Words fail...

It's near impossible to describe this process. The anticipation, the
fears, the tears - both happy and sad. Ren is now a part of our
family, but he is in no way happy about it and I can't say that I
blame him.

We killed the morning with some ping-pong and watched the clock until
the appointed hour. Man, can those things move slow. Our guide was
also 15 minutes late, so we were standing in the lobby feeling anxious
and conspicuous for a little while. While he isn't rude or difficult,
I definitely get the impression our guide is none too thrilled with
his job. It did give us a chance though to meet a family from Georgia
who would be meeting their 8 year old daughter.

It was a relatively short drive to the hotel where Ren was already
waiting with a nanny and some of the orphanage officials. We were
ushered up to the fourth floor, and as we turned the corner, we caught
our first glimpse of him toddling down the hall with the nanny. My
heart fell back down to the main floor of the building. I can't
explain why, but there was something so determined and vulnerable
about him all at the same time.

We were led into a large room obviously set up just for this purpose
with a couple of rockers and balls and couches lining one wall. We
waited and could hear the chattering in the hall before Ren was
finally led in. The first few minutes, he watched us uncomfortably
and when his nanny referred to me as 'mama', he looked at her like she
was crazy. He was tentative and uncertain, and rightfully so. With
Kiyomi's help, I spent much of the time trying to get him comfortable
with us, while Kohji learned what he could about Ren's habits, likes,
etc. from the nanny with the guide translating.

I simply can't put into words the feelings - there are none. It is
not elation, though there is some happiness. There is no happiness
for Ren though, and we are expecting the transition to be a tough
one. He insists on keeping his shoes on when he's awake and often
points to the door. We can tell he was well loved in his foster
home. His foster mother dressed him in new clothing, sent along his
favourite drinks, saved the photo book we sent and added some of her
own. His loss is an enormous one, and we can't replace her. We can
only offer what we have, and hope that is enough.

All has not been tears however. After getting back to the hotel, Ren
napped from pure emotional exhaustion. When he woke up, he did drink
a little of the sweet milk his foster mother packed for him and was
willing to accept cheerios from me. After that, we had about 20
minutes where he played happily with his cars, laughed at Kiyomi's
goofiness and wandered the room with a little more certainty. It was
a brief flash of his personality before the grief set in again.

Kiyomi is taking it all in stride and doing her best to be helpful.
She is excited and explains that she knows that Ren is sad because he
doesn't know us yet. I'm sure it's strange for her, especially as it
seems Ren prefers me at the moment and doesn't want to be put down.
It's strange for me too, and after only one afternoon, I miss her
already.

Ren and Kiyomi are now both sleeping the sleep that only children can -
utterly complete and all encompassing with arms flailed out.
Tomorrow, we head out early to the same hotel to complete more
paperwork and make our promises to care for Ren.

Good night from Nanning.