Transition

BEFORE ...













AFTER ...



From Chinese to Mennonite in 5 seconds or less!

I was thinking about some of the transitions that parenthood tends to foster in a person's life. Like the jibberish that becomes the language of choice whenever you're with your little one. You know you've bit the bullet when you unconsciously start speaking jibberish with other adults. You're hooked and there's no turning back. In a matter of moments, English becomes a foriegn language. It was like someone flipped on a switch inside of me when we got Kaitlyn two weeks ago. It's not like we're fluent in baby-ese, nor is everything we say completely incomprehensable to all living things except deep sea fish and rare breeds of dogs who hear high-pitch squeals that nobody else hears. But when your tone of voice elevates to a stratosphere that belongs solely to Michael Jackson - and you haven't taken any kind of lethal blow south of the border to prompt such a drastic alteration - then you know a transition of some significance has taken place in your life.

Life is full of transition, some good, some bad. Frank Herbert once said, "Without change, something sleeps inside us and seldom awakens." I have no idea who Frank Herbert is, but I think he's right. It's hard to believe that two weeks have passed since life changed as dramatically as it did.

Now that we're home and free from some of the chaos that was China, we're starting to recall some of the background of Kaitlyn's situation and living conditions before we adopted her. We learned that even though she was paid some fairly specific attention in her orphanage, she would sleep every night for the first 10 months of her life on a piece of plywood that was covered with a band of beads that you normally find taxi drivers draping over their seats. As mildly therapeutic as beads might be, imagine trying to get comfortable on something like that. Without a pillow. In hot temperatures in the summer and cold temperatures in the winter. No air conditioning and probably just enough heat in the winter to keep the snot from freezing and completely clogging up your nose.

When we recieved Kaitlyn from the careworker that made the trip to the hotel with her, we also received the bottle to which Kaitlyn had become somewhat attached. When she finished drinking the bottle, we opened it to clean it to find it covered with mold on the inside. We were completely grossed out at the thought of drinking from something like that. It was horrifically normal for her.

Though the little yellow outfit that Kaitlyn was wearing when we received her looked nice, it also looked as though it hadn't been washed in a long time. A little ratty-looking outfit wasn't about to keep us from taking her but we changed her at the first opportunity we had. And now the time-change is making things difficult for Kaitlyn but she's still doing quite well.

And don't get us started on her appetite. She has definitely earned her new nickname: "Hoover." She's only 12 pounds - don't worry, the doctor's assure us she's very healthy and will grow like a weed in no time! - and I'm sure she has the dubious distinction of being able to eat her weight in food. She barely ate for the first two days we had her which was more than a little nerve-wracking as parents, but completely understandable. Now, we can't shovel in the food fast enough.

Moreover, her personality has changed incredibly. She smiles for no reason whatsoever, something we can't get enough of. I could look at that one-toothed gummy redneck grin all day long. Whenever we walk in the room, she becomes fixated with us, something I hope she never grows out of. And when she stops playing just to smile at Mommy and Daddy and then starts playing again, I can't help but stop what I'm doing, smile back, and take it all in.

Her life is different. So is our's.

Without change, something sleeps inside us and seldom awakens. We've changed and I'm glad for that. It's nice to be awake again.

(PS ... and there you have it ... a whole post without any mention of a toilet!)