Today marks the 4 week point since we have been referred the amazing little love that I call Liv. At first I was a little concerned and disappointed in myself since I felt as if I were going through the motions of signing paperwork, shopping medical reports around to anyone with a medical degree who would read them, tossing my cookies at the thought of leaving Ava home for the trip, asking my saintly father to make the trip with us, and then freaking out at the thought that we were indeed taking Ava with us. I felt as if I was going through the motions but not connecting (as much as a mom in America can connect with her baby in China) with her. I was not pining away as I burned the midnight oil desperately longing to feel her the way I did with Ava.
Now four weeks later, I'm dreaming of her. I wonder if her little head will smell like Ava's downy skull did 4 years ago. Will her little armpits be wrinkly? Will she have a little pudge on her legs? Will she be traumatized at the sight of us? Does anyone pick her up when she cries? I've dreamt that we went to China and she was 17 months old, which freaked Muffin Man out but I didn't care. I've dreamt of her birth family, waking teary eyed.
I can feel her sitting in the baby bjorn on my chest. I want so desperately for her to trust us, to reach for us when she gets up in the morning.
I just want to get on that plane. Forget the bureucratic garbage, fine I'll stay 3 weeks or 3 months. Send my TA. The Chinese and American governments know WAY more about us than anyone would care to know.
Oh, now I remember why I've always said the wait for referral is the pinprick. The wait to get on that plane is the deep cut. Some one has my baby. And it isn't me. This is a primal ache.
Tune in tomorrow for packing follies and ziploc madness.