Day 5: Too Many People at the Party

Since returning from the Philippines, life has seemed like a perpetual party. People bring food, they deliver presents, they hang balloons, they celebrate. Some even draped a banner over our front door. We've seen a different set of friends or family every day we've been back. Although this partying is a lot of fun, and we feel so loved, it's taking a toll on Rex. We have to slow down.

Tonight we stopped the van to say hello to our neighbor, Cathy. I opened Rex' door so Cathy could catch a glimpse of him. She almost didn't get the words, "Hello, Rex" out of her mouth when he began to cry and desperately reach for me. I quickly shut the door and we drove off. He's meeting just too many people right now. I think that's it. Or, he's scared to death of blondes. You don't see many blondes in the Philippines. Actually, you don't see any, unless they're from somewhere else. That could be it, but I don't think so.

No, I think all these new faces--blonde or not--are a bit much for him. And that's understandable, given what he's been through. Today was a good reminder that we as adoptive parents need to constantly consider Rex' perspective. We might want to see our friends, and hang out with our extended family, and receive guests into our home, and introduce the world to Rex. But for now, the world is too big for Rex; he needs us to be his world, and once he feels safe in it, his world can expand. For now there's too many people at the party.

Day 4: Doctor Appointment

I take back what I said yesterday about Rex' biggest cry. We have a new winner--his first doctor appointment. It was terrible. If you have a weak stomach, don't read on. Our pediatrician wanted to see Rex for a wellness checkup, read his medical history, update him on vaccinations the United States requires, and so forth. Turns out she needed to give him two shots and take several vials of his blood.

The shots weren't too bad--Colette held him on her lap, the nurse pulled up his pant legs, and quickly pressed a needle into each leg. He was already screaming and I don't think he made any more noise when the needles actually went in. Then it was time to take blood. Rex is only 25 pounds, but he is mighty. An extra nurse had to be called in to help. Three of us--Colette, nurse 1 and me--held Rex down while nurse 2 tried to find a vein in his arm. She couldn't. So they called the doctor back in.

The doctor asked Colette and Asia to leave the room so they didn't have to witness the procedure. I wanted to escape too, but for Rex' sake, I stayed. The doctor laid Rex on his back, his poor hot head dangling over the edge of the table. She needed to take blood from his neck vein. Yeah, his neck vein. A nurse pinned his body down while I held his arms from flailing. The doctor stuck the needle in his neck and blood started flowing. The whole awful thing was over in a few minutes, but it felt much longer than that, to me and to Rex, no doubt. We are praying this experience doesn't tramatize him.

Day 3: The Car Seat

Rex had his biggest cry, and it's not about what I would have expected. Saying goodbye to his foster family, his first night with us strangers, a 13-hour plane ride, these are reasonable candidates, but like John McCain, not the winner. No, ladies and gentlemen, the winner is...riding in a car seat. When we strapped Rex into his car seat after our long plane ride, he went without a fight. I guess he was just too tired.

But when we placed him in his new flashy car seat to go to my parents' house, he threw a massive fit. Poor Colette had to squat in between his seat and Asia's seat, hugging him closely, Rex screaming in her ear the whole time. And Asia sat so quietly, probably remembering the good old days when she made the only noise in the van. You can hardly blame Rex, though. He's not used to a car seat. Back home he didn't use one, a fact I later checked with his foster family.

And so I had to explain to my parents why Rex arrived to their house tear-soaked and throat-parched. No, it wasn't because he was going to their house (a nightmare for grandparents); it was the car seat. After this initial outburst, there was one other, but now we've had several rides with no incidents, and I'm confident he'll live a car seat-happy life from here on out.

Day 2: Sleep

When the good LORD was about to give the first man a wife and family, He caused Adam to fall into a deep sleep. That's because the LORD knew Adam would need it, and it's been the same ever since--where there is a wife and family, the man needs to sleep. That would be good and all if the man could sleep. But it poses a problem when that man travels half way around the world, where the time zone is twelve hours later, meaning what was once midnight is now noon, and so forth. It's okay when said man adjusts to the new time zone, but when he returns to his home, flipping midnight and noon again, and does so not only with his wife and 6 year-old daughter, but also with his new 2 year-old son who has lived the other time zone his entire life, this isn't an easy thing.

It's quite a lot to do this "new family, new country, new home, new life thing" on regular sleep, but try doing it on little sleep, when your body is whacked out because it doesn't know if it's time to eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom. Last night just as I was heading to bed at midnight, Rex woke up and wanted me. So I laid down in his room with him. Since this was noon Philippines time and he already had four hours of sleep, he decided it wasn't time to sleep anymore. We laid down for two hours--until 2 am--and then I got bored and we went downstairs. We played for the next two hours--until 4 am--until Colette came down, took Rex, and put him to bed. I went to bed myself.

I don't know what kind of training the military does to prepare troops for sleep deprivation, but I think it should be part of the adoption process. I mean, is introducing your new child to their new life really the time to see how well you function when you're sleep deprived? Isn't there too much at stake for the weary and bleary-eyed? And what about the little guy? Here he is in a strange new world and suddenly these new people are poking and prodding to wake him up at precisely the time he should be sleeping. And for some reason when he should be playing, everyone is going to bed. What is going on? No matter, at least Adam got some rest.

Day 1: Real Life Starts Now

Here is day 1 of our adoption year and the start of the daily blogging. This is the day after we got back from our trip to the Philippines to get Rex. I'm starting the Adoption Year today because real life starts today, not during the trip. Although the trip was wonderful, and we met so many great people, and did many super things, and so many prayers were answered, it was not real life. Transition for our family--for an adoptive family--really starts back at home, doing everyday things. This is when the journey begins.

Sure, a lot's happened already and in some ways this has already felt like an epic quest, like "Lord of the Rings" or "The Neverending Story." I half expected to see Frodo or Atreyu on our trip. In the last two years since we started the adoption process, we heard the call to adopt, rose to the challenge, passed the test (the home study, medical exams, and other paperwork), were guided by wise elders (Carol, Beth and Kelli), traveled to a foreign land, flew on a big bird (named Delta), communicated in a strange tongue (Tagalog), participated in local rituals (eating tosino and riding on motorized tricycles), befriended by local inhabitants (Tita Pat and Arjun), encountered delays and setbacks (no, come next week instead), and even brought back the king (Rex means king), and all of it catalogued by a scribe (photographer Heidi Lewis). But in the end, this proved to be only the start of our adventure.

And it's at this beginning--at the start of our Adoption Year--that I make record in this blog. For real life starts now, in the everyday things. This is the adventure. Welcome to Adoption Year.