That evening, we are introduced to our adoption guide who also served as our translator. She was accompanied by a physician who would be available if needed for any of the babies. Since we could not visit the orphanage in Anquing, we were told the details of how our children would be brought to us in the hotel. Nobody in our group was able to contain their excitement as we learned that we would meet our daughters the next day to begin local adoption proceedings.
At nine the next morning we gathered in a large conference room with several Chinese officials. A few minutes later we were informed that that the bus had been delayed, but that the orphanage attendants would arrive in 40 minutes. Finally, just as it seemed that we could wait no longer, the first baby came through the doors carried by a young woman who worked at the orphanage. Upon seeing her, her parents jumped up and cried for joy as they raced to embrace their new daughter. Several minutes later, two babies were carried through the door by attendants. The baby on the left was unmistakably Amy. Susan and I ran to her and hugged her for the longest time. After 13 months of waiting, we now held our second daughter.
Amy's diaper was wet and Susan ecstatically performed her first responsibility as a new mother. At 11 months, Amy had the most beautiful face with big brown eyes and chubby cheeks. She has a full head of straight dark hair. Over the next couple of days, it was amazing how quickly Amy bonded with us. She loved to be held and often fell asleep while lying on my chest. She refused to take formula unless it was sweetened- apparently milk in the orphanage had been sweetened with cane sugar.
On Amy's first birthday, I took a cab to a book and card store to purchase a candle for a celebration. The taxi driver helpfully accompanied me inside to help translate. I was very grateful and left a tip equal to at least a week's pay for the average person in China. Susan and I celebrated our daughter's birthday in the hotel buffet and dining room. We placed the candle in a small cupcake and sang as tears rolled down our faces. Amy was much less impressed with our singing than the taste of the cupcake.
Dr. David Loewenstein is author of For the Love of Rachel: A Father's Story by Enalan Communications www.enalan.com



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