Remembering Dec. 9th: The Day We Met Our Bug (long – with photos!)

December 9th, Part I: The Drive to Kien Giang

The drive to Kien Giang (pronounced sort of like Gen (with a hard “g”) Yen) was amazing. I was apprehensive because I’ve heard it is bumpy and long with lots of bridges and a few ferries. All of that was true, but I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Thuy, her husband, and our driver met us in the lobby at 7:30 and we headed out. I thought crossing the street was traumatic. Ha! That’s nothin’! I could have never imagined what it was like to ride in a car or van here! I thought the drive from the airport was a bit wild, but I had no idea what it would be like to drive down the narrow, often unpaved two lane roads with motor bikes, vans, and busses flying in every direction with no order whatsoever. Well, it was scary crazy… We engaged in several rousing games of chicken with huge busses, trucks, and tons of scooters. The scooters didn’t bother me so much (hey, we had size on our side), but the trucks and busses? Yeah, that was frightening. We would head straight towards them, then jump back over into a space that seemed far too small for our van at the very last second with absolutely no time to spare. Luckily, Ed and I ended up in the middle row of seats, and I was on the driver’s side. As such, I couldn’t really see out the front window unless I leaned around to look. After one such game of chicken with a huge truck, I had enough of the leaning around and looking thing. We missed smashing head on into the truck by maybe three seconds. The only other places I’ve been where the driving is pretty chaotic are the border towns in Mexico (Tijuana and Nogales) and let me tell you, that is NOTHING; it’s not even a valid comparison.

I spent the ride looking out the side windows in complete awe at what we saw. Vietnam is amazing. Ed took hundreds of pictures from the van as we drove. There was so much to see that I was afraid I would miss something. It’s not difficult to see the poverty in so many places, and yet it is such a beautiful country. I feel so fortunate to have had the opportunity to see what we did. I know that we wouldn’t have seen so much if our baby had not been in Kien Giang orphanage, because the other orphanages are so close to Saigon…

…In addition to having time to talk with Thuy and being able to see a lot of the southern part of Vietnam, we were also afforded the opportunity to eat at more local “restaurants.” This was also amazing. I never would have eaten at any of the places we stopped because I would have been too concerned about becoming sick. If I were “normal,” I might have risked it, but I’m not and it’s not worth it. Not so interested in any near death experiences here, and I’m certainly not looking to need an IV in a clinic!! Because Thuy knows everything (seriously – just try to find something she doesn’t know), she knew of wonderful local places where it was safe for us to eat authentic Vietnamese food that was out of this world. I wouldn’t have stopped at a single place where we ate – trust me, if you saw them, you wouldn’t have, either. All of the local “restaurants” we ate at were not enclosed; they have a sort of tall “roof” and are open on three sides. For breakfast, we stopped somewhere and had the most amazing Pho (pronounced fuh) I’ve ever tasted. I could eat that every day for the rest of my life. We also had Vietnamese coffee with condensed sweet milk. Holy crap! Starbucks sucks! I will crave that forever. The amount is very small – maybe five or six ounces – and it leaves you wishing you had more (no such thing as a Venti here). We stopped for a snack and iced Vietnamese coffee a few hours later. Again, holy crap! We ate a banana covered in sweet sticky rice that was deep fried. It was so rich I could only eat a few bites of Ed’s, but I’m craving more now. By lunch, I wasn’t even hungry from all the very flavorful, rich food. We did lunch “family-style” and it was true Vietnamese food. There were so many things on the table; I couldn’t identify them all, and I can’t remember many of them now. I know for sure there was a huge pot of soup on a small burner that they brought to the table that had crazy stuff in it such as fish heads (there ‘ya go, Dad). There were also different types of fish that I didn’t recognize, pork, and chicken. Unfortunately, I wasn’t hungry from all the rich foods we had eaten all day. Plus, I wasn’t able to identify some of the sauces on the food, so I didn’t want to live dangerously and deal with gluten poisoning for the other 3.5 hours in the car.

So, there’s a not-so-brief summary of our drive to Kien Giang. It was worth every minute of the seven hours, every bit of bumpy road, every game of chicken, every (perceived) near-accident, every rickety bridge we crossed, and all four ferry rides. I normally get VERY car sick (even in a normal car on a normal road) and somewhat anxious when dealing with less-than-desirable road conditions (when Ed drives, of course). However, I didn’t get at all sick and I was quite calm. We were both like sponges, absorbing absolutely everything we could. Nothing has really fazed me during this entire trip. I usually hate to fly and I couldn’t have cared less. I would normally be anxious about being forced to ride in a van at the very, very front of the ferry, just inches from the edge, where we sat for the duration of the ride, but I didn’t think much about it. Okay, I’m starting to sound like I’m a neurotic freak in everyday life, so I’m gonna stop now (because I’m not)! The point is that when I’m in a situation over which I have little or no control, I usually don’t feel the best about it. Here, I have loved every minute of the things we’ve done. This is an amazing experience in an amazing place.

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This is one of my favorite pictures that Ed took while we were in Vietnam. He took it through the window of our moving van. It’s blown up and hanging in our dining room and every time I see it, I miss Vietnam terribly.

The next one is not so beautiful and it proves that I can find something totally inapporirate and amusing in any situation. Ed was all sorts of put out that I made him take the photo; he was afraid someone was going to see him taking it. What wus. We were on a ferry, crossing one of the many rivers on the way to KG, and I couldn’t stop snickering. (Yeah, I’m well aware of my age.)

Ed and me, enjoying our FIRST ever VNese coffee AND our last hours as just the two of us:

The drive down there really was an incredible experience for me. As stupid as this sounds, it was probably the first time I got over my control issues, enjoyed something that would have otherwise made me nervous, and took everything in completely. My behavior on our trip to VN was very uncharacteristic – in a good way. I came home a different person, too. I never loved to travel before Vietnam. I traveled and was always happy once we GOT to where we were going, but the traveling part, not so much. Obviously, given the amount of traveling we’ve done in the year since coming home, I’m over that. Mattix and I spent over two of the last twelve months in different cities/states and I was calm. He’s been on nearly 25 flights since coming home (so me, too). NEVER would have happened in my old life.

December 9th, Part II: Meeting Mattix

We arrived at the orphanage after our seven hour adventure and were taken into a medium sized room and told to sit at a large table. The orphanage director came in and sat at the head table and welcomed us to Vietnam and asked us how we were enjoying our trip. We were told that the babies would be brought in in just a few minutes. Shortly thereafter, two nannies came in, each carrying a baby (Mattix and Khai, our travel mates’ son). Oh my goodness! He was absolutely precious. He was super quiet and looked at each of us intently. He went to me with no problems (not necessarily a great thing) and let me hold him while he just looked at me. He didn’t squirm or cry, just hung out while I held him and talked to him. He was so quiet! I handed him to Ed, and he did the same thing. We tried to stand him up (holding onto him) and he would just collapse. I figured he just didn’t have enough time out of the crib to develop adequate muscle tone in his legs. We were then told we could go into the room where the babies live. We had asked Thuy ahead of time if we would be able to spend any time at the orphanage and in Mattix’s old room and were told that we would be able to spend an hour and half or two hours there. That was a relief, because sometimes families don’t have any time at all and we really wanted a chance to spend a little time where Mattix spent the first ten months of his life.

I was starting to wonder if he was ever going to move or make a sound when we went into the baby room. He lit up at the sight of his nannies. We put him on the floor and they all played with him. He laughed, squealed, crawled, and stood up. They had him clapping his hands while they sang and standing up and bouncing up and down (dancing) while holding onto something. The baby room was small and there seven or eight babies of varying ages there. They were all so precious, and I felt good knowing that all of the babies in THAT room were going to permanent families…We spent about an hour in there playing with all the babies and taking photos of them, playing with Mattix, and taking lots of video. .

We walked around the orphanage grounds a bit and took more photos. We didn’t go into any of the other rooms, so we did not see too many other children. There were a few toddler age children wandering around, as well as a few kids that were maybe five or six years old. They broke both of our hearts. It was hard for Ed especially; he asked about them and we learned that these children will grow up in the orphanage and likely never have a “real” home. They apparently have one or two living parents who are not able to care for them for some reason (e.g., they are impoverished or in prison), but don’t wish to have their children adopted internationally and therefore won’t relinquish them for adoption. We were told that often these parents rarely or never visit the kids, so they will grow up in the orphanage until they turn eighteen. It’s horrible, because these kids watch families leave with babies or other children all the time. Ed took pictures of them and it was difficult to watch them ham it up for the camera; they obviously don’t receive the kind of attention that every single child deserves.

As a side note, the good news is that Thuy told us that every single thing we took down to the orphanage to donate (supplies and clothes), as well as the gifts we brought for the nannies, will stay there (and the gifts will indeed go to the nannies). I say that is good news because we have heard that sometimes orphanage “donations” are sold rather than being used for the kids. Apparently this is not the case with Kien Giang; they will use everything we brought them because they desperately need it. Ed and I knew about the possibility of things not ending up in their intended places a long time ago, but figured there was no harm in trying and hoping. We’re both very glad that everyone’s effort will help the kids that we intended to help.

We left the orphanage to head for our hotel, which at $20 a night, needs little explanation. I will say that it was not the most horrible place I’ve ever seen, but it is certainly not a five (or one) star hotel. The bathroom floor was wet because there was no shower curtain. There was a drain in the actual floor where all of the water that collected in the bathroom would drain out. There were quite a few mosquitoes in the hotel room, but Thuy assured us we need not be concerned. Of course, Ed’s paranoia meant we had to cover ourselves in Deet, but that’s okay. Better safe than sorry. Our room was huge . It had three queen beds, a full table and chairs, tons of space, and the ceilings were at least 15 feet high. Very strange and not exactly clean. It cost us a whole 300,000 Dong ($18.75). Karen and Andrew had a smaller room to the tune of $12.50. There was only one big room on each floor, and being the crazy big spenders we are, we went ahead and took the large one. ‘Cause you know, we needed all that room for the big party we threw.

Going back to the 30 minute ride to the hotel, Mattix was very quiet. He spent most of the ride looking out the windows, completely silent, his eyes as wide as saucers. He looked like he was just taking everything in and thinking about it. He seems too old for his ten months in that respect.

By the time we checked in and settled into our room, we were absolutely exhausted. Mattix played on the beds (pushed together) for a while with some of the toys we brought. He was very giggly and cute, but not too into being held for any length of time. (We don’t have any photos of this b/c we took video but forgot the photos!) We wore ourselves out and changed Mattix for bed. He had his bottle and all three of us fell asleep. In fact, we were supposed to meet Thuy and her staff for dinner, but we slept through it. I think we were out by 5:30 p.m.

Poor little guy woke up every hour or so after the first two hours by crying and fussing himself awake. It is very apparent that he did this in the orphanage but didn’t have anyone to comfort him. He cries and whimpers and it breaks my heart. Ed and I both rubbed his tummy, back, and butt over and over all night to try to calm him. He’s such a sweet little baby; to see him so sad is very difficult. He deserves so much more than to feel afraid and lonely.

Overall, it was an amazing, exciting, and sad experience all at the same time. Mattix is incredible! He’s just a little peanut, weighing maybe 15 pounds, although he is super solid and has the cutest little Buddha tummy ever. He is truly a beautiful baby. He makes the most precious and expressive faces. His little hands, feet, tummy, and especially legs are covered in an absolutely horrible rash. I’m not sure whether it is a “regular” rash or scabies. If it is not scabies, I have no idea what caused it. I’ve never seen a rash like that. I have heard that the babies often have eczema, but I have certainly never seen eczema like that before. . Thuy said it may go away after a few days, so we held off on the scabies treatment. I guess we will know if he has scabies if Ed and I are rockin’ the same rash in a week. We’ll go for the family treatment and cover all of us in the cream, then we’ll all stink together. He itches so much that I hope it clears up soon. He also has a slight cold, but nothing like some of the orphanage babies. Often they seem to have horrible respiratory infections. He just seems to have a mild cold which should hopefully clear up soon. We’re slightly concerned because of his lack of a meltdown when we left the orphanage. I think a meltdown often means that a baby was bonded to someone there and is having a hard time being separated. That’s good because it means the baby was able to form a bond with someone, indicating that he should be able to form a bond with his new parents without too much difficulty. Mattix was so quiet. Maybe that was his way of dealing with the change. We’ll see over the next week or so how he adjusts. The issue that really upsets me is the back of his head; it is as flat as a board. That confirms what I’ve heard – that the babies only spend an hour each day out of the crib. That’s hard to think about. It is amazing that he is as developed as he is physically. He can pull himself up and stand up on his own as long as he is holding onto something.

 

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I’m not really sure where to start. This was such an incredible and difficult day, all at the same time. Obviously, the incredible part was meeting Mattix for the first time. He was more beautiful in person than I could have expected…and I had high expectations! I thought he was absolutely perfect from the photos we had received. My heart melted the moment he was handed to me. It was a very surreal, out-of-body experience. Up until that point, it really felt like I was never going to hold Matty. Without rehashing the wait – yet again – we were strung along so much that I felt hopeless. I went to Vietnam with a great attitude, nonetheless, but for some reason, it just didn’t seem real – like it really wasn’t possible that I was actually going to be Mattix’s mom, finally.

Mattix stared at me so intently and in such a way that I knew. At that moment, I knew it was going to be a long, tough road. I wrote about it a little bit in that day’s blog post, in two different places, actually. As soon as I took him, I knew. The way his body was so rigid, the way he stared, they way he kept himself pushed away from me,  the way he failed to react at all. He did the same with Ed. I realize that children all have different reactions, but I had been praying for the total meltdown, I-don’t-want-to-go-with-you-because-I-don’t-know-you reaction. Instead, it was total detachment in general.

When we went into the baby room, I knew immediately something wasn’t right. I’ve never been secretive about my feelings concerning the orphanage where Matty lived. I still feel very strongly. I’ve shared specifics with some of you. I won’t blog them now, just like I haven’t over the past year, but it was apparent and it was hard. Nobody really talks about the possibilities outside of the standard poor-but-loved scenario. I’m an expect the worst, hope for the best,  girl. I expected the worst and hoped for the best.

I could not have expected it, though, no matter how much I thought I was prepared.

Within a few weeks to a month of coming home, I understood Mattix’s reaction to his nannies. He performed, and he did it well, but that was all. It wasn’t a happy-to-see-you reaction, or a fun baby having a fun time. It was a performance and I don’t like to think about it much. I know I blogged about that more than once over the past year. I feel SO incredibly grateful that I no longer see any remnants of that behavior. 

Another KG mom recently shared with me in an email that her family has never watched the video of their first meeting of their child. I breathed a sigh of relief that we are not the only ones. We have not touched the video from that day. I’m not yet ready to watch it. I’m just getting to a point where I can talk about it without either being entirely emotionally unstable or smart mouthed and caustic. It’s taken me a long time to sort through those feelings and get to the place where I am, which is one of acceptance and manageable anger. I don’t think it’s anything I’ll ever let go, but I can’t carry it around forever.

Don’t misinterpret my words. Meeting Mattix was by far the most significant day of my life thus far. It was incredible and emotional and I will never forget what it felt like to hold my son for the first time. Words will not do my feelings justice. But at the same time, I would be dishonest if I didn’t include the rest. Part of my reason for blogging some of the things I have over the past year is that I feel like not too many people were open with some of the realities of some adoptions. I wish someone – or maybe our AGENCY – had at least clued us in a little bit before we left. It’s a very difficult reality to face all at once – to meet your child and then have it hit you like a ton of bricks. We’re often given the pretty, sweet pictures and while that’s a lovely, it’s not always the case. I’m still grateful for two moms and what they shared with and did for me. Without their honesty and encouragement, it would have been more isolating.

From the moment they put Matty in my arms, I felt like I was outside of my body, watching everything happen. There are things I will not share because, despite what impression I’ve given with my openness, I respect Matty’s history and privacy and they’re not for the blog. But I became aware of a lot of things all at once and they were sinking in and it was surreal. It truly felt like I was an invisible observer for some of it.  By the time we left the orphanage and got back to the hotel, I was emotionally and physically drained in a way that I had never felt and have yet to feel again, even with all of the sleep deprivation that was to follow. We passed out by 5:30 that evening. I felt like someone had sucked every last bit of energy out of my body.

I wanted to hold Matty close to me and tell him that I would always be there, but he did not know how to be held and didn’t want that. I promised him that we were there forever and that eventually, he would want me to hold him . I’m so grateful and pleased that one year later, that’s the case. Today, Mattix and I were in a boutique, waiting for the woman who owns it to return. She had stepped out for a minute and had asked the man who owns the store next to hers to keep an eye on things. I set Mattix down and gave him my usual, “Look with your eyes, not with your hands” speech. He was in a cute, charming mood. He ran around and smiled and pretended to talk on my cell phone, cracking up and holding it between his shoulder and ear without hands, apparently like I do, because where else would he have learned that!? He engaged the man and proceeded to talk to him about all sorts of things, smiling and being cute. Matty knows how to be cute, but now it’s a sincere cute, not a performance cute. The man leaned down and Matty immediately ran to me, hid behind my leg, and peeked around. He had a huge smile on his face, but he wanted the safety of mom’s leg.

The man smiled and said, “Oh, he’s a BIG momma’s boy, I can tell. That’s a great thing, little buddy. Mommies love you like nobody else.”

It was hard for me to keep it together. It took almost a full year for Matty to become a true “Momma’s Boy.”  And I do love my son like nobody else. It’s a love that has grown and grown over the last year and is now to the point where I truly don’t believe it is physically or emotionally possible for me to love him any more. Reading over our journal tonight, I’m again astounded by the place we began, exactly one year ago today, and the place we’re at now.  What a year!

No matter how much time passes, I will never, ever forget the day we met Mattix. The moment he was put in my arms was an incredible one that still gives me goosebumps.  I was finally holding the baby I had seen grow from a newborn to a ten month old and words cannot capture how that felt.  I wanted to take him into my arms and make the past ten months disappear – not to erase the beginning of his life, but to make the hardships of being in an orphanage without parents just go away, to make the physical pain and emotional pain better.  I knew I couldn’t do that, but I also knew that from that point forward, he would be loved and cared for for the rest of his life. 

Here are a few photos from our first meeting and our time at the orphanage:

 

 In the baby room, on the floor, chewing on my pants

 Just after we got in the van to head to the hotel. Not looking like he’s into it, huh?