A Very Sad Day

In my short (and thankfully somewhat guarded) life experience, I do not think I have witnessed anything worse than watching this little girls' heart break right before my eyes. The pain in her face, the sorrow in her tears, the agony in her body movements-pointing and grasping from the bed towards the door-pleading to be taken home in a mixture of Cantonese and Mandarin-not wanting to get ready for bed because it would mean not going back home-thinking that if she does not take her shoes off then she will not be staying-begging pleading whimpering and finally collapsing from exhaustion. This has been the scene for the past couple of days. In between we catch moments of sheer joy and happiness only to see the exact opposite mere moments later. Wren is two people right now and doing all she can to cope with her world being turned completely upside down.

We have made some real progress though, the morning started out really well. She played with her little phone and loves to sing "Two Tigers" in Manadarin (to the tune of "Frère Jacques"), and the absolutely cutest version of "ABC" (yes, I am biased but you have to hear this little voice). She starts out with a huge grin and alternates her fingers pointing in the air and goes, "A,B,C,D,O,O,G..." and then create your own letter and sound combination. We clap when she is done and she gets so excited that an encore performance quickly ensues. It seemed like we had made it over the hill, however success was to be fleeting. We knew we still had an important step to take. We needed to let her say good bye to her past, her foster family.

So many thoughts racing through our heads, we have discussed it since the social worker first brought up that it was a good idea if at all possible, that often they are simply taken from the foster parents abruptly and transferred to the orphanage and then to the adoptive family. Well then, should we or shouldn't we-she's only 2.5-will we lose all that we have gained?-maybe there is some information we could glean- it is what is best for her in the long run-she needs a connection to her past-it is our job to fill in the gaps as best we can-we owe it to her-maybe just one of us can meet the foster parents and record it while the other walks her around? We knew what we needed to do and now the time was fast approaching. She was dressed and ready.

When we rolled up to the orphanage, my impression was it looked like it had had its heyday in the 70's. The neighborhood around it was undergoing construction, massive condos were going up, the rest of the neighborhood looked like something out of "Good Times".

Shana and I had decided on our strategy, I would record and she would walk her around, but then the orphanage director offered to take her so we could both visit with the foster parents when they arrived. We agreed and turned around and there was her foster mother, sobbing, eyes bright red from tears, she instantly went to hold her constant companion for the past 2 years. (the best laid plans...)

Now after watching our child grieve we witnessed the foster mother as well. It was brutal. Thankfully she (foster mom) began talking and criticizing any and all of our parenting skills that came to her mind. So the pain quickly dissipated. Yes, it is possible to get annoyed with someone you are speaking with through an interpreter.

Most of it was just garbage. When we picked up Wren the first day, she had a horrible heat rash on her forehead and backside. Due to her condition she gets hot very easily and can sweat profusely. (shout out to my brother David, here-and speaking of- we have yet another lefty in the Tarver house-I still include my sister in the count because the Fascists changed her in school-sorry, end of segue)

Anyways, she had bad rashes. Rashes caused by heat. Previously we had been told that Wren was potty trained. Turns out it is "squatty" potty (reference picture a few posts ago for reference) trained. Small detail you would think, but it is like being half pregnant. So, Wren is in diapers for 9-12 month year olds. The diapers sag too. The poor thing has no butt at all. She is lips, eyes and bones. Foster Mom (henceforth FM) proceeds to remove said diaper and tell us that they cause rashes. All the while neglecting to see that both heat rashes were gone. So riddle me this, Batman, you are telling me that diapers cause rashes, yet she had rashes without them, and she did not have a diaper on her head. Please stop talking. Next she asks if we are going to take care of her heart issue. Duh. Next question. Wren has a puppy, will you give her a dog? We have cats, does she like cats? Yes, but you need to get her a dog. Hmmmm, would it be offensive if I poke you in the eye right about now? (these are thoughts, nothing I would ever act on mind you, I don't want people to think I go around poking people in the eye, although I have thought about it to be honest, maybe the world would be a better place with random eye poking for the offensive) Now let's see, what else did she say...something about don't give her mango juice because it will make her hot. What science is that?! Ok, let's turn the tables, we have questions for you, FM. Is she afraid of anything? (the dark for example, since she insists on having a light on to go to sleep?) No. Ok, what kind of formula do you give her? (the real question is why are you giving a two and a half year old infant formula) Oh, I see it needs to be scalding hot and only this certain brand. Which the orphanage just happens to have a supply of for only $10. a bag and you will need two bags because there are 8 scoops in each serving and be sure to add some sugar. Sugar?!!!! What is this yogurt drink you brought her? Tastes like cake batter. Any nutrients in this, or will vitamins and iron make her hot too? Now I am told to keep her out of the air conditioning because she will catch a cold. News flash, heat makes her hot and viruses give her a cold. A/C = good. Medicine heals rashes. Let's just say good bye- get the pictures and blow this pop stand. You are making my head hurt.

Saying Good bye

We went outside and I got some final photographs, I am very thankful that she was truly loved, and even though FM was overstepping, in some strange way, her heart was in the right place. Her job was to keep her going until we got there and she did that. She created a loving environment for our daughter and for that I give her credit. She deserved/earned the opportunity for a proper farewell.

I quickly walked the grounds of the park and spotted the bench that one of four the photos we received of Wren was taken at and snapped a picture. I recognized it because it had a statue behind it. It is amazing the detail you abstract from a photo when you only have a precious few. I walked back to the car and Wren yelled, "Baba, Baba!!!!". Foster mom was playing airplane with her, and I got in the van. FM quickly put her in the van in Shana's arms and closed the door. We backed up and went about 5 feet and Wren's face went white, the sorrow was all encompassing. Panic and hysteria overcame her. She tried to open the door to the van and get out, she pleaded for our guides cell phone so she could call them. (quick note- no seat belts or child seats or seat belt and child seat laws in China) She writhed and flailed about as if her heart had been torn out and stomped on before her eyes. She tried to look back and desperately grab air hoping it some way it would allow her to cling to the past, to "...go back to the first chapter" as Winnie the Pooh so aptly put it. Eventually she passed out from exhaustion.

We had one more stop to make in her past. It was the place where she was found and to photograph it. Retrace the steps of where a mother made the impossible decision of giving up her baby for a chance at life as opposed to having her die in her arms. Wren was not yet 6 months old when she with pneumonia, bronchitis, hernia and a congenital heart disorder when she was abandoned-scratch that-left to be immediately found and cared for at the women and children's clinic. Her mother wanted her, but new her love alone could not help her anymore. I walked the grounds and as best I could, tried to figure out where she would have hidden to make sure her baby was discovered quickly. It was carefully planned. Bus stop conveniently located, she probably new the rounds of the local police and so she could time her getaway perfectly while still having the optimal vantage point.

We have it recorded for her now, including a copy of the note found with with her only proclaiming that she was a girl and her birthday, and a copy of the finding photo from the newspaper that is published when children are abandoned. Our work was done. Her past was collected as best we could. I look forward to her the present and future now. I want to leave this place now. It hurts too much.