Last Day in Inner Mongolia

I am behind several days now, for this blog.  Friday, was a quiet day of getting packed and getting my Baotou orphanage work organized.  It was also our day to say good bye to Susan, her mother and her daughter.  Susan had invited me to fly to Beijing after this adoption trip and stay with her until the medical team flys to Changsha orphanage.  The team will be evaluating the special needs kids there, and they really need an OT.  The Invite is an honor both from Susan's invitation to live in her home, as well as ASIA of Oregon's request for me to be their OT again.  The orphanage they will be working with is dear to my heart, since it's the very orphanage Bibi lived in for 5 years.   As much as I would like to join the medical team to work in Changsha , it's obvious I must decline. 

Wang Jian was fine coming with us as we separated from Susan's family at the airport.   However, he had difficulty once we sat on the runway before take off.  We sat on the Tarmac for a very long time, while he looked out the window.  As I tried to hold his little hand, he turned away from me, pressing his face against the glass.  Leaving the child's province during an adoption trip is always a hard time for all of us.  After all, these kids don't ask to be removed from the only life they have ever known.  The kinship and closeness kids in an institutional setting form, is often closer than most biological sisters or brothers ever share. 

Steve and I fight back the lump in our throats, while we try to imagine the sadness and brokeness our kids must feel at times like this.   It's one of those helpless times when your child hurts and you can't fix it.  At last the plane begins to gear up, and off we go down the runway.  I realize as neat as his first plane ride could be, this is not a neat, exciting time for our new son.  As the plane gathered speed and the wheels lifted off the runway, Wang Jian reached up and pulled the window shade down.  I believe, it was too much for his little heart to bear.  And so, there he sat, brave as any 5 year old Mongolian warrior prince can be, curled up with his head tucked between his knees.  And off we flew to Guangzhou; leaving only a memory of his presence, his laughter, his friendships and his precious unique footprints behind, back in the only world he has ever known.  As I write this, I know, he is surely missed.