We Are Family

It's the beginning of week two since we returned from Vietnam. The first week was primarily devoted to recovering from the brutal jet lag that plagued us all. It's one thing for one person to be to be short on sleep and suffering for a few days. You take a few naps and that's pretty much all there is to it. It's something else entirely when a whole family, including two young children, one of whom is brand new to the family, not to mention this country (oh, and we only have a few words in common between us), are all sleep-deprived together. There were a couple of white-knuckle moments, I must admit. But two or three days after we returned, we could feel ourselves starting to be reconstituted and that gave us all some measure of hope and allowed us to be patient with one another. It was a couple of days after that, though, before I started to feel like myself again.

Henry An is doing well. In addition to being naturally funny, he is not easily intimidated. For example, he made friends with the pets right away. He was slightly nervous of our dog, Georgia, on the first day. However, on the second day, he went right up to her and started stroking her back and bent down to give her a kiss. He seems less certain about the cats, but he likes to chase them down and pet them. For a child who has had little to no contact with pets, he couldn't be doing much better.

Greta is already a solid big sister. It's been a challenging adjustment for her to have to share everything and everyone dear to her so suddenly with someone so close in age. I don't think I fully appreciated how this transition would test her. Still, Greta is constantly impressing me with her thoughtfulness. She makes him little things - sews him a small bag to wear around his neck, draws him a picture of an animal she knows he likes - and though she is frustrated with the language barrier, she continues to try to win him over. Sometimes the disappointment of losing our undivided attention overwhelms her and she loses her composure. But I'm very grateful to see her at least practicing the art of being gracious.

The two of them are also starting to gel into a partners-in-crime duo, which, though occasionally aggravating, is actually kind of heart-warming to see.

Each day we become more like the family we imagined we would become when we started this process. Our social worker had told us that in her experience referrals always closely matched the families they are referred to. At the time she said it, it souded like wishful thinking. However, Henry An's personality is so well-suited to our family, it's hard to imagine that he wasn't meant to be with us all along. Like the family who brought him home, he is a clown. I call him the man of a thousand faces, because he's constantly got a series of lively expressions lighting up his face. I sometimes wonder if his expressive face is compensation for the lack of language. His eyebrows, in particular, are constantly gesturing. They point to things that he wants and suggest activities that he suspects are off-limits. It's highly entertaining.

His English is starting to emerge, though, in moments that surprise us. He sings parts of "Happy Birthday" along with Greta. And he's been saying her name for a couple of weeks. He says "No!" to Georgia when she comes up to him at the table, emphasized by a wagging of his finger in her face. He loves airplanes and says the word for them excitedly when he sees them in the sky. We are all suffering somewhat from the lack of a common language between us, so it's encouraging to see that he is making progress. We feel bad that we don't know more Vietnamese, but it's clear that we cannot pronounce correctly the few words that we do know.

Eventually, this feeling of being a brand-new 4-person family will be replaced by the already palpable sense that we were always meant to be together. And that will be both a relief and a loss.

Leaving Vietnam

It's 3:30 in the afternoon, Seattle time, and the family has been napping for several hours now after our marathon travel day yesterday. Crossing the international date-line makes it seem so efficient, all of the pain and frustration of traveling is somehow worthwhile when you can cram it into a 24-hour period and then manage to have the day handed back to you when you arrive home. Of course, we're paying for it a little bit right now.

But it is good to be home, finally. Living in a hotel is no way for active 4 and 5 year-olds to live. They need a home and places to play, not constant reminders to behave in public by stressed-out parents overwhelmed by the details of traveling with children in a foreign country. One of my favorite memories from our trip was when we went out to dinner on our second to last night in Hanoi. Henry An was goofing off and cracking himself and us up (have I mentioned that he's got a very strong sense of humor?). Still, it was getting little out of control and other tourists at the restaurant were starting to glance over in our direction. When the waitress stopped by, Mollia asked her, in apparent seriousness, "Could you please tell him to keep his voice down in Vietnamese?" She wasn't able to get the question out completely before dissolving into laughter. We were all laughing. It was a moment that crystallized the total challenge of our circumstances: there we were, the new parents of a fun-loving 4 year old boy in a sit-down restaurant, unable to even give our child a reminder to behave appropriately in words he could understand. Not to mention that this boy, until he met us only a little more than a week earlier, was hardly accustomed to going out to dinner, let alone knowing what his behavior should be like in this brand new setting. Given his lack of experience, I would say he did pretty darn well.

But as much as it is a relief to be home, finally, it also feels rather sudden too. It's jarring to return to this country from someplace so far away, from a country so different in culture and so needy for things we almost never imagine we might lack. It's beyond a cliche to say that in this country we take what we have for granted, but it is true nevertheless.

It was poignant for me when we flew out of Ho Chi Minh City bound for Taipei. Henry An had the window seat next to me and was looking down at the rapidly receding landscape. I realized that what his four-year old eyes were witnessing were the final moments of his first few years of growing up in Vietnam. I wondered how much he would remember of them and how much he might remember of our trip when we came to get him. And then it occurred to me, for the first time in a real way, how many more opportunities for growing and becoming the person he truly is he would have in America. As much as I came to adore Vietnam during our trip, Henry An's situation of growing up in an orphanage, well cared for as he was, was the very definition of unfortunate. And for the first time since we started this process, I felt truly relieved that we were able to do something about that. While we are hardly well-off, just providing a home for him here in America puts him in a position to do so many things that never would have been possible had he remained in Vietnam. And while I'm very grateful that to be able do something that changes another person's life story so dramatically, I continue to feel like we are the lucky ones for being able to have such a lovely, spirited, and funny boy come into our family. He is the one that is dramatically changing us and for the better. He's added a big, fat chapter to our family story, and I'm so excited to get a chance to read it.

More pictures added today. Click on link for "Our Pictures" above.

We're Coming to America -- Today!

My apologies in advance for the Neil Diamond reference, but that song got stuck in my head as I tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep this morning. I still haven't quite licked the jet lag I arrived with. It's a fitting song for a our situation, I suppose, but probably a bit too Vegas, which is, unfortunately, why I like it so much. I'll need to keep this short before my insecure wireless connection kicks me off the net again.

By some miracle, Mollia was able to get us on a flight back home today. The flights on EVA Air are incredibly booked this time of year, and we were told to not even hope to get a flight before our scheduled departure date on Sunday. But Mollia was having none of that, so we're on our way home. Or will be soon.

We're waking up today in Ho Chi Minh City after an evening flight from Hanoi. We're in the same exact hotel room we stayed in last week. It was fun to bring Henry An back to the room where we first brought him from Tam Binh. He's doing very well and showing more and more personality each day. He is quite a character, as you will all soon learn. I couldn't have imagined a more perfect son for our family. We feel incredibly lucky to have him.

Okay, I said I would keep this short. Check back in a few days to see new pictures and maybe a movie or two. See you all state-side.

Visa "Interview" A Success

The purpose of our trip to Hanoi was to apply for An's American visa at the U.S. Embassy. The process involves a $380.00 fee and an interview. I was a little bit concerned about the interview, since we were asked to complete several confusing federal forms and to also bring copies of our tax returns. This was our last hurdle in being able to bring our son home. So far, the process had been very smooth and I was hoping our good luck would not run out on us. I was assuming that the Embassy would be a stately and impressive building. But it really looked like a nice office building with beefed up security. Once we were in the waiting area, we paid the fee and were told to wait for our names to be called. When we were called, the clerk behind the glass went over a few of the forms we had already submitted and asked me sign them. Then, he told us our visa would be ready by tomorrow at 4:00 pm, provided there were no Vietnamese power-grid failures. That was it. A two-hour flight for a less than 5 minute exchange with a clerk behind bullet-proof glass. I would have been outraged if I weren't so relieved that it had been so painless and that the completion of this step meant we could go home.

We are currently trying to book a flight out before our scheduled departure date on Sunday. Our agency is preparing us to not get our hopes up too high, as our airline tends to have very full flights going back to Seattle. If we can't leave before Sunday, we'll make the best of it and do some sightseeing.

A Little Bit About Henry

Henry, our agency representative in Vietnam, keeps joking about there being a resemblance between An and me. Built like a pugilist, with the physical confidence and fighting spirit to match, and possessed of an irrepressible sense of humor, Henry is not exactly who you would expect to meet when in country to complete an international adoption. But he is exactly what one needs. He is utterly effective in the face of the Vietnamese bureaucracy, which is frozen in a lost Soviet-era time. When we went to pick up An's Vietnamese passport a few days ago, the clock over the desk was actually stopped at 10:35. Given the stale inefficiency that hung in the air, I wouldn't be surprised if it had been that way for days, weeks, or even years. But Henry is an equal and opposite force, making things happen wherever he goes. The man was born with the gift of gab and a preternatural ability to network and relate. I keep wondering how he ended up in this kind of charity work. It's much easier to imagine him managing prize fighters at a gym or running a car dealership.

The clerks behind the desks noticeably smile and become more animated when Henry arrives. One of the clerks took a look at An's passport photo and then looked across the desk at me and remarked to Henry in what I took to be some wry Vietnamese comment (that Henry later explained) that there seemed be some resemblance between An and me. Henry started laughing and asked me if I was sure this was my first visit to Vietnam. They both chuckled heartily at this and clerk cheerfully moved my paperwork to the head of the line.

It's his heart, of course, that drives him to work the systems to help these children find loving homes. He's devoted to all of them and we've been very grateful to have him by our side during our trip.

New Pictures

I added some new pictures to our web album today. Our hotel in Hanoi, The Lucky Star, is less than half the size of the hotel we stayed in in Ho Chi Minh City. But it's got much faster and more reliable wireless service. More updates to come.

Good Morning, Hanoi

We fly out to Hanoi this morning for An's visa interview. He has been issued a Vietnamese passport, so as far as the Vietnamese government is concerned, he is ours. We submitted most of the paperwork for his American visa here at the U.S. Consulate in HCMC but are required to interview in person at the U.S. Embassy. It's a two-hour flight to the north. While we have really enjoyed our time in Ho Chi Minh City, it will be fun to explore another Vietnamese city. City. However, we are also starting to get weary of living in hotels and are longing to bring our family back to the U.S. and begin the process of helping An settle into his home. And as much as I love Vietnam, the heat and humidity is starting to get to me. You can't be out in it for more than an hour or two, even early in the morning, before you feel yourself become completely drained. In a climate like this, air-conditioining is not a luxury, it's a necessity.

If all goes according to plan, we may be ready to fly back to the U.S. as early as the middle of next week. More to come from Hanoi.

So Happy Together

It's hard to believe that we received our son only two days ago. A combination of jet lag, which we are all battling mightily, and a flood of new emotions have combined to really mess up our sense of time. Each day, though, we seem to recover a few lost hours of sleep and An seems to be getting more used to us and his new life. What can I say about him so far? Well, he's a sweet, happy kid, just like he seems to be in the pictures I posted yesterday. He's got an impish grin that slays me each time I see it. It's clear that we was well-cared for and loved at the orphanage, for which we are very grateful. He responds well to affection and reaches out for it when he needs it. Our biggest hurdle right now is the language barrier. He's vocal at times when he's excited and is assertive with sign and body language when he wants something. Our Vietnamese hosts kindly translate as much as they can. The biggest part of his day so far is going to the lobby of the hotel and taking in the huge fish tanks. "Ca!" (Fish!) he shouts, as he looks to me for affirmation and agreement.

I could fill an entire book of reflections on what it has been like for us the past few days. The adoption process aside for a moment, I had no idea what a treat it would be to visit this country. The people are so deeply warm and friendly and sincere. No matter where we go, people are polite and helpful. They seem genuinely interested in our visit. It's been a humbling lesson in hospitality for the jaded American in me. Other than the sweltering heat, it's a delight to be here. My only regret is that the nature of our visit doesn't really allow for meaningful sightseeing or other tourist related activities. However, just going from appointment to appointment in the van through the city provides more than enough opportunity to see what a vibrant and social country this is. It will be interesting to see how our impressions of Hanoi, approximately 1,000 to the miles north, compare to Ho Chi Minh City.

More later. Now, it's time for a morning bowl of pho.

Words Fail Me

It's been an incredibly moving 24 hours. Please see our web album for some of the pictures. I'll add more detail later but everything has gone very well thus far. The process is actually moving a little faster than we thought it would. It's possible we'll head to Hanoi before the end of the week. Love from all of us in Ho Chi Minh City.

Feelin' Type-A In Taipei

I couldn't resist the opportunity to blog from the free internet kiosks next to our gate here in the Taipei International Airport. We had a surprisingly pleasant flight from Seattle but are looking forward to relaxing at our hotel in Ho Chi Minh City. Eva Airlines rules!

For the cramped and weary, international coach-class traveler laying over in Taipei, the free massage chairs are not to be missed! It's like a La-z-boy on steroids. I feel like a new man.

And It's Off to Vietnam!

Above is a picture Greta drew of our trip a few months ago. It's been hanging up in the dining room ever since. From the left, there is Mollia, Greg holding Greta on his shoulders, and An. In the upper right-hand corner you can see the airplane flying away. Greta has explained that this drawing represents us having successfully returned home from our trip with her new brother. I can only hope we are this happy when we get home. We leave for the airport in just a couple of hours. With any luck, the next post will be from Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.

Jitters

With less than 24 hours to go before we fly out of Seattle, we officially have the jitters. Actually, we've had them for a few days. There are just so many details to fret about, upon which we must decide or undecide. There is the traveling, and all of the things that could or could not go wrong, depending on how we prepare or fail to prepare. And then there is the nearly inconceivable event of meeting our son and executing an adoption in a foreign country. Will this be a dream trip or a something less than dreamy? We simply don't know. There are seemingly an infinite number of details we cannot predict and over which we have no control.

Control. It is the lack of control above all that is the most distressing, of course. It is such a convenient and seductive illusion. We almost never think to question our possession of self-control, especially in a democratic, free-market, free-speech society. As Americans, we consider self determination a divinely imparted right. Just ask George W. Bush. He'll tell you all about it. But when we step out of our comfort zone of consumer culture and into the dicey realms of love, marriage, children, and family, it becomes painfully obvious that control is something one hopes to maintain over one's bladder. And even that is short-lived, at best.

As I was putting Greta to sleep tonight, she was singing some song with the word "anxious" in it. I have no idea what it was, but it went on and on. I wasn't paying much attention, as I was just wanting her to go to sleep, finally, so that I could re-focus on packing and crossing every last thing off of my several lists. She paused in her song for moment and asked, "What does anxious mean?"

"It means excited and sometimes it means nervous or worried," I told her.

"You and Mommy are anxious," she said with what seemed like obvious satisfaction.

Big sister's got that right.

Growing Up And Down

I awoke today to my 40th birthday, realizing that life makes us bigger than we ever imagined we could be. Like the universe, we expand and open up to an ever-growing series of horizons and vistas. There is no true end to this process. There is no epiphany so great that will allow us to offer a complete summary of who and what we really are. We are the never-ending, growing flux we see reflected in the world. While the aging process takes an undeniable toll on the body, it seems to have the opposite effect on the mind, spirit, and soul of the individual. These domains ripen within us independent of the pile-up of years, or perhaps because of them. We grow up, physically, and then down to take on the world's burdens and joys and its earthly delights and are thus able to penetrate more deeply into the widening mystery our lives ultimately become.

I know this sounds like I'm jumping wildly off-topic for a blog about our imminent adoption, but growing has made me philosophical. What fatherhood and adoption have made me realize is that we come to see traces of ourselves everywhere we go and that all of these images belong to us, deeply and truly, more than we ever give ourselves time to consider. But if we did spend more time thinking about our reflections in the world, we would struggle less against ourselves and in so doing we would struggle less against one another.

So when I see a picture like this from half a world away:

I see me. I see us. I see the universal We.

Almost Famous

One of the stranger chapters in this process has been the celebrity factor, for lack of a better term. Anyone who follows that kind of news knows that Angelina Jolie recently adopted a child from Vietnam. Because Mollia has the intuition of a clarivoyant on steroids, she knew immediately that Angelina was picking up her child from Tam Binh, the same orphanage where our boy is. And the more the story developed in the press, her suspicions were confirmed. Furthermore, we learned that Angelina was adopting a boy in the same age range as our boy, An. I won't detail the level of anxiety Mollia went through when she worried that Angelina was going to take our son, but there were a few days where she almost convinced herself of it. Evidently, the mother bear instinct is so strong that it operates independently of extreme geography.

I myself was more amused by the coincidence and played with the fantasy of Mollia and I getting into a custody battle with the most powerful couple in Hollywood. I thought it would make an incredibly dramatic film on its own, The Social Worker And The Waldorf Teacher vs. Brangelina! It was exciting to imagine our war of words appearing in the paper each day. I started mentally preparing for our press conferences. Alternatively, I visualized that our boy had been a playmate of little Pax and that the Pitt-Jolie's would soon be sending us an invitation to us to come their mansion in the Hollywood Hills, so that the boys could stay in touch and adjust to their new country together. I saw us taking trips together all over the world.

Turns out the fantasy wasn't so far-fetched. At a pre-travel meeting at our adoption agency on Thursday, the Director confirmed that Pax and An were part of a group of boys that played together regularly. We have been in touch with a couple of other families whose boys are playmates of our son and who want to be in contact with us. We are still waiting for our invitation from Brangelina. I know they've been busy, maybe I should give them a call so we can hook up after we get back.