Is it possible that I
have lived a lifetime in the past week? Because it feels like I have.
There may be a time in the future when I come back and write about this
in more detail, but right now, I will simply have to type what pours out
of my heart.
We
made it to India late Sunday night, and after shuffling through the
inevitable crowd of people being herded through immigration, we laid
eyes on the outside world of India for the very first time. The word
chaos does not even begin to describe that scene. We wandered out into a
square surrounded by hundreds of people, none of which were from the
hotel we were trying to get to. After finally asking another hotel
driver for help calling ours, and not being entirely sure that message
went through, we finally hired an airport taxi and prayed for our lives
as we zipped off toward what we hoped was the right hotel. We finally
arrived, got cleaned up, and passed out in the bed, hours away from
meeting our daughter for the first time.
Our
in country coordinator met us in the lobby the next morning and we left
for JP's orphanage. After having a chance to talk with the director
about her past, her routine, likes and dislikes, etc., they finally
brought JP into the room. I did not expect her to run into our arms,
but nothing can really prepare you for that moment. She seemed to be in
shock, basically unresponsive even to familiar people. She did not want
us to touch her at all. She did not smile. But when it came time to get
up and go, she suddenly went from "freeze" to "fight" mode. She fought
getting in the car, and in the end, the director had to put her in the
car, and I had to physically restrain her so S could get in and shut the
door. JP began screaming and pounding my leg with her fists trying to
get away from me and climb into the front seat with our coordinator. We
allowed that, just to calm her down. She settled down and went back to
being sullen and unresponsive.
It
was a long day for everyone. We had to go to the airport to fly to
Delhi. She did allow us to hold her hand in the airport, and she did
very well on the plane. But when we got to the hotel and our coordinator
pulled away in the car, the tears began again. She was wailing for
either a caretaker or a friend, I'm not sure, and she was trying to beat
down the door to get out of the room. It was utterly heartbreaking.
When you have a newborn who cries, you can take your child in your arms
and comfort her. When you have a new child from a traumatic background
who cries, you can't do that. All you can do is sit there and let your
heart break with hers. JP was inconsolable for about 20 minutes, and
then finally calmed down, let me put her jammies on (over her clothes),
and passed out in the bed. She was filthy, and had some visible nits in
her hair, but bathing was just not an option.
After
JP fell asleep, S and I retreated to the bathroom to have a good cry as
well. We were both horribly homesick for N, and we were devastated that
we couldn't do anything to comfort our daughter here. Again, we
expected JP to grieve. And in a way, we were thankful for it, because it
shows she was attached to her caregivers. And if she's capable of
attaching to them, then that attachment will eventually be transferred
to us. Still, no amount of knowledge can prepare you for the emotions of
that moment: helplessness, fear, heartache, depression. I say all of
these things not to discourage anyone from adoption, but rather to be
completely honest about the reality of what redemption and restoration
look like. Jesus endured the agony of the cross because of the joy set
before him, and so He and we endure the agony of redemption because HE
is the joy set before us, and we are willing to do whatever it takes to
wholeheartedly run into his arms. What a vivid reminder this is of His
work to win our hearts and draw us up out of the pit.
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