Slow and Steady Wins the Race

I wanted him to know me, and me to know him from the moment we laid eyes on each other. When I touched him, I wanted him to know deep within, "Oh, that is my mama's touch." When our brown eyes looked at each other, I wanted him to see the love in my eyes for him and experience his love. How difficult it has been to not live in that place of idealism. I am an idealist at heart, definitely not a realist. This is probably why it takes me so incredibly long to process things. When my ideal world collides with my real world, I have to face the injustice of it all :) and deal with my emotions, and most definitely deal with what is actually happening, not what I dreamed would happen.

This is the first gift Luke has given me. "Live in the real world, mama. You've got what it takes to do so anyway." I sense him saying this to me. He will not let me live in the romantic side of adoption, or even the romantic side of parenting. Every parent dreams of the beauty of having a child -- loving another human in such a way that you would in fact give your life for that human. No one seems to tell you that you have to fight for that kind of love: to keep it, to cherish it, to nurture it, to develop it. Luke has told me that. But here's the pearl: the deeper you swim, the deeper the treasure.

The romantic side never takes you deep enough to gain the greatest treasures. It just keeps you near the surface where it's safe and happy, free from struggle, free from conflict, free from pain.

Luke spends at least half of his day crying. And when I say crying, what I mean is screaming. He cries off and on all day (this is true reality), and at least twice a day he SCREAMS for almost an hour. And there is nothing you can do to make him stop. Nothing. It seems to me that there is something in him that just needs to scream. In between those couple of huge episodes, he basically whimpers and whines, and sheds a few tears too. Sometimes it's because he's not getting his way, other times we simply don't know why. He just cries. He wants me to hold him, but it never makes him stop crying. Sometimes he wants me to hold him close, but most of the time, he wants to just sit on my lap and stare in my eyes and cry and scream. Tears pour down his cheeks. If I talk tenderly to him, he cries and screams more. If I say, "Luke, stop." (because, dear Lord, my ears hurt), he cries and screams more. If I ask him in Chinese if he is hungry or thirsty, he cries and screams more. Sometimes, he is hungry, but it seems like he still has to cry for a long time before he'll take any food.

So this is where I've had to swim deeper. Many say to find out what your limitations are and learn how to manage them. Well, his screaming is my limitation. Especially at 2 in the morning. Another parent here recommended that I get ear plugs and that is exactly what I'm going to do. Because I have to swim deeper. If I want this bond, this attachment, this love, I need to let him scream. And I need to still hold on when he is screaming. The treasure of his love, of this relationship, is worth it.

We are beginning to see the reward of taking it slow and bonding deeply. After just 10 days, Luke only had one major screaming episode today, and a handful of cries. And then he cuddled with me like he has never cuddled with me before. He rolled around on the bed with me, giggling and again gazing into my eyes. He touched my face -- my nose, my eyes my cheeks. He took my arms and wrapped them around him. I found his ticklish spot and got to hear the most amazing giggle come from this little boy that should be bottled and tucked away for when I am 80 and want to remember that sound. He suddenly became inseparable from me and wanted to be touching my skin at all times for the next several hours. We went to dinner and while in his high chair, he leaned over to me and put his forehead on my shoulder, then his cheek on my cheek. Suddenly he took my arm and put it in his lap and stroked my skin. And then, as if he just couldn't take it anymore, reached to try and unbuckle himself from the high chair so he could sit on my lap instead. I took him into my lap and kissed him a million times on the face. A million times.

Today we ventured way out into Guangzhou (just our family, via taxi) to the Guangzhou Botanical Gardens. I was hesitant to agree to this adventure because it would mean missing naps and potentially dealing with grumpy children, not to mention not getting a break myself. And let's face it: my youngest is grumpy enough without having to add tiredness to it! But for the love of my husband (avid gardener), I agreed and off we went.

And I'm so glad we did. We had a wonderful time and it wasn't because it was dreamy and romantic. It was because it was beautiful and crazy and hard. The Chinese gardens were incredible -- tropical, wet, green, strong, lush, fruitful, bits of flower throughout, in authentic habitat and peaceful settings. But it poured rain. And we didn't have umbrellas.

We tried the bicycle since it had a cover!

We were either cowering under any covering we could find, or running through the torrential rain to see the next sight. Because what else can you do when it's pouring rain and you're in the middle of a Botanical garden, in the middle of a city of 14 million people?! As we were either bicycling through the crazy rain, or running through it with my four-year-old holding baba's hand, and my sleeping baby in the Boba on my chest, I thought, "This is how the Robinson's roll. We venture out into what we don't know or think we might know, and no matter what comes, we stick together and weather the storm."

Because when you do, you get to see this:

And this:

And this:

And it gets better:

 And better:

And better:

At one point, a few of us let Baba know that we were ready to head back to the hotel:

But one of us slept through the hardest parts of today -- one of us slept through the downpour:

And I'm so glad he did. Because he's been through enough, and it's time for him to experience a peace that no storm can shake.