to stay the night to think it over.  The women agreed, but left in the middle of the night and left the baby.  When Mrs. Maida tried to find social services for the baby she says there didn't appear to be any so she decided that would be her life's work.  She considered it a calling from god, which doesn't sound too far off the mark. 

She then turned the conversation around to how hard it was to keep the place running, that they had 160 people to feed every day, etc...  I got the distinct feeling that there was no way I was going to get out of that office unless and until I pledged to donate and even become a sponsor.  As a last formality, I was handed a book in which I was to record my visit, its purpose, my feedback about the orphanage, my email adress and (gasp) my Facebook page.  Most of my work friends don't even get my FB.  I told a little fib and said "I'm not on Facebook."  I felt guilty about lying to people doing god's work, but I did pledge to donate to the orphanage now that there would be no appearance of impropriety, so maybe this will record as neutral on my karmic ledger.

 Don't get me wrong, the people there seemed dedicated to these children and their welfare.  This orphanage actually has a lot of other things going on besides being an orphanage.  There is a school for what I am sure are very low income children, a battered women's shelter, and other development programs for women and children.  But I think I need to draw the line at my privacy - the orphanage just doesn't need to know why and wherefore I snark.

At this point I had been following Junior around the orphanage and was now instructed to pick her up, get in the car quickly, shut the door and have the driver  slowly pull away.  People were coming out of every door leading out to the courtyard to say goodbye and Junior started to cry.  I too had a lump in my throat.  She cried for about five minutes, but then stopped, as if she understood that the crying wouldn't do much for her. 

We drove back to the hotel.  She was wearing the classic "airport frock," - a stiff, bright blue number made from cheapest, godawful polyester with gold sequins all over and a ratty pair of Disney sports sandals. 

After Skyping with Rain we took a bath, put on some new clothes (which Junior tried to tell me she did not want, as she kept holding up her and and shaking her head no), and snacked on some fruit and cookies.   The bath did not go without incident - the hotel room's bathroom had only a standup shower, which I am sure she's never seen before.  Seeing a drain in the floor, she squatted down, which I assumed meant she was about to go #1.  Wrong...after a few seconds I realized what was happening - she was taking a dump on the shower floor.  Oh crap.  I picked her up, told her no and put her on the toilet, where she resumed her business.  I was still left with the mess to clean up.  The whole incident was so reminiscent of Rain's first diaper change that I was sure it couldn't have been a coincidence.

We went down for dinner, where Junior consumed an ENORMOUS amount of food, and went to bed.  I was delighted to learn that Junior knew how to brush her teeth and really was potty trained - despite the shower incident (after all, she didn't go in her pants).

Our flight was the next evening, so we passed the day by going to a mall, getting a complimentary foot massage at the hotel, and doing little else.  If all went well we'd be back to the hotel by 10pm.  We had a confirmation of the visa appointment at the US Embassy the the next morning.  

Of course all did not go well.  Out flight was delayed by 90 minutes, and when we were finally allowed to board, the airline put us on a shuttle bus that was packed like sardines.  Junior took one look around and started bawling her head off.  I kindly young man took pity on me and offered up his seat.  We arrived at the plane and then...nothing...it was deathly hot and humid and yet the doors were not opening to let us out and onto the airplane.  Why?  I looked out the window and was incredulous to see that people were still deplaning from the earlier flight!  15 interminable minutes later, Junior never having stopped crying, they opened the doors to let us off.  Of course, once the doors opened she was silent.  The flight took off and upon arriving over Delhi was placed in a holding pattern for 30 minutes.  Of course.  At least Junior slept through most of the flight. 

We finally got to our hotel at midnight on Wednesday night.  Our visa appointment was for 9am the next morning and we needed to leave the hotel by 7:30am according to the nice-but-worry-warty lady who would be escorting us.  Junior was so tired I let her sleep but then we had to rush to get ready, have breakfast and print off a confimation email from the Embassy.  Without it, we wouldn’t get past the front door.  Needless to say, Mrs. Worrywort totally overestimated the time it took to get to the Embassy.  It was early enough that traffic was still pretty light.  So much so that our driver was taking the South New Delhi roundabouts a leetle too fast.  As we neared the US Embassy, Junior lost her breakfast all over me.  I told the driver to pull over and I used half a pack of baby wipes to clean me, Junior and her doll.  We looked ok, but there was nothing we could do about the smell...

The visa appointment went without incident, but the same could not be said for the next hurdle: the medical appointment: Junior had to have a skin TB test – that much we knew about.  What we did not know was that despite having paid my agency to ensure that Junior had all required vaccinations well in advance of my arrival, she still needed a chicken pox shot.  So now Junior had to have two shots instead of one.  The poor kid screamed her head off for the first shot and then, as if it were even possible, screamed louder for the second one.  She was having a rough day...

We returned to the hotel and had a quiet afternoon yesterday.  Today (Friday) has been just the two of us plus meeting the family at a local park.  We had ice cream bars, returned to the hotel for dinner and now Junior is sleeping.  When it's just the two of us, she has been singing, dancing, playing games, and just generally being really adorable...it's when others are around that she really clams up.  I look forward to the day when she has adjusted enough so that others see what I have been - she's a delightful child.

Tomorrow we return to the clinic to have the results of the TB test completed and documented, and the final visa appointment on Monday.  Then leave for home on Wednesday. 

For next time, I will share what the geniuses at KLM did with our return trip reservations...I think tomorrow I need to stop by a temple to dedicated to the Hindu god Ganesh (the one with the elephant head).  He is the remover of obstacles and clearly I need to make an offering.