Meeting Gigi

It's now been over 24 hours since we arrived at a government building in Nanning, together with an excited bunch of American families, to meet our little girls. To our surprise, we found them lined up in the arms of their nannies by the entrance, also on their way to the room upstairs where we were to be ceremonially presented to one another. After some additional waiting (what's 15 torturous minutes more when you've waited years?), we filed in, they filed in, and it was quivering lips and tears all around. Moms crying excitedly. Dads tripping over themselves trying to capture the moment with digital camcorders. Little girls--with hair in pig tails, feet in jelly sandals--wailing out for fear and reaching back for their nannies. Gigi was devastated, her face screwed up in agony, letting out rhythmic squeals. With Amy squeezing her tight, we made our way downstairs, behind Gigi’s nanny who was looking back longingly while trying not to let Gigi glimpse her, jumped back on the bus and were off.

That's not the romantic encounter you would expect from such a moment, but we were well primed for it. Most girls, particularly those who have been in foster care or, as we discovered, connected with a particular care giver, experience nothing less than a second rupture in their lives--one that they can actually observe this time. Gigi continued crying all the way back to our hotel room, then for the next hour as we each, in turn, tried to console her. At last she fell asleep on top of Amy, lying face up, arms outstretched, as if she had given up all hope.

The good news: Gigi got better. When she woke up a few hours later, she clung to Amy determinedly and without tears. Since then, she's grown progressively more comfortable--first with others touching her, now with all of us holding her. She's still a delicate flower--emotionally, but especially physically. In truth, the most striking impression she makes is that she's about six months shy developmentally of where she's supposed to be. She can stand and shuffle a bit, she can change hands with an object, but otherwise she has the coordination and muscle mass of a nine-month old. While she's very observant, recognizing even from behind when someone other than her new nanny (Amy) is touching her, she clearly has catching up to do.

The sweetest moment yet was, after a busy 24 hours of learning how to feed Gigi and to talk to her ("Baba bao": Daddy is holding you), signing documents with a notary, presenting her to a doctor for a brief physical, and much more, we finally had an opportunity to bathe her. This evening, we cleaned her top to bottom, wiping away all the tears and cares of her first 15 months, dressed her in new PJs, and put her to bed smothered in all the blankets and pent-up affection that we’ve brought with us. With her hair combed and face glowingly clean, she looks angelic.

More tomorrow.