My Beautiful Orchid

“Women hold up half the sky.”

(Chinese Proverb)

The call came when I least expected it. In June of 2003 my wife Audrey and I had somehow managed to squeeze a few days out of our hectic schedules to enjoy a trip to the Oregon Coast. We were headed north toward Cannon Beach on highway 101 amidst the rolling, grass enshrouded dunes this part of the coast is famous for. Cathedral like cumulus clouds chased each other across the sky, while the sun fought its way through them with a youthful confidence that promised a warm summer yet to arrive. My reverie was interrupted by the electronic vibra-ring of Audrey’s cell phone which seemed a little more insistent than usual, and we pulled over to take the call. It was Joanne Bailey, the Washington state liaison for Great Wall China Adoptions (GWCA). For almost a year Joanne had been assisting us with our petition to adopt an infant girl from and was acting as our intermediary with the China Center for Adoption Affairs (CCAA). The day had finally come she said, our referral had come back from the People’s Republic of China—we were parents! More information about our soon-to-be daughter was available she said, and we agreed to contact her that evening when we reached our hotel.

Our process had begun two years before. We learned of China’s gender biased infant abandonment problem through our church. Friends and co-workers who had adopted from China shared their life changing experiences with us. We had no children of our own, and a burden for the plight of these girls grew in our hearts. We formally applied in fall of 2002 and began a journey flooded with paperwork, meetings, notarized documents, fingerprints, seemingly endless phone calls and emails, and regular sessions with a wonderful Bainbridge Island social worker who specialized in foreign adoptions. When the specter of SARS appeared early in 2003 our referral was set back several month, and China closed the doors to foreign travel only two weeks before we were to be matched. Now, having navigated many setbacks, delays, and bureaucratic obstacles the day had arrived. That evening we told our story to the concierge at our beachside hotel. Sharing our excitement, she gave us access to her home email through which we were able to receive a terse communiqué from the CCAA.

Her name was Du Lan. She had been abandoned on July 12, 2002 in Nanchong, a prefecture-level city of 7 million in the northeast corner of China’s Sichuan Province. She was found in a public place near a police station—whoever left her had gone to some pain to make sure she was found and was likely watching from a nearby hiding place. From there she had been taken to Nanchong’s Second Social Welfare Institute where she had been given her name and registered as a foundling. A nanny at the Institute had home raised her with one other girl since her arrival. She was estimated to be four weeks old at the time she was found, though we will never know for sure. She subsisted on a diet of milk, rice, meat paste, and corn paste we were told, and enjoyed sitting outside watching cars go by and tearing up paper lanterns. She had no health problems. A small, fuzzy snapshot showed a round faced little girl bundled in what could only be called a cacophony of clashing coats and scarves. Her expression was vacant. Staring past the camera her eyes revealed nothing about the little soul that hid inside or what the first year of her life had been like. In six weeks we would be traveling to China to bring her home to a new life.

My wife was ecstatic. I on the other hand was, well… terrified. It’s not that I didn’t want to be a father. I did (really!). But I’d always wanted to be one at least 3 years ahead of the present moment. Like most other men my age I had a long list of career and personal goals queued up in my well-ordered life, and I didn’t relish the thought of interrupting any of them. When the “present moment” actually arrived it felt as though I’d been thrown screaming into the abyss, not knowing when I was going to hit bottom or whether I would land on down feathers or concrete. What did I know of raising a child? I had enough trouble keeping my own life in order. Even taking care of our dog presented challenges. Now I was being trusted with the soul of a little girl—feeding her, tending to her when she was sick, caring for her emotional and spiritual needs and raising her to the full stature of centered, healthy womanhood.

Was I up to it? I didn’t know…

Her Name was telling—Du Lan. In Mandarin Lan means orchid. The orchid is revered by the Chinese for its exquisite beauty and delicate fragrance. It is relatively rare there and throughout history was available only to those who could afford to purchase it. The traditional character is,

The long horizontal stroke across the top punctuated by two small vertical strokes is the radical for flower. The character below is a combination of the characters for gate and difficulty,