Choosing to SEE - Mary Beth Chapman [41]
“This is crazy,” he said. “Am I supposed to try to stop you from doing this?”
“I’ve got to try,” I said. “If I can just get there, I know they won’t say no!”
I called our friend Terri Coley and gave her the rundown. “Go to Target,” I said. “Buy a suitcase and fill it with everything Jan and I might need in China: formula, clothes, medicine, bottles, pacifiers, blankets, granola bars, wipes . . . whatever. If you think I’ll need it, then buy it. I’ll cover it, and I’ll meet you in the parking lot of Target at 12:30 p.m.”
“You’ve lost your mind, but I’m on my way,” said Terri.
Melissa called on the other phone. She had gotten the powers of attorney papers moving through lawyers that we use for estate and tax purposes, had walked them into the state capital in Nashville for their state seals, and was sending them to a friend who lived near D.C. He was going to walk the paperwork through the proper channels at the embassy.
I threw random clothes in a suitcase. Steven videotaped me doing so for a bit of humor later, if and when we could all laugh about it. We had to be at the airport by 1:30. Geoff and Jan were going to pick up all our kids from school and bring them to the airport so we could tell them that, by the way, Mommy was going to China that afternoon, and we loved them.
We zoomed to the airport, stopping at the Target parking lot first to pick up the bag of baby stuff. Jan and Geoff met us in the terminal. Usually Jan is as cute as can be . . . but today she was ever so slightly stressed out, with red, puffy eyes. She looked like she’d been crying ever since I called her that morning.
“I don’t even know if I have the right paperwork,” she sobbed. “It was all in a laundry basket in my office, and I just dumped it into a duffel bag. I can’t believe we’re doing this! I would only do this with you!”
We kissed our husbands and kids goodbye and got on the flight to L.A. We left without even knowing whether we would be able to continue on to Guangzhou.
We had a long layover at LAX. I called Steven when we landed. “The facilitator says the travel documents had not been mailed yet, and they can make it work from their end,” he told me. The documents could be sent to Hunan’s provincial affairs office in the city of Changsha, where our adoption – if it worked out – would eventually take place.
I began sorting through Jan’s pile of papers. Miraculously, she had everything she needed, plus half of the papers from their first adoption.
I love putting things in order. I organized all of Jan’s papers, put them neatly in a folder, and handed it back to her with great satisfaction.
We boarded the flight for China. Our seats were in business class, which was unusual because we always fly coach. Oh, I thought, that’s so nice! We’re so exhausted, and the travel agent must have upgraded us because we’re under all this stress about the adoptions.
I called Steven. “No, they didn’t upgrade you,” he said. “The only two seats left on the flight were business class, and they were $3,500 each. So Stevey Joy just got a little more expensive . . .”
Oops!
Meanwhile, Jan was such a trooper. “Let’s see,” she said. “What are we doing? I left behind a half-painted room! I don’t even know what’s in my suitcase. Are we really going to China?! Are we going to catch SARS and die?”
Hours passed. I could not sleep. We flew through the skies above the dark Pacific Ocean, getting closer and closer to two little girls who needed their mommies – two mommies who were determined to rescue their daughters.
We landed in Guangzhou early in the morning, local time, and called home while waiting for our flight to Changsha, Hunan Province. It was obvious we weren’t in Kansas anymore. The airport was quiet, and every single person we saw was wearing a surgical mask. Jan got her disinfectant wipes out of her purse and insisted on wiping down everything we might possibly touch. I love that girl.
Our adoption escort was waiting at the airport in Changsha. He told us his name was Smile, that our paperwork had been sent to the