Almost there

I am reading China Ghosts by Jeff Gammage. "China Ghosts is the story of a girl. It's the story of a father. It's the story of a family." So reads the promotion.

It is too soon for me.

I picked the book up, in part because I read every book about Chinese adoption I can get my hands on, in part because it has topped the list of best selling adoption books and in part because I wonder if I could write a tale of our own story, if I have anything new to say, any other emotions to tap.

But it is the first memoir about Chinese adoption I have read since we returned home with Cate, and it is too soon. I didn't expect it, but my emotions are too raw. The experience, although, in the end, one of the best of my life, was filled with too many harrowing times, too much intensity.

Gammage, for his part, alludes to these times, describes them in a paragraph, a page or two, and moves on, but I know what that paragraph cost him, what it cost his wife, Christine. It is too soon for me to read this book, but I know I will not stop.

We recently viewed some pictures and videos of the moment we met Cate. It was like any moment of great significance in anyone's life. It is unforgettable, but the details are all a bit shady in my mind. I often wonder, if it weren't for photography, if it weren't for video, how would our histories change? How would our minds alter the reality to fit something we are more comfortable with remembering?

And so the moment with Cate. What strikes me, looking at these moments, captured forever on film, is the rawness. Her face. Her fear. I can touch them. I weep just looking at them, the pain of my little girl. They will never be seen here, these images that capture the beautiful moment my daughter physically entered my life. I will not show them. They are too intimate. Her emotions are that palpable. And, I suppose, if I am honest, so are mine. So are mine the moment I am handed this terrified, sobbing, tiny girl. So are mine.

And I feel them when I read this book.

Whenever we endure a great challenge in life, I think there is a period of the intensity of the unknown, followed by great joy or sorrow, depending on the situation, and then a quieting of the spirit as it starts to heal and absorb. We have to get through that period before we can look back with the distant reminiscence that becomes the greater part of our life's memory book. I realized this week, that I am very much in the healing part.

A few days after we first met Cate, we walked through the streets of Nanjing one magical night. She felt as if she had been ours forever, and yet, we did not know her at all. The air was alive. Alex was enchanted by the city at night. We were all enchanted by the sheer wonder of it all and Cate began to sing, "Donn, donn mei-mei," over and over and over.

She sang it again just the other day. There was an instant catch in my throat. That night came flooding back to me with a power I hadn't felt since the minute I lived it. She has sung that song since that night, many times. Even Alex sings it now. But somehow, just this week, it all came back in one powerful flood, perhaps more powerful now that I know this little one, now that we are truly in every way, a family.

I suppose there are many ways, as people, we know we are family. For some, it is simply blood. For others, a shared history. For me, it is more than that. It is the shared moments. It is the songs. It is the fear. It is the laughs.

On Sunday morning we sat around our kitchen counter eating breakfast, just like every other day. Cate made a funny noise and it made Alex laugh a belly laugh for a full minute. She loved the attention, and did it again. It was a beautiful moment, a moment I laughed, and thought silently, "We have become a family. We are a family."

Cate turns three in just a couple of weeks. It will be more than a birthday celebration. It will be a celebration of my heart, my love, my joy. She has become a part of our every day, the good, the bad, the momentous, the mundane. We hustle to get her dressed in the morning, laugh at her dancing, feel frustrated when she whines. She is our every day.

And for that, I am forever grateful whatever ghosts I may face.