The Orphanage

Vivian's bed...
I think all of those Minnie's are kind of creepy.  I'm sure that thing is larger than my daughter!

Driving across cities in China is like driving across the state in some cases.  They say "it's on the other side of the city...not far" and then you ride and ride.  After waiting forever at the passport office for the orphanage staff to sign her paperwork, we found ourselves in the middle of afternoon traffic that made the orphanage visit very short.  We had to make it back to the train station by 5:00, so could only spend about 10-15 minutes there.  It ended up being just enough.

Vivian was asleep as we arrived and suddenly I found myself faced with one of the biggest decisions ever (or it seems like it right now), take her in...or not.  Throughout the van ride over there, I was convinced that I should take her in and was prepared to state my case to our guide and stand my ground.

As we pulled up to the tall concrete buildings, though, and the polluted sky dimmed from the departing daylight, something made me stay in the van.  Was it because she was sleeping so peacefully in my arms and I was afraid to upset her sweet slumber?  I believe that was part of the reason, but the other reason eluded me.  I am a fighter and most often am not afraid to speak up for what I believe to be the best.  So, why did I just sit there and let Jason and Lydia go in without us?  Did I not want to see her home in person?  Did I really think it would freak her out that badly?  I couldn't figure myself out at the moment.  It just didn't make sense....I had requested this orphanage visit and I was then content to just sit in the van??  Strange...



As I thought about my actions and waited in the van, I saw children walk into the gate, laughing, and enter the building.  They were the age of my younger two boys and seemed as if they were coming home from school.  Coming home...coming home to what?  To a warm supper, I guess.  Coming home to their familiar surroundings.  Coming home to their comfort.  The orphanage was "home" to them.






Next, I saw a string of children toddling down the hall and passed the front door.  I saw them parading by, attached to each other by hands clasped together.  They apparently were moving from one activity to the next and trying to stay in line.  It struck me again, that their little faces were cheerful and happy, as they looked forward to eating their dinner of porridge sprinkled with bits of meat and veggies...this was home...they were happy to have each other.


Jason and Lydia returned, camera full of pics and we were whisked away...Vivian never knowing that she was "back home"...she had slept the entire time.  Jason's report was "cold, deary, sad, sad, sad" and Lydia was quiet, then talked about seeing Vivian's room, her bed, the children.  She was happy to have seen it (by the sound of her report), but then quickly associated it to herself and said "it reminds me of what my baby house must have been like" Within seconds there was not a dry eye in the back of the van, as she cried in her Daddy's arms, realizing what that sadness was to not have us in her life...for the children to not have parents. She talked about wanting to save the children from that when she gets older.

We rode along in silence and it suddenly struck me what the orphanage visit was for. It was not for Vivian this time, it was for Lydia...to see the enormity of her and her sister's story.

It took me much longer to pinpoint the reason why I agreed to stay in the van and not take Vivian back in there.  It just is not like me to back down on something like that.  But, something truly made me hold back.  I did not realize it until the next day, but then it hit me like a heavy weight....when she began to push me away....to drop to the floor when I wanted to pick her up....to reject the sweet little clothes we brought by ripping them off and throwing them down...to toss her little tiger across the room...to curl up in a ball on the floor over in the corner of the room...to reject all of the food we offer her and not eat anything all day (which still continues).

Today, she is grieving...big time.  She misses her friends, she misses her porridge, she misses getting to roam around in a big room and be in charge of herself, she misses comforting herself in the corner with nobody to say anything or correct her, she misses having no one tell her to keep her socks on, she misses her little routine.  And, that, my friends is the reason I believe I did not take her in there. Somewhere deep down inside, I was so afraid that she would want to stay....that she would scream to get out of my arms and run to her friends and her nannies, and would scream to have to leave again. I see that now and it makes perfect sense.  I do believe that this might have happened and some instinct was protecting my heart from having to experience this rejection, so I sat quietly in the van.

In the restaurants and airport, I watch her stare longingly at the little Chinese children and I know that she is thinking about and missing her friends...what saddens me the most is that she loves them so and will most likely lose the memories of her first loves...her friends.  I don't know that she ever really had the chance to say good-bye to them...and I sat in the van with her. Heavy-hearted today...