And a goat in the hatch

For all that didn’t happen yesterday, today was very busy.  More like an intense four hours, but it was enough to fill a day.  Zola had another bad night last night.  She was up several times but didn’t always eat much.  In her first two wakings, both prior to 2:00AM, she consumed less than four ounces of formula total. I’m not sure what to do to either get her to sleep through (letting her fuss is both premature for where we are in our relationship and not really an option where I’m staying) or eat more when she does wake.  Somehow, though, we’ll get through and work ir out eventually.  I woke up at half past seven, having missed the breakfast bell.  I got us dressed quickly to get down there before 8:00AM (at which time breakfast ends and you have to indicate your plans to attend lunch and dinner or get charged for both).  For Sunday lunch, we had the usual plus hard boiled eggs and apples.  I ate the egg and skipped the apple since I would’ve had to peel it, which is hard to do with a baby in arms. 

We spent the morning getting ready for our outing.  I gave Zola a bath and put her in another cute outfit (that barely fits!).  I got a shower myself and dressed in the nicest clothes I had that were still clean.  We spent the morning playing, and I went through my bag to make sure I had what I needed for while we were out.  We listened to an episode of Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, and Zola had a nap.  I gave her a bottle and changed her diaper at 11, and by 11:15AM, we were downstairs with all our stuff, waiting for our attorney to arrive.  The other family came down shortly thereafter, and we sat and chatted for awhile.  They went to eat lunch and then came back for a bit and walked around outside.  Zola fell asleep in the carrier.  By 12:30PM, we were all pretty much convinced it wasn’t happening, and the other family went up to their room.  I sat in the lobby watching soccer coverage in French (no idea) while Zola happily napped.  It wasn’t hot.  It was beautiful outside.  And we were out of our room.  By 1:00, I gave up, too, and came back to the room.  Zola woke up, and I gave her another bottle.  The other mom, Lindsey, came by to see if I wanted to go to Hassan’s, the supermarket down the street, and so I said I’d finish Zola’s bottle and change her diaper and meet them downstairs.

Two seconds later, Lindsey was back at my door.  Our attorney had finally arrived.  We were going to the orphanage as planned.  I changed Zola’s diaper and brought her bottle with me.  Jacky was there, along with Sabin, a woman who works for her, and a driver.  Sabin and the driver would take us to two foster homes and the orphanage where Joe and Lindsey’s son, J, had lived for two months.  Jacky and Sabin had a hard time finding a driver and a “big car” (actually a smallish crossover, kind of like a hatchback) on a Sunday.  Lindsey was confused why we needed a big car.  She thought Jacky said we were going to a market to get brats and a bag of grain for the foster family.  It wasn’t until we were en route that I told her the plan was to get a goat and a bag of grain.  We spent some time speculating about whether this was what was really happening.  But when we stopped at the market, Sabin asked for money.  When I asked how much, she said $250.  Joe offered to pay (which confused me), but I demurred and pulled out the cash.  It wasn’t until handed the money over that he realized we were talking about dollars, not francs!  They got the grain first, which we briefly thought might be it.  But then we went a little further down the road and turned into the smell of animal manure.  The speculation then turned to whether the goat would be alive or dead.  So there we sat – three White people with two young Black children, smooshed together in the middle row of a hatchback loaded with gifts for the orphanage, vitamins, and a bag of grain.  I’d heard a lot of horror stories from other families were harassed while in cars, with people peddling and children begging.  But no one approached the vehicle even though there were lots of people around.  The were a man just to the side of us selling sardines.  All around were fruits and vegetables and, evidently, some live animals (and top beef) for sale.  After a short time, Sabin and the driver reemerged with a small goat with his front hooves and back hooves tied up.  I saw his eyes when they put him into the back of the car and knew he was alive.  Joe, Lindsey, and I could not stop laughing.  We were not far down the road when the goat bleated loudly, causing Lindsey and I to jump.  It was, without question, one of the best moments I’ve had since getting here.

Another fifteen minutes or so, and we were at Momma Eva’s house.  Her daughters and another of the foster mommas were there, too, and everyone was excited to see Zola.  She was quickly taken from me and passed around to be held by all of them, especially Rossette, Eva’s daughter who had been her big sister in foster care, and Nahonie, whom I recognized as the woman who drove Eva to bring her to me.  Even Zola’s faster dad was excited to see her.  We passed out gifts to the children and adults, left vitamins for the babies and children, held the other kids (whose parents we’re in touch with on FB), and took pictures to send to their new families.  I told Momma Eva I would send pictures to Jacky as Zola gets bigger so she could see her grow up.  She was grateful for our visit and the goat and the bag of grain.  I was so happy to get to see her again and to be able to properly thank for her for taking such good care of Zola for the past three months.  I felt so much better leaving her this time because it was such a joyful experience compared to the day I got Zola.  I certainly cannot know for sure, but I would love to be able to see her again.  Perhaps she will mother our son in a future adoption. 

From there we drove to another foster home that was nearby.  All of us were sweating terribly at this point, including the kids, but we were excited to keep going.  There we met another foster mom and her daughter, who together care for another group of kids, these ones older.  The foster mom took Zola when we got there.  I think the two homes must visit with each other and play together.  A few minutes in, though, Zola cried as much and as loudly as I’ve ever heard.  I think she was terribly hot and thirsty.  And for the first time, she got handed to me to take care of her.  I pulled out the premixed formula I’d brought, put it in a bottle, and calmed her down.  She chugged it down.  Joe and Lindsey gave out gifts and took more pictures while I fed her, and once again, we were off. 

Our final stop was the orphanage where J lived before moving to foster care.  (This is a common practice.  I think Zola was never in an orphanage because she was so young, and so she either went straight to foster care or was in an orphanage in her commune further away.  She may also have been in the hospital for a period, as Jacky said she was quite ill when first found.)  The orphanage was considerably further away, and everyone was getting very hot in the back seat.  I gave Zola her pacifier, and she tried to sleep but whimpered for most of the drive.  J also fell asleep for a bit.  We saw a lot more of the city, up in the hills, and ended up on a very rough road up a hill to the orphanage.  The streets in Kinshasa are rough anyway.  Except for the main thoroughfares, which may also have large potholes, all streets have deep ruts and bumps and can be difficult to drive on.  But the dirt road up to the orphanage was something else.  I held tightly onto Zola as her head bounced around, and the three of us could hardly believe when we made it up the hill.

When we walked into the orphanage, the children were assembled outside.  One little boy walked up to me and hugged my leg.  The children, maybe twenty or more of them, got up and walked to shake the hand of each adult, greet us, and then sang a welcome song.  We were invited inside, where we sat on couches that the orphanage mother covered in beautiful fabric for us as guests.  Joe and Lindsey got to ask questions about their son, where he came from, and his time in the orphanage.  The father then said a prayer before we handed out gifts.  I left all of the remaining vitamins there, and we gave away all of the gifts we had left.  Joe and Lindsey had brought boxes of chalk and crayons and coloring pads, while I had a few balls, cars, and puzzles and some toothbrush packs to hand out.  It was all too soon time to go, and before we left, the children sang us a farewell song.  It was clear from out time there that they were as well cared for as possible, given the circumstances.  The orphanage father and mother have instilled in the children respect, manner, and order.  The kids all looked clean.  One little boy had a bandage on their head.  Sabin was not sure whether the kids there were all eligible for adoption, but regardless, because of their age, many of them likely would not be.  What happens for those children, I’m not sure.  Street kids are very common in Kinshasa. 

It was a hot 45-minute drive back to the hotel.  Joe, Lindsey, and I chatted more and talked about all that we’d seen.  They’re a really nice couple, from Louisville, and Joe is very much about getting out around the city while here to see and do things.  They had their visa already when they came, so they’ll only be here a week or more.  I was so thrilled they came with me as they had considered not going on Saturday because their son has been rather sad.  He seemed to be unphased by the outing though, even warming up when he saw Nahonie (who had cared for him at Momma Eva’s) and the orphanage father.  And I was excited to have shared the sites and experience with someone else. 

When we got back to the orphanage, Zola and I went to the room to cool down.  I peeled off her clothes and gave her a quick rinse.  I was shocked to see that despite two full bottles and almost five hours, her diaper was barely wet – evidence of how hot it had been.  The internet connection was strong, so I tried Skyping with family and was so frustrated when no one answered.  I was just about to step into the shower when my sister called me back, along with my parents who were visiting her.  They got to see Zola and talk for a minute.  When they heard I still hadn’t talked with Wes, they called him on the phone to get him to the computer, and I hung up with them to call home.  There was a sound issue and so Wes couldn’t hear me, but the kids were able to talk to me and see the baby.  It was nice to see them, and they’re clearly handling my absence very well.  We said goodbye as Zola was ready for bed. 

I wish that I could have captured today for Zola (it is illegal to take pictures out in public here, especially as a foreigner).  The Congo I saw today was not the lawless, war-torn, impoverished nation it is so often portrayed as.  It is those things, most certainly.  But that’s not the place I saw.  I saw a Congo that is bright and beautiful and vibrant.  I saw hillsides with lush trees.  I saw home of every manner painted in the colors of the rainbow.  I saw mothers and fathers with children, keeping them out of harm’s way as cars rushed by.  I saw women dressed in beautiful fabrics and headscarves, and men relaxing with friends and drinking at a bar on a nice summer day.

This is the Congo I am reticent for Zola to leave.  It is the one I hope she comes to know one day, so that she can feel proud of where she is from.  It is the place I hope to bring her back to.  There are lots of reasons why there are so many children like Zola who need families, but it’s not because the place they’re from is worthless.  It is a wonderful place full of caring people – like those we visited today who have spent the last several months taking care of my child and who will love her for the rest of their lives.  I have seen – and will see more of – the other Congo, I am sure.  But today, I basked (and sweated) in the Congo that is so often kept invisible from the public’s eye, holding in my arms one of its most beautiful treasures.

Sleep (!) and poop (!)

It’s not even 5:00PM yet, but I feel safe to write the day’s post because I assume nothing will really happen in the next few hours.  Mostly because nothing has happened all day.  Today was the first day I had something to do.  Something jotted down in the little brown notepad I brought with me.  It has Zola’s feeding schedule (when I remember it) so I can figure out how many ounces she’s eating per day.  And my attorney’s cell phone number – if I had a phone to use or a reason to call her.  And other such important things, like the two things planned for today: go to the orphanage with another family whose son was also with Zola and Skype with Wes and the kids in the afternoon.  But as anyone who has ever spent any time in the DR Congo – and certainly any adoptive parent waiting at St. Anne’s to take their child home – will tell you, expect nothing.  That’s usually what happens.

Zola had a good night’s sleep last night.  She went down around 7:00PM, then was up at 9:30, 1:45AM, at which point she ate very little but after a lot of squirming took a big poop, and then maybe 6.  She slept almost the whole night in her own novelty bed until 6, at which point she ate and fell back asleep in my bed while I got ready for the day.  We went down and had breakfast where I chatted with friends.  The new family who arrived the day after me came through, and I got to say hello.   There was bacon (cooked soft) and mango along with the daily offerings of bread, spread, coffee, and tea.  After breakfast, Zola and I came back upstairs and played.  I packed up all the toys and gifts and vitamins along with supplies for Zola to take when we went out to the orphanage.  Zola went down for a big nap at 10:00AM and slept soundly for over two hours.  The new family came by to drop off my gifts for the orphanage.  Their little boy who is two is having a hard time warming up and getting used to his parents, and they were reticent to take him back to the orphanage just one day after leaving there.  It’s got to be so confusing for kids that age.  I’ve commented to other moms that Zola occasionally gives me this look, especially when waking up, like, “Oh, you.  You’re still here.”  She doesn’t seem sad, but maybe a little surprised.  I imagine I’m one of few White people she’s ever seen. 

When noon passed with no one knocking at my door, I made the safe assumption that the orphanage visit was not going to happen.  Which is fine.  It may or may not happen while I’m here, and if not, the attorney will get all the gifts and donations over there.  I ate a little for lunch.  So did Zola.  She pooped three times.  We played a little more.  We went to the common area where a pastor and his wife and two children were sitting.  The little boy was very curious about Zola and came over to play with her, making his toys climb around her and hiding a small one in her pocket.  He found a small wad of Play-Doh and put his hands behind me and hid it, then brought them forward and made me guess which one it was in.  Then he would give it to me and I had to hide it for him.  Zola wearied eventually, and I brought her back to the room for a bottle, after which she fell asleep for maybe half an hour.  She woke up happy and babbling and pooped again.  It’s turn from a gray to green and now to more of a yellow color.  About the same time as her second nap, the internet stopped working.  I can’t tell right now if it’s my devices or the service itself.  It shows full bars on the network I’ve been using, but when I try to connect, it says “Unable to join the network.”  And so out went my second scheduled activity of the day.  I was very much looking forward to seeing everyone and letting them see Zola.  I walked downstairs later and was able to join a different network that let me at least download a few emails.  I tried Skype on my phone, but to no avail.  I’m really hoping this is temporary.

Our walk around the building put Zola back to sleep.  I have to admit I’m a little nervous about tonight.  Hopefully she’s just overly tired from not enough sleep the first two days together and she can now sleep more soundly tonight.  I did learn last night that she sometimes makes a lot of noise even when she’s asleep, so I’m trying to wait to pick her up and try to feed her until I’m convinced she’s really awake.  It interrupts my own sleep more, but it’s better for her and me long term if she goes longer stretches at night without a bottle.

There’s another storm rolling in that has kept the temperature down and brought a nice breeze.  Each room on this side of the building has a screened in room separated from the rest of the air-conditioned space.  Zola and I sat out there some this afternoon and just enjoyed the breeze.  It overlooks the river, where there’s lots of big equipment for – so far as I can tell – logging (based on the number of cut trees laying in a pile).  I snapped a picture to show Oliver that Lofty is right outside J

So that’s my day.  A whole of nothing, but in the company of a delightful (if sleepy and poopy) companion. 

8:54PM update: So maybe not nothing.  My attorney came by a little while later.  We are going to go out to the orphanage and foster home tomorrow.  I’m not sure if the day got switched, or Sunday came out Saturday in her original statement.  She was happy to see Zola, and one of Zola’s foster sisters from Eva’s was there, too.  We made plans to get a goat and a bag of grain for Momma Eva as a gift.  Evidently, that runs about $230.  A little more than I expected, honestly, but not nearly enough for the work that she does.  We can afford, so why not.  I also found out that Jacky has not received any of the money we’ve sent for our legal fees.  She didn’t realize we’d sent Moneygrams instead of wires to her bank (I didn’t know we were supposed to), and so she hasn’t picked up a single one.  My first thought was – you did our whole adoption without having received any money?  And my second thought was – why didn’t someone tell me this months ago?!  I gave her the receipts for all three payments, and she’s going to try to pick them up on Monday.  If she can’t, Wes will go to the place where I ordered them and get refunded the cash.  I can then, in turn, take money out here and pay Jacky. I also found out that our payments included eight months of foster care – which I knew, but I thought it was just a payment towards that, not an actual monthly fee.  Since Zola was in foster care for less than 4 months, we’ll get $2000 of our fees back.  That’ll buy a few goats. 

Jacky was having trouble getting ahold of the other family, so I relayed their message about their little boy being sad and reserved and their hesitation in taking him back to foster care.  Jacky said that he had been in foster care for two months and hadn’t spoken once the entire time.  Evidently, sad and reserved is just his way – so far anyway.  She said she wasn’t sure what happened to him before he went to the orphanage, but she feared someone had been very unkind to him, making him like he is.  I asked his new parents about it, and they said they had wondered the same thing.  He cries a lot with them, especially when he wakes up.  Such little people.  Such hard lives.  And so many of them here.

After Zola’s 7:00PM bottle, I went downstairs to see if I could get an internet connection to Skype with Wes and the kids.  Alas, there was none, but I found many of my friends downstairs waiting for pizza to be delivered, and they invited me to join them.  We waited a while, making small talk in the lobby while the babies babbles and rubbed their eyes.  The pizza came.  It was good.  It’s probably the first real food I’ve had since I got here a few days ago.  Another mom who was hoping to leave tomorrow got a long-awaited phone call from her attorney, who told her that she did not yet have her exit letter – something about a piece of paper missing from a file – and she has rebooked her flight for Wednesday, hoping it comes – as her attorney promises it will – by Monday, but giving herself a bit of a window, too.  By this time, Zola was ready for a bottle and bed, so we said goodnight.  An agency coordinator walking through offered bananas, which I accepted.  We’ll have some for breakfast tomorrow. 

So our Saturday plans got moved to Sunday.  I found out that over $14,000 paid has never been received, but that will hopefully be rectified on Monday, and we’re getting $2,000 of it back.  And a goat and some grain cost $230 in the DRC.  And I ate some pizza and got some bananas.  Compared with the rest of the day, I’d say that’s not bad for three hours.

  

Eat, poop, -- and sleep?

Today was the kind of day I think there will be a lot of in the next two weeks.  Zola and I did not leave St. Anne’s and hardly left our room.  We spent the whole day together, just the two of us.  And that was great.

We had a pretty poor night of sleep last night.  She went down around 7:00PM and was up at 10:00, 1:45AM, 4:45, eating every time, at which point she was awake until probably 5:30, and then I was up just after 7 to get some breakfast.  She took the pacifier a little, which helped her go back to sleep.  She slept in her special bed for the first few hours but ended up in bed with me for the rest.  We saw our friends at breakfast, one of whom left for home tonight after four weeks here with her new daughter.  I had hoped to meet the new couple who arrived last night and is using the same attorney as us, but they weren’t there.  Zola smiled at everyone in her pink pajamas and did well while I ate.  We played in the room for a while.  Just after 9:00, she took a nap.  I thought – hoped – she would be down for a while, but she ended up sleeping just 45 minutes or so.  We spent the rest of the morning eating, talking, singing, dancing, and drooling (her, not me).  She is fascinated by my hands and loves nothing more than chewing on my fingers.  Which is fine, except that one of her bottom teeth has broken through and is very sharp!  We walked around the building some, just to move when she got fussy.  She seems to really like the carrier is always calm when I have her in there. 

After lunch, I walked around the building again and talked for a few minutes with the woman who was leaving.  Zola bumped her mouth on the arm of a chair and began to cry, though, and so I took that as a cue to head back upstairs.  After a bottle, I got her down for a nap in her little bed.  She woke up not long after, though, and knowing how tired we both were, just put her in bed with me.  We ended up sleeping about two hours, with some intermittent fussing. 

After, we did more of the same – playing in the room and went to the common area to look for other families.  We met a family from Texas – the couple was on my flight from Brussels – and chatted more with an agency coordinator who is here with her young child.  Both of them have relinquishment cases, meaning a family member left the child at an orphanage rather than the child being found with no known relatives.  As a result, the relinquishing family member – in both cases here, the father – had to come to the US consular’s office to be interviewed before the visa would be issued.  This had caused delays in their cases, but it was done now and at least one of the families has their visa and is just waiting for an exit letter.  Listening to them talk about their child’s birth father was interesting.  On the one hand, our case has moved more quickly because Zola has no known relatives.  With the proper paperwork, it is the most straightforward kind of case.  On the other hand, we have no information to share with her about her parents.  These children have photos of their father, in one case with their father, and a name, address, the knowledge of biological siblings.  Zola will not, and it is not something I can give her.  And for that, I am sad for her. 

This evening we did more playing and dancing.  I FBed with some other moms about how much formula she should be eating and decided that Sunday (when the supermarket is open again), I need to try to get a bigger bottle and get her to take larger volumes with less frequency.  She needs the amount she’s taking, but it would be nice for both of us if she weren’t eating so often!  She took bottles at 5:00 and 7:00PM, and after the latter, fell to sleep in her clothes from the day.  I went ahead and put her down in them, knowing she’ll be up at some point, at which point I can at least change her diaper.  She’s had two poopy diapers since yesterday, which is great, though they look very strange.  We’ll do a stool sample once we’re home for the pediatrician to see if it’s an issue.

In general, though, we’re doing really well.  I find myself looking forward to Tuesday, just to have some sense that the visa really will be issued and we know we’re going home in a reasonable time frame.  Zola is doing so well with me that I have to frequently remind myself that she doesn’t know me.  That I’m a nice lady holding her, but she isn’t necessarily attached to me yet.  One of the Congolese ladies who works at St. Anne’s took her from me today to show her to another child, and Zola looked back at me, as though for affirmation this were okay.  It made me feel good, that perhaps all this focused time together is helping her more quickly figure out the situation (and me, too!). 

Tomorrow is the day for an orphanage visit, if it all goes as planned.  We have lots of gifts to take, as well as a large donation of children’s vitamins from friends and family.  I’m curious to see how Zola does with her foster mother nearby again.  I don’t want to upset her, but given how little we know about her past, I want to be able to say I saw where she lived for most of her first five months of life.   I’ve also planned to Skype with Wes and the kids, who sounds for the most part like they’re doing well in my absence.   Even Lucy is, reportedly, doing well with dog-fence training.

And so, off to bed I go, with high hopes for a better night of sleep.

The first time, ever I saw your face

My youngest daughter is asleep in a large rolling suitcase padded with seat cushions and disposable diapers.  She’s been freshly bathed, the puffs in her hair removed and her silky locks combed out.  She has diaper ointment on her raw bottom, and the crud from her neck and belly rolls has been washed out.  I don’t have nail clippers or an emery board to deal with her sharp fingernails yet, but it’s on the list for tomorrow. 

Today was one of those days that can only be described as surreal.  It seems so normal, and yet to describe it to recognize just how monumental a day it was. 

I woke up just before my alarm, set for 7:00AM.  I didn’t sleep well most of the night.  After a late bedtime, I woke just two hours later to a roaring thunderstorm outside.  I was cold with the air conditioning on, which is the only that made it okay when it stopped working midway through the night when the electricity went out and flipped the breaker.  I showered (oh, the cold showers), dressed, and wandered slowly downstairs to breakfast.  I ran into another adoptive mom I know online on my way there who told me where to go and said she’d see me there.  Breakfast is break, spreads, cheese, and some kind of fruit – today, maybe pomegranate?  Coffee, tea, filtered water.  I ate a little, chatted with the other mom, her daughter, and her own mom who had traveled with her.  I met several other moms who are also here in the midst of their adoption proceedings, as well as the in-country coordinator for one of the agencies that works in Kinshasa. 

After breakfast, with the assurance of my newfound friends, I walked to the end of the street to Hassan’s Market, where I saw lots of phones but no one to sell one to me.  Rather than attempt a conversation in English, I bought dish soap and some toilet paper and walked back towards the hotel.    The US consular’s office is midway between the two, and at the suggestion of my attorney – and with high hopes for good news – I stopped to check on Zola’s visa.  The guard at the door took my name and passport number, went in to see if Sarah would see me, and then motioned me inside through a metal detector.  I sat with a crowd of other people – mostly Congolese – waiting to be seen.  After half an hour or so, Sarah called me back.  She checked on my visa and told me it would be ready at 3:00PM – next Tuesday.  At first I was a little surprised.  Jacky seemed confident I would have it by the end of this week.  But then, that is the nature of this process.  People are often sure about things that don’t actually happen.  I took comfort in the fact that (whether it happens when promised or not), I have a date now to look forward to and don’t have to spend each day hoping it will come.  If I actually get the visa Tuesday, Jacky can apply for our exit letter on Wednesday, and we may make our February 20 flight – something that just a few days ago I was worried might not happen (and of course, may still not).

Jacky told me she was bringing Zola at 10:00AM, so shortly before then, I went down to the front porch of the building where I’m staying and sat outside to wait for her.  Some of the mom’s I’d already met were there, and we talked more.  They came in and out on their way to do their own errands.  One mom met a local clothes woman who had taken fabric Christine bought and turned it into beautiful dresses for her daughter.  Sometimes I sat alone, but there were people in and out of the building constantly.  The weather was unusually temperate for this time of year (thanks to the storm last night), and it was pleasant to be outside while still in the shade.  Sometime before noon, a man came out from the desk of the procure to let me know that Zola was on her way.  Shortly thereafter, another mom and I saw a car pull up.  It wasn’t Jacky, though, so I paid no attention.  It was only when I saw a familiar baby come up the stairs with her foster mother that I realized she was really here. 

In all the paperwork and planning and even traveling I did for this adoption, I didn’t give much thought to what today would be like.  It seemed so far away through the whole thing.  But finally, today it came. I greeted Momma Eva and the younger woman who had driven with her to deliver Zola.  Zola was just as chunky as I expected.  When I leaned down to talk to her, she gave me a huge smile and started babbling.  Eva let me take her, and then, she was mine.  We made small talk for a few minutes on the porch – or tried to since Eva speaks almost no English and I no French.  I discerned that Zola was eating well and perhaps recently started solids (though my efforts tonight suggest maybe no baby food).  Her hair is growing quickly, they told me.  She can roll over – I asked, and thanks to another mom nearby with some French, she was able to affirm it.  I told Eva that I had a gift for her I would bring on Saturday, when another family and I go to visit the orphanage. I thanked her several times, though I don’t know if she could understand me.   After our brief visit, they made overtures to leave.  Eva took off her glasses to wipe her tears away, and I hugged her again – wishing the language barrier weren’t there, making it so hard to console her or tell her we would take good care, send pictures of her growing up through Jacky. 

After they left, Zola and I spent most of the afternoon in the room, just being together.  I changed her into a cooler outfit, which shockingly fit.  I confirmed that she has a very round belly and thighs and the most beautiful deep brown skin.  She has a bit of a cold – a runny nose and subtle, wet cough.  She ate after not too long, and I was relieved to see she took the American formula and at room temperature with no protest.  She took a short nap mid-afternoon.  I let her sit on the bed with pillows behind her and we did some tummy time.  She definitely needs a lot of hands-on time to get her sitting better and holding herself up in general.  I let her try and stand some with support, and I put her in the GoPod to play.  At some point, I put her in the carrier and walked the halls a bit, talked with another mom who got bad news about her visa (and who has already been here two weeks with her daughter, who is the same age as Zola), and bought three large bottles of water for the room.  I snacked at lunch and made Ramen in the hot pot for dinner.  It’s so warm, and I’m getting so little exercise, that I really am not hungry for the most part.

As evening began to fall, I did up Zola’s bed and pulled out some pajamas.  With great effort, I gave her a bath.  There are large buckets in the bathrooms, and I filled it with water from the shower and one pot of boiling water from the hot pot to make it warm.  She seemed to like it and tolerated it well when I washed her hair and brushed it.  I lotioned her up well, and after about six ounces of formula, tucked in to her novelty bed. 

She is wonderful.  I haven’t really heard her cry yet, but she gives lots of other indications when she’s hungry or thirsty.  She’s cutting her bottom two teeth and is just drooling everywhere.  She smiles a lot, with her whole face, and babbles – almost shouting – all the time.  She seems to be doing okay so far with a stranger taking care of her.  And hopefully, by the time we leave for home, I won’t be a stranger anymore.