Worth the Wait

Hannah has been in our arms six weeks now.  Wow.  SIX weeks!  In two days she will have been home one full month (just prior to her first birthday home!).  It is hard to believe in so many ways.  In a lot of ways it feels like she has just always been here, so it seems like she's been here longer than that.  Other ways it feels like she literally just got here and I cannot believe it has already been almost a full month home from China. Whether it has gone by fast or gone by slow, one thing is for sure.  It has been worth the wait to watch her blossom and change.

If you know anything about the Burris family, you know we are those classic "homeschool" people who have a total love affair with books.  We love books.  We love the library.  We max out our library cards and have to shuffle around what card we use to check things out so we don't go over our limit.  Loving to read and reading with Mommy in our home...well....it is just sort of required.

I tried reading to Hannah in China.  I packed two of our favorites that I had hoped with grab her attention, but she wanted nothing to do with them.  Too much closeness, too much slow paced sitting, not enough comprehending.  Reading was just too much for her then.  I didn't really force the issue.  Then we got home and it still really wasn't her thing, but boy the other kids wanted to read....a lot.  She wasn't too keen on that initially since me reading stole attention away from her, yet she didn't want to sit in my lap to participate either.  I finally found one book that grabbed her attention that she would sit through from start to finish (for those wondering, it was Pajama Time by Sandra Boynton).  She really liked the rhythm of this book and that I would bounce her in my lap according to the words and point to the various colors and types of PJ's.  I seized on that opportunity and we read that book many times.  Thankfully the twins had long discarded this old board book for more advanced picture books and so they were actually really thrilled to get it back out and enjoy it with new pleasure.  We all had a lot of fun reading that over and over.

When the twins were first born they didn't really love books, either.  And so I prayed about it.  I prayed for them to enjoy the closeness of a good book.  I did the same with Hannah.  People might think that is silly or crazy, but I know God cares about even the silliest of details.  I wanted her to love books alongside the rest of us.  And He heard.  And answered.

Five weeks in our arms, I took the picture posted below.  Hannah, sitting on my lap, not just simply tolerating the nap time routine of reading, but enjoying it.  Relishing it.  Pointing at pictures and resting so fully relaxed and close while we read four books that afternoon.  For me, I had waited five weeks for this moment to come.  I won't say she has the deep passion for books our older kids have just yet, but I see her catching on that books are really quite wonderful ways to spend time with Mommy and family.  I see the interest blooming and the comprehension exploding.  She has it in her, the ability to love books.  It will blossom and grow over time.  For me, it was all worth the wait.....

For the first time ever, five weeks home, Hannah not just tolerating a session of reading!  Engaging and finding joy in the story!

Security in Routine

The early days were hard, but then we started to settle in and find our groove.  Hannah got more comfortable in our house and I got more comfortable with her in it (knowing what she could or could not get into, etc.).  We worked through some of those early frustrations of being a new sibling and started to find joy in being together.  I took a big gulp and made the transition back to schooling Jacob.  The first few days of that were especially difficult, but as with all other things, we have found our groove with school again and Hannah handles it like a pro (most of the time).  Play Doh was a huge life saver for school!  And she has learned to sign when she wants to write with pencil and paper and she does a lot of both of those through our school sessions.  I passed the baton of mathematics to Daddy, so he handles all of those lessons on the weekends or a couple evenings a week and then I handle all the other subjects in the mornings.  It has allowed us to have a much slower paced morning, not having to get started immediately, and keeps my focused time on school shorter, thus allowing me to focus on Hannah as needed.  So far this is working for us!  Hannah seems to know the routine each day and thrives on it.  She's got the get up, eat breakfast, get dressed, start laundry, brush teeth thing down pat (and reminds me if I do it in the wrong order or deviate in any way).  She understands the clean up routine after lunch leads into the quiet time of snuggling to read books and generally falls asleep for her nap fairly quickly (she still has to be rocked to sleep).  Her naps are getting a little longer each day (security, safety, routine=more restful sleep).  She knows when Daddy gets home it is wild chaos playing time and has really started to warm up well to him.  We eat dinner and then Daddy mans the bath and PJ's portion of her day (and let me tell you, you do NOT skip bath with her).  She eats her night time candy (melatonin chews) and then knows it is Bible story time, prayer, and singing.  She asks for Jesus Loves Me every night.

For a child that has undergone what she has experienced in the last month, there is a lot to be said for establishing a secure routine.  There is safety for her in this routine because she knows exactly what comes next.  She knows when meals will happen and when "formal" snacks will happen.  She knows that in between those snack and meal times she has access to her Cheerio cup and drink at all times.  Changing the routine leaves way too much unexpected out there for her...she isn't sure if meals will still happen as planned or if her little world will be changing or remain the same.  For the most part, during this time of cocooning, it is really simple to keep her routine unchanged each day.  We don't deviate because we aren't going anywhere!  I will say that for a child like Hannah, who needs this security in her routine, even the weekends present a new set of struggles.  We haven't had enough weekends back home in America yet to fully establish the "routine" of a full week--weekdays and weekends included.  Saturday and Sunday are confusing to her.  She doesn't understand why Daddy is here when she wakes up, why our get ready routine in the morning is slower and different, why we don't have school, etc.  So there is some uneasiness still to work through on the weekends.  Once she has experienced more full weeks with us at home, she will get that natural rhythm of what Monday through Friday looks like and what Saturday and Sunday look like.  Weekends are a little difficult right now.  We generally see more behavior problems and just a more demanding attitude in general.  It will come.  In time.

She is learning that Mommy can do chores around the house and still pay attention to her.  She enjoys helping with laundry and like all of our other kids, she loves to help me work in the kitchen.

So now, weeks two through (just shy) of four at home, there is a growing sense of security and peace.  Don't get me wrong.  We have days.  Bad days.  We had one day that was about as bad as China days.  But we worked through it and the process of moving forward began again.  No more unexpected.  We are here to stay.  Safety.  Security.  Loved.  Cherished.  Forever.

Safety and security in her role as little sister.  Honestly, she can be really mean to these guys right now as she figures out how to play and be a sister.  They teach us daily how to be compassionate and loving.  True pictures of unconditional love in each one of them.  Really proud of them and the safety they provide Hannah has she learns about sisterhood.

 Safety and security in the expected each morning.  Helping Mama do her chores!

 Safety and security in the provision of meals and snacks at expected times each day.

Safety realizing she can be involved in Mama's chores and not be left out.  She loves to help bake!

The Early Days Home

The early days home (maybe the first one to one and a half weeks) are a blur now that I try to look back on them.  I feel like I say this a lot about our adoption process, but it was hard.  Not the kind of hard that makes you give up and run, but the kind of hard that makes you feel really rewarded once you press through it.  We had a lot to overcome in those early days home.  And it was hard.  Chaos.  Disastrous.  Just like it would be any time you bring a new child into the family.  Routines had to change.  Structure of the home had to change.  It was a lot of change...and stretching....and growing and some of that was easier than other parts.

First, we had jet lag to deal with.  China is 13 hours ahead at this time of year.  That is a huge change in the 'ole sleep pattern to make with a 23 month old child.  Second, Hannah had never slept outside our bed (or the foster parent's bed) and now that we were home, I wanted to change that (she now sleeps in a pack 'n play, in our room, right where she can see us).  Hannah also had been the only child in her foster home and from the photos we have of that home, there did not seem to be a true abundance of toys.  Now we are home...and there are more toys than she knows what to do with...and three other kids who want to share them.  So we're overstimulated by the toys, trying to learn how to share, and trying to learn how to play with them correctly, period.  It was a lot for her senses to take in.

Our home was the third location we had taken Hannah in two weeks time.  Two hotels in China, several flights, many van rides, and now, suddenly our home.  She did not know what to think and was not settled with it.  She seemed on edge and angry, probably wondering when we would pack up and leave again.  Her anger with us reached a boiling point in these early days.  We were all very tired and emotionally drained, which only compounded the anger.  I had three children who had missed me and needed me desperately, but there was Hannah, who didn't know how to share me with them and was so terrified and so angry...  I didn't know how to spread myself amongst all of them and felt like I was falling apart (I still do feel this way to some degree).  As you would do after giving birth, you shed some hormonal tears.  I shed post-adoption tears.  Lots of 'em.  Once, I fell apart so badly my poor mother had to literally put all my pieces back together and tell me I was not going crazy and that it would get better.  She was right.  The exhaustion was real and the emotions were so raw in those early days....for all of us. 

Once we got a good week or so of routine under our belts we started to find some security in the safety of our home, the trust that comes from doing the same thing each day.  Hannah thrives on routine.  She gets easily flustered and upset when we deviate, even in small ways, right now.  She likes to know what to expect and what will come next.  She does not like change.  Even weekends are hard right now because our routine is just that much altered. 

The early days were dark for me.  I cried.  A lot.  I prayed.  A lot.  Was I depressed?  No.  But I was truly overwhelmed by what we had tackled.  I was struggling with inadequacy.  I doubted my ability to do it.  And then He came and spoke to my weary heart and reminded me.  I couldn't do it and I didn't have to do it.  I needed Him.  He does it.  Each day, He does it for me because I simply can't.

So, how were the early days?  They were hard, but by the grace and strength of God each one of us got through it and we see how He used those days to build into us what we need for each day that continues to come.

The weather was really nice for a day or two after we got home.  This was taken two days home.  First time exploring the backyard.

Grief from the Parent's Perspective

So yesterday I wrote a very honest post about grief and Hannah's grief in particular.  She isn't a mold, so no adoptive child will ever quite match her expressions of grief.  We have been fortunate enough, though, to connect with other adoptive families who have adopted children who fit the "angry grief" category more than others.  They are all in various ages and stages of the process of adoption and connecting with them has been such encouragement to us!  There is hope, y'all.  She will (and we will) come through the angry part.  And let me tell you, from what I see from these other families, it is good.  Like, good-good, go adopt again, good.  That speaks volumes to us.  Pouring in and building trust is going to get us to the really good stuff.  So we pour in.  And build trust.

I mentioned yesterday that it is hard to experience the grief alongside your child.  I wanted to write a little more about our experience, from the parent perspective, about what makes it hard.  You know, I am going to be totally honest about my naive thinking.  When we sought to adopt a child and we learned about the grief the child would experience, I never once thought that I, personally, would be riding the grief train right alongside that child.  Nope.  Never once did that cross my mind.  Yes, sure, I saw myself there, with the child, helping them get through it.  I just never thought I'd be in it too, experiencing it too.  Not just a witness or an assistance tagging along, but a fully involved participant.  I wasn't really ready for that.  I have to tell you, there are days that I wake up and I think, I am here, in my home, in my safe place with my safe people, I am not in the mood to grieve today.  Currently, that is not a choice I get to make.  If Hannah grieves, I grieve (honestly, we all grieve).  Sometimes I can get whiplash from the rapidly changing moods and moments of grief and like most things with kids, grief almost always comes at the most challenging of times (sitting on the toilet, for example, or elbow deep in raw chicken meat, or burning food in the oven).  The only way to experience it is to fully experience with her and move with her through it--right then--at that moment when she needs it.  It is exhausting, but so rewarding when she looks deep into your eyes (she can seriously look way deep inside you) after the moment has passed and sees that you are still there, still loving, still present and willing to remain there--in the muddy icky messiness that is grief.  It is almost this look of "Oh!  Wow.  You're still there?  Huh.  Perhaps there is something to you....." 

We have seen a big change in her grief since China....in China, she wanted to thrash on the floor alone.  Kick, scream, hit the floor--all that.  We would try to pick her up or comfort her and that wasn't acceptable.  We would just speak love over her and try to pat her back, eventually picking her up once she was calm enough.  Even when we first got home she was this way.  As a parent, this is incredibly hard.  You feel very powerless and helpless.  Now, three weeks at home?  I will move her to her "safe" place to get all of that out when I see it coming and she will immediately jump up and come right back to me.  She wants to be held now...close...and patted.  She wants me to comfort her.  She wants to scream and cry and let the tears flow, but she doesn't want to do it alone anymore.  The thrashing on the floor days are drawing to a close and now she is letting me in.  Because I sat through all those thrashing on the floor days and stayed present, even when she acted like she didn't want me to.  Now, she wants to open up and let me in to see how hard and ugly it is.  Sometimes I don't want to see how hard and ugly it is, but I am so thrilled she seeks me out, wants those arms around my neck and her head on my shoulder.  I am safe.  I am earning her trust.  She is giving me tiny specks of her heart.  And that is what I tell her as she sobs and screams against me.  "You are safe.  You are loved.  We love you.  You are home and it is going to be okay."

I will also be honest and say I do not always get it right.  I am not superhuman.  I rely heavily on the Holy Spirit to guide me and cry out to my prayer warriors often to intercede in tough stuff.  I fail.  I get it wrong.  I react harshly or perhaps in a way I might react to my biological children.  I lecture (ha, ha, I am sure I sound like the Peanuts teacher when I do this to her....).  I sometimes raise my voice (big post adoption no-no).  My parenting style has had to change and that makes my brain really, really, really think.  A lot.  I am constantly looking to see what needs to be improved, what I can do better.  We want to allow her to express how angry she is (I mean, let's be real....at this point in time the girl is totally allowed to be pretty upset about the current situation), yet we want her to do it in more productive ways (like, not hitting people, but hitting an object instead).  Anger is not the enemy right now.  Anger is acceptable.  It is how we express anger that needs to be adjusted and that can be challenging with a little one, limited language, and limited understanding of the emotions she is feeling.

As a parent, this is all very hard.  I have moments of full clarity.  I see it from her perspective.  My heart breaks and is fully present with her through it.  I get it.  I don't take it personally.  We get through the moment and move on.  This happens many times throughout the day.  When I am fresh (first thing in the day or first thing after a good, long nap), I have my better moments in responding.  I am better able to see it, put myself in her shoes, and move through it the best way we know how.  As the day wears on and I am dealing with various other things (needy "middle" kids who just need more of me now, or fighting siblings, or homeschool, or dishes, or laundry....you know the list), I get to the point where I am not so fully able to have that clarity.  I get frustrated.  It feels like a personal attack.  I get offended or take things personally.  Often her grief feels like disrespect toward Chris and I and well, that is just something we have never tolerated.  We won't tolerate it now, either, but our response needs to look a little different. 

Adoptive parent in the trenches with an angry griever, know you are not alone.  You do not fight this battle everyday alone.  That is what this is.  It is a battle for her heart.  I am pretty stubborn and I fully intend to win that little heart over.  It will never be the same little heart she was born with because it has been broken so many times, but what remains, I want it.  And I'm willing to fight for it.  I want it so I can shape and mold it.  Teach it about love, family, safety, security--and the assurance that while we provide those things for her, there is an even greater Father who can provide them even more and He will never fail, not like I do.  I pray that I continue to earn little bits of her heart so that I can turn those little bits over to Him.  I cannot wait to see how He continues to work and unfold all of this.

Grief

When we prepared for our adoption, we learned all kinds of things about grief and the emotions our adopted child would experience throughout the process, beginning very early, in China.  We are so thankful for all they did to prepare us.  Prepared as we were, we were still somewhat shocked and caught off guard by the way Hannah experiences and expressed grief (and continues to experience and express grief).  We want to share our experiences, not to scare anyone or drive them from the thought of adoption, but to be totally open and honest so that others can be fully prepared.  This is meant more for Hannah to one day look back on and her grief was a very real part of the journey.  Failing to write about it would be leaving out a huge part of the journey to who she will one day be.  We found the more we were prepared and the lower our expectations were, the better the outcome always was.  We hope by sharing we are allowing others to become more prepared for their own journeys with their children.  God uniquely designed us to experience grief (and joy and all the other great stuff).  It isn't something to hide from or be ashamed of.  It is a very real process...and necessary...in order to fully move forward with life.

As a refresher to us all, there are five stages of grief.  You do not necessarily move through them unilaterally.  You do not have to go through them in order.  You may spend more time in one stage than you do in others.  You might gloss over one stage and then be caught off guard to find you have returned.  There is not one set way to experience grief.  You can't grieve in a way that is right or wrong. Hannah was blessed to be in a foster home.  Her grief is a very real reflection of the life she lost there--the people, the home, the love she experienced there.  We were warned that foster care kiddos grieve a lot deeper and harder, especially in the early days, but that on the other side of things, the bond and attachment would be just that much deeper and true.  We are finding this to be true of Hannah, as well.  So as a reminder, the five stages of grief:
1.) Isolation and Denial
2.) Anger
3.) Bargaining
4.) Depression
5.)Acceptance

We have seen many of these from Hannah.  Her energy seems to be more focused on one stage over the others, but we have seen glimpses from each stage with her.  Her denial was very short lived and lasted probably the first 24-36 hours in China.  She was able to giggle and play with us those first few minutes and days, but it was as if she thought we were just simply babysitters.  Once she realized we were there to stay (and she was too) things took a drastic turn and the grief began.

I have mentioned several times to people that China was hard for us.  Very hard.  It was hard in a myriad of ways--the culture shock, the jet lag, the lack of access to food (regardless of what kind, it was hard to get to and find in province!), hotel dwelling, living out of a suitcase, feeling isolated and alone, missing our kids, missing our families, missing home (no, LONGING for home), feeling judged for making cultural parenting mistakes, feeling somewhat incompetent as a parent altogether.  I could go on and on.  All of those things made China hard for us (and many of those things likely make America hard for Hannah, now).  However, probably one of the hardest (scratch that--it was THE hardest thing) part of China was experiencing Hannah's grief with her and not knowing how to respond.  I will be honest.  We expected grief from her like most of us picture it.  Tears.  Sadness.  Lack of appetite.  Sleep disturbance.  General lack of happiness.  While we did have some of those issues (certainly not the lack of appetite though!), Hannah skipped right on ahead to stage two of grief almost immediately.  She was angry.  Very, very angry.  Angry in a 23 month old child in ways I had no idea were possible.  And the anger was hard.  And shocking.  And also at times, intimidating, to me.  At first, your response to anger is compassion.  After a while, it draws out shocking emotions within yourself, as well.  And compassion is dwindling.  And annoyance is brewing.  And you are losing sense of why you are here or what you have done and you seriously wonder if any of you will come out of it okay.  It is in those moments that you have to be totally secure in your call to adopt.  You have to trust that God called you directly to the spot you are in and that He will certainly not leave you there alone.  Hannah is a fighter...an angry fighter.

Look at it like this.  She isn't quite two yet.  She doesn't understand what is happening to her.  Basically, in her mind, she has been abducted.  A much wiser, seasoned adoptive mama reached out to me while we were in China to bring me comfort about Hannah's rage.  She reminded me of things I knew in my head, but needed to get to communicate with my heart.  Rage is a good sign.  Rage shows she doesn't want to be there, that she wants to get back to the people she loved.  It shows she was bonded.  In the world of adoption, bonding is a huge issue.  A child who was once bonded has a fairly good shot of transferring that bond to the adoptive parents.  Her rage showed us she was and is capable of bonding.  Once we earn her trust, that bond will transfer to us.  And our relationship will be far more secure than it could be otherwise.  Think of it also like this.  If someone came and took Grace from us....put her in a van, showed her pictures of her new mommy and daddy and then within a 20 minute appointment left her with these people who look nothing like her or speak her language or eat her food....and then locked her in a hotel room with them for days.  What would we want her to do?  Warm right up to them and climb in their laps and just simply accept her new circumstances?  No way!  We'd want that girl to fight and do the meanest, nastiest, ugliest things she could dream up to do to them to get them to get away from her!  We'd want her to do things she would never do here at home (or has never done).  Anything!  To get away!  That is precisely what we saw (and still see to some degree) with Hannah.

None of what Hannah does (or did) is shocking or alarming.  It is hard to see these things come out of a 23 month old child.  It is hard because we know we can do nothing but remain patient and present.  I share her grief, not to embarrass her down the road, but to show how deeply wounded she was and how far we know she will eventually come.  She loved her foster family and loving us would not come without a fight.  She did (and does) all kinds of things to us, against us, in front of us, to try to drive us, her abductors, away.  She had no self control....at all.  Temper tantrums were always brewing just under the surface.  We could not say no or redirect her in anyway without some form of consequence.  She would hit us...often.  She bit us (thankfully we left that little goodie in China).  She can't really spit on us because she has a cleft lip, so she did the next best thing and filled her hands with spit and would fling it at us.  She would scream (like out of body, loss of control, no sense of where she was of what she was doing) screaming for no apparent reason.  She would throw things and food.  She pulled hair.  She cusses...in this uniquely Chinese cultural way (no words, more actions--think of the American version of giving someone the middle finger---it is on the same level).  She would thrash around on the floor and kick, intentionally trying to get close enough to kick someone or something.  She would go ballistic with massive emotional meltdowns each and every time we returned to the hotel room (her jail cell, we assume is how she viewed it).  Grief is hard.  Ugly.  Necessary.....  Experiencing grief alongside the child you have prayed for, longed for, and worked so hard to get to is hard.  Ugly.  Necessary.....

Three weeks home and has Hannah's grief ended?  No.  Is it as bad as it was in China?  Not presently.  Could it return at any given moment?  You betcha'.  Dealing with grief is like dancing.  We take one step forward and then go two steps back.  Negative behaviors disappear and then magically reappear out of nowhere.  New issues crop up (like sleep disturbance....had none of that in China and we are now seeing it here at home).  When will Hannah's grief end?  I don't know.  Only God knows.  We will likely face various parts and stages of grief for all of Hannah's life.  Will it be an everyday occurrence?  No, but there will likely be times and stages of her life that it will come bursting out.  We make strides each day to help her overcome her grief and find that place called acceptance.  The only prescription for that is time.  And trust.  Lots of building trust.  Which is why we are doing this thing called "cocooning" (another post on this later).  Cocooning is just giving us dividends into that trust bank, the security bank, the safety bank.  Routine and security here will make it possible for there to eventually be security and safety outside our home.

Grief is so hard.  It is hard to experience.  It is hard to witness.  It is hard to live through.  It is hard to be on the receiving end of her grief, but we serve the most awesome God....the God who heals and brings joy each morning.  We know none of this is outside His realm of power.  And we know that one day soon, Hannah will experience the depth of peace that can come only from Him.  Peace that passes all understanding.

Would you please continue to pray for our girl?  Pray for all of us as we play our role in helping her dance her way through the stages of grief.  She is a fighter and we have the power of Jesus on our side.  She is brave and strong.  She will overcome and she will know peace....and joy.  We already see the joy coming in.

Hannah four weeks ago on Gotcha Day in China.

and.....

Hannah now.  This was taken at two weeks home, three weeks in our arms.

God can do mighty things!  Even in the midst and depth of grief.  He can and is working.  Through all the ugly and hard.  We are so blessed He chose us to be the ones to dance this dance with her.

Arrival Video

I wanted to somehow post this video directly here, but can't seem to figure it out.  Here is the link to it.  A friend of ours from church spent a lot of time on this for us....and it is truly going to be a treasure to us forever!  We hope you enjoy it!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j1cvViZM0bU&feature=youtu.be&app=desktop

Leaving on a Jet Plane

On February 5, 2015 we began the long, arduous journey to get back home to the United States.  It would take us thirty hours from the time we left the hotel to the time we touched down in Lexington and I was a mixed bag of emotions.  I simply could not wait to be home, couldn't wait to see the kids, couldn't wait to be in my own bed and not living out of suitcases and have access to my full kitchen.  Yet at the same time I did NOT want to get on that plane.  It was a hard flight for just Chris and I.  I knew it would simply be misery with Hannah.  And we had only a lap ticket for her.  I just knew it was going to be torture for all of us and all our fellow passengers.  Hannah's grief came in the form of fighting and she had certainly not given up the battle at this point.  I just never knew what she would do or when she would do it or if we'd be able to calm her down or contain her.  Thirty hours of traveling....I knew we were in for some major meltdowns.

The bellboy came to collect our bags at 5:40AM and we had to be ready to get on the van for the airport in the lobby by 6:15.  We had a really fast breakfast (the buffet opened at 6) and headed out.  I will not lie.  I cried and got frustrated more than once before we even left the hotel room.  I sobbed like a psycho crazed woman in the Guangzhou airport more than once before we even boarded our first flight and Hannah threw down more than once in the Guangzhou airport.  I just knew....what a day.  I was terrified and so was she.

The first leg of the journey was an inter-country flight from Guangzhou to Shanghai.  We were on that flight with three other adoptive families, so that brought me some comfort, but it was still worrisome.  We climbed on and Hannah got mad.  No, not just mad.  M-A-D.  The thrashing sort of mad.  I knew she was tired and thankfully the mad lasted just a short time and we were able to shush her to sleep.  She slept almost the whole flight to Shanghai.

Once in Shanghai we had something crazy like a four hour lay over.  Or maybe it was five?  It all blurs at this point.  She was hungry.  And got tired.  But we did NOT want that baby going to sleep in Shanghai!  Not with a 14 hour flight ahead of us.  No ma'am, no sleeping in Shanghai!  We had to claim all our luggage, go through customs, and then recheck our luggage for the flight home.  Great news?  We were too early to check in, so we were stuck, outside the gate area (where the decent food and such is located) with our huge, overflowing cart full of luggage for two full hours.  Yippee.  Hear my sarcasm?  Again, traveling with other adoptive families made it easy to divide and conquer...using the restroom or going off to get food, without having to take the massive luggage cart along too.  Hannah had fun playing with the other kids and we ran her little legs off.  Work it out, girlie!  You are about to be trapped for a longest stretch of time known to man.

When we checked in for our flight, they issued our ticket and seats.  As an after thought I asked the agent if these seats included the bassinet for Hannah.  Our travel guide had said he would request one, but that it wasn't a guarantee.  Again, we had purchased only a lap ticket for Hannah.  We were praying there would be an empty seat in our row to allow us a little bit of wiggle room.  The agent quickly said no, our ticketed seats were not for a bassinet, but she made a call to the gate and they said they would accommodate us.  They changed our seats!  It is a total God thing that I asked.

I had begged many to cover our trip home in prayer.  I knew we couldn't do it on our own.  I will tell you this is one area we saw God come out in a BIG way.  Our journey home couldn't have been more pleasant (unless it only took us a couple hours).  When we got on the plane, we found we were in a bulk head row (so the front of the line for that particular row).  This was great.  Extra leg room and room for Hannah to walk around in front of us, with NO SEATS in front of us for her to kick or pull on (we'd already had that issue on one of our shorter flights).  It was a four seat row and we were assigned two of those seats.  The plane continued to fill and I was certain at least one person would come and sit down with us.  Praise God, no one ever came!  We had a four seat row completely to ourselves, on the bulk head!  God knew just what my shot nerves needed to make that flight home work.  Once we were in flight and certain no one was joining us, our stewardess was happy to tell us to take over the full row.  I sat on one end, Chris on the other, and we were able to lay Hannah completely down on the two seats between us.  She slept for a good four hours at the start of the flight, was awake for a couple, slept another chunk, and was then awake for the final couple hours.  Another blessing was that tailwinds were in our favor and what was a 14.5 hour trip on the way over, was only 12 on the way home.  YES!  Chris and I didn't sleep much, but we were able to at least relax and not have to hold Hannah the whole time.  The people behind us were very friendly and didn't mind her endless game of peek-a-boo for the final 45 minutes or so.  Seriously.  We could not have asked for a better flight than that.  I was able to eat (I didn't think i was going to be able to, since food was such an issue and I was concerned about space), Hannah slept, bathroom trips worked semi-well (try taking at two year old with you to potty on an airplane.  Not a whole lotta' space in there).  I know she cried and fussed a couple times, but nothing that made my face turn red or the sweat start to roll.  I can't really remember a truly horrendous moment on that flight at all.  What a blessing!  God showed up big time.  The seats, her mood, her demeanor, her sleep....all of it.  HIS HAND ya'll.

Once we touched down in Detroit we were again blessed to be ushered to the "special" lane for customs and didn't have to wait in the massively long line with a kid who really didn't want in the ergo and wanted to stretch her air legs ferociously.  We moved through immigration pretty quickly, claimed luggage, went through another round of customs, and had our bags re-checked in record time.  Oh, did I forget to mention?  Hannah became a US citizen in that moment.  Welcome to America, baby girl!  Your life will forever be changed.

 I think I was delirious from all the travel and high on adrenaline and a touch giddy at this point.  We were in DETROIT, y'all!  Hallelujah and we hadn't made any enemies on the long flight there (or at least I don't think we did.....).  Introducing Hannah Ruth Zhen...the newest American citizen.

We had another long....torturous four hour layover in Detroit.  We knew we needed a good size buffer of time to clear immigration and all that, but once all that was done and we still had three hours looming ahead of us, we were so ready to get home.  All we had at that point was a short little 45 minute flight back to Lexington.  Let's get the show on the road folks!  I want to get HOME.

The "rules" in Detroit were much the same as the "rules" in Shanghai.  Run her little legs off and no sleeping in airports!  We sleep on airplanes, but we most certainly do NOT sleep in airports!  We had a small snack and just paced the corridor by our gate till finally we got to board.  She had another big, I'm mad and tired, fit right when we got on and then went to sleep and slept that whole flight too.  When we began approaching Lexington and I could see the lights, the tears started to flow.  Big, giant, silent tears.  Home.  We were home.  With Hannah.  After all the work leading up to it, the long process, the build up, the anticipation....we were home.  With her.  And we were about to see our kids for the first time in two weeks.  I simply could not hold back the tears.  The sight of them, at the bottom of the escalator....I just couldn't get to them fast enough.

Being in China gave us a healthy dose of culture shock (magnified by the amount of stress and pressure an adoptive family experiences as they undergo such a major change to their family).  The culture shock has helped us feel more sensitive to how Hannah would feel in those early days home.  The sights, sounds, tastes, smells, people, language....all different and so foreign.  And the longing for HOME so powerful, even if this home is a better home in the long run.

Home is a beautiful thing.  We are so grateful to be here.  With Hannah.

Welcome home, Hannah.  Welcome home.

Home, in Lexington, with all our kids in the same place--a family of six!  Such a beautiful thing!