My Beautiful Orchid

On the morning of August 14th, 2003 Audrey and I boarded a flight to Beijing, our suitcases filled with baby bottles, toys, infant clothes, and a small pharmacy of medicines, many for conditions I hadn’t even heard of much less knew about (thank God my wife is a nurse practitioner). 18 hours later after a brief layover in Tokyo, we arrived in Beijing. After a comfortable night’s stay in a charming older hotel, we met our GWCA guides and spent the next two days touring the city with dozens of other adoptive American couples. We learned about its history and traditions. We climbed the Great Wall, the stones under our feet worn to a smooth sheen over many centuries by countless generations of travelers. We sampled new foods and strolled among shops laden with hand-made goods, electronic toys, jewelry, and some of the most beautiful textiles I had ever seen. Most were hand-made one stitch at a time and some had taken many months to complete. We bought pearls that would be set aside to be given to our daughter on her 16th birthday—a keepsake treasure from the land of her birth. We walked the Forbidden City and stood in Tiananmen Square in somber remembrance of those who had fallen. Had it not been for the baby paraphernalia and pharmaceuticals clogging our luggage I would have thought I was on vacation. On the morning of August 17th we left for Chengdu, Sichuan’s capital city of 10 million. It was there that our life with Du Lan would begin.

The reality had yet to hit me.

We Meet!

If Beijing embodied tradition, Chengdu was modernity incarnate—a multimedia whirlpool of neon, hi-tech, and très chic. Everywhere I turn brilliant spectacles, high fashion, and wizardry of all sorts demand my attention. Canon, Nikon, China-Tel, Armani, McDonalds, the Santa-Fe Polo and Racquet Club, and more. Our hotel would not have been out of place in New York or Paris. The movie theatre across the street featured a double-bill of Terminator 3: The Rise of the Machines, and James Bond: Die Another Day. Settling into our room, which was as comfortable and welcome as any I’d ever stayed in, I laid down to rest for awhile. We still had 2 hours until our appointment with orphanage officials…. Or so I thought. Within minutes someone was pounding on our door. It was our fellow adoptive parent Laurie. Her eyes were wild with excitement. “They’re here! NOW! At the elevator! Come quick!!” Hastily I grab our camera and we rush out the door. Next thing I knew I was swept into a whirlwind of joyful chaos. Several nannies stood clutching infants and calling names. Ecstatic parents scrambled like bumper cars, arms reached, tears flowed, confused babies wailed, cameras flashed like artillery shells.

Since the dawn of history poets and lovers have known that the heart has its own landscape, haunted by transforming mysteries which have a way of appearing when we are least prepared for them. After fumbling our camera into operation I turned to capture the moment, and there was Audrey…. paralyzed, her back against the wall. From the start it was she who had been the inspiration behind our journey—the rock of faith to which I anchored the vicissitudes of my own fears. Now she stood before me frozen—shocked by her own emotional numbness. Her gaze turns to me and the shock becomes panic. “You, you”, she stammers. “Please, I can’t… you!” I toss her the camera and begin scanning the chaos. Where is she?....

Then, I hear it.

“Du Lan? Du Lan?…”

And moments later I see them. Behind everyone else stood a sober faced nanny smartly dressed in an elegant knit skirt and red blouse waiting for the throng to abate. Cradled in her arms was a beautiful infant girl whom to my eyes bore little resemblance to the fuzzy snapshot we had received two months earlier. She was looking right at me. The halls resonated with the crying of confused babies who did not understand the sudden chaos or the strange new arms that were taking them from familiar ones. But this little girl was peaceful—even serene. I wave to them and as I approach her gaze never leaves me. When I reach for her she comes willingly into my arms, never once looking back at the woman who had raised her almost from birth. Somehow, she knew! It was Mommy and Daddy and we were there to take her home! Inner labyrinths open in my own heart and unleash mysteries I wasn’t prepared for either. Fear vanishes like mist in the morning sun and as a wave of joy washes over me, I weep, my body quaking. The very first picture we have of Du Lan captures her looking up in peaceful trust at her tearful Daddy, surprised by joy. For awhile we ponder whether to keep the Chinese convention of last name-first name, and finally christen her Claire Lan Du Church.

The next two weeks are a parade of miracles—and lessons. Claire is 14 months old, yet weighs only 16 pounds. She doesn’t even crawl much less stand or walk. We help her with new toys, play with her, sing to her, giggle, tease, cradle, and kiss. Fortunately, I have a gift for acting one-fifth my age very poorly, which despite the irritation it causes Audrey in public places proves to be a source of endless delight to Claire. The very next day she’s crawling like a battle tank and into everything. By evening she’s on her feet and walking around the bed, the table, anything she can hang on to.