Half a world away

On days like today, I feel so far from my son.

I think about packing up and traveling to the other side of the world, a multi-step journey involving planes, trains, and hotels, but we aren't traveling yet. We're just thinking about it. We're getting new suitcases and baby seats. We're checking the weather in Nanjing and Guangzhou. We're learning "Ni hao!" and "Bu yao, xie xie!" I met with the pediatrician and discussed Yun Gui's special needs with her.

I really like her. She's going to be a great help - she's very forthcoming with information, which is SOOOO much better than all the people who wait until I ask just the right question and then say, "Oh, is THAT what you need to know!" Or all the many, many people who offer to help me with anything, anything at all - oh, but not that. And not that either - find somebody else to ask. And you're asking the wrong person about that too.

This pediatrician has the attitude that she's never the wrong person. If I ask a question that's out of her area of expertise, she'll at least discuss it with me, and lead me in the right direction so that I can find the right person to ask. She has two adopted children of her own; she's been through the process (not to say other people haven't been through the process) and she's sympathetic to the feeling of flailing helplessness that creeps up on a waiting parent every now and then.

I'm not one for support groups, so maybe I'm exceptionally prone to flailing helplessness. I go about my day, assured that everything is all right and I'm coping fine, right up until the moment that the helplessness envelops me and knocks me over. Then I get on the phone and choke down my urgency while trying to coax some sentiments of reassurance out of my poor agents. Maybe if I did the support group thing as a preventative measure before it got that far.... but until I desperately need reassurances, I really am fine! I swear! Nothing I can't handle alone! Alleviating insecurity doesn't seem very important while I'm feeling secure.

I'm not on the phone this time. I'm just writing in my blog. I suppose everything is all right. China will look at my file when they get to it. All things in good time.

On the other hand, I would like to get a pre-approval. Just a little note that says, "The CCAA is reading your files and they think they like you."

I know my son is safe and okay in the orphanage. He's not very old yet, and we were willing to accept a child older than him. His health is stable and his surgery isn't urgent. However, I can't see much reason, now that he's been matched with us, that he can't just go ahead and get united with his family now. I don't know why someone doesn't say, "This match looks good. Go turn on the green light for them." I don't know why they can't say, "He's ready for his surgery now, so why don't we send for his parents to come get him so they can bring him to the American surgeon."

We're going to spend the rest of our lives as family. Why not start right now? Why wait? What's with this limbo of great distance? What's the point of living 13 time zones apart when we can be in the same time zone? Why not send him to live in the nice house that's waiting for him, and allow some other new baby to sleep in his orphanage crib?

I'd at least like to know that we are a good match. I want China to tell us we're good enough. I think we're good enough, but I want to hear it from someone else.

Because, well, if they don't think we're good enough, I'll be shocked and devastated, and I'd rather go through that sooner rather than later. It's probably not likely, but just hearing that we're pre-approved will assure me that it's not going to happen, rather than leaving me with the vague belief that it's unlikely to happen.

Maybe if I go to Zen meditation again, I'll feel a little better. I'll feel closer to my son. I won't be closer to him, but if I'm careful, I can possibly convince myself that I feel closer.