So, I thought I was prepared for come what may as I rode by car the three hours north to Schuchinsk from Astana (the capital) the next day to take Sam from his baby house, his only home for his first 12 months. I was wrong. When I walked in, expecting Sam to remember me from our seven weeks of bonding that Tonya and I shared with him between Christmas and Valentine’s Day, I felt a heavy sense of dread as Sam burst into tears of fear, shaking at the sight and sound of me – he had no idea who I was and was trembling with terror. Of course, I played it cool – not a problem! I insisted – as we dressed Sam in his new clothes, strapped him into the baby carrier I was wearing, and walked out into the cold air, with him screaming at the top of his lungs.
As he cried himself to sleep in the back of the car, now speeding its way to the Astana airport for the in-country flight to Almaty, it was time for some serious God consultation and re-calibration of my expectations for the days to come in Almaty (where his exit processing was to take place) and then the long, long trip home. I asked to be given daily bread – hourly bread actually – to have the peace needed to be there for this terrified little boy. I fought back tears, and stayed in a state of prayer for much of the three-hour drive back to the Astana airport.
I won’t put our blog readers through the scene at the airport, and subsequent day to day life in our Almaty hotel, but I know you can picture it. Fear-based crying, interspersed with moments of temporary calm, as Sam’s body took over his mind to make sure he ate and drank. Amazingly, I remained relatively calm and even peaceful throughout, staying focused on Sam.
It soon became apparent that Sam wasn’t eating and drinking enough, and since he was often strapped to my chest, he was receiving plenty of chest virus germs as I breathed down on him, having become sick the second day I arrived with the “crud” that’s going around Middle Tennessee right now. That turned out to be a bad combination, and by Tuesday, Sam was in pretty bad shape as we ventured out at midnight to begin the 30-hour door to door trip home.
We had two significant flights – Almaty to Frankfort and Frankfort to Chicago – both nine hours - and Sam somehow managed to scream and cry through most of both. Concerned flight attendants hovered trying to help, other passengers shared words of comfort and of course a few passengers shared looks not so comforting, and Sam viewed them all as potential threats, sending him higher into orbit.
The flip side to all of this was that there was only one place - one person - where he could escape and seek refuge – his daddy, and even though I still hadn’t passed full muster with this little guy, I beat the alternative of all these well-meaning strangers. And gradually, through it all, he began to trust me more and more.
Our seat mates on both long flights were angels and a saint – a Kazakh woman and her mother flying with her 12-month-old son to meet her husband in San Francisco, and an Indian man on the way to the States on business who proudly spoke of his own two kids back home. Neither was the least bit bothered by the din – and just the opposite, repeatedly did anything they could to make our lot better – cleaning up around us, taking down bags, then stowing them again, swapping seats – anything I asked for and much I didn’t. And always with a smile and a tenderness that affirmed all that can be good between fellow human beings on this pale blue dot of a planet.
On Wednesday evening April 6, at 6PM, our final “cigar tube” flight touched down in Nashville, and our long awaited uniting with Tonya and Lily Grace took place. It was special, but I was so sick and tired (literally) it didn’t fully register. But one moment did – Sam was intrigued the minute he saw his beautiful sister Lily Grace (who wasn’t sure what to make of him) and he reached out his hand and grabbed hers. LG swelled with pride and said “he likes me!” and a huge sense of relief came over Tonya and me. Not that we weren’t going to have adjustment problems, as we certainly will, but because in that one moment, we could see what was possible for this new family of four.
Sam’s dehydration and sickness got worse, and Friday night, we wound up in the emergency room of Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital, where he received two rounds of IV fluids and a chest x-ray, which confirmed that Sam now had pneumonia. He received IV antibiotics to “get ahead of it”, and we have been administering oral antibiotics ever since. After we arrived home, Lily Grace was treated to some special big sister celebration time by her cousins, including a sleepover and a trip to the zoo. What a blessing to have such a supportive family to make her feel special throughout this time of adjustment.
Today, Sam visited his pediatrician for the first time, and his doctor liked what he saw – a little boy becoming comfortable with his mommy and daddy, fighting his pneumonia, and giving lots of smiles and eye contact. He declared that Sam is on the way to full recovery and adjustment and the second huge sense of relief came over Tonya and me.
As we reflect on the last several days, the ultimate inspiration is Sam. He left everything he had ever known, was scared, then sick and managed to have the fight in him to see it all through, and the lung power to prove it hour after hour after hour. He’s a tough little guy, with a huge heart, and it is a privilege to welcome our son into our family. Throughout, all of your prayers have sustained us and we can not thank you enough. It’s been miraculous to us, and we’ll be reflecting on all that we’ve experienced for years to come.
Steve
