HAPPY HOMECOMING, SWEET BABY S!
One year ago today:
Thursday, January 22, 2009
We landed in Istanbul and scurried to our next connection. All of our connections for the return trip were very tight, and we knew if we missed our last connection we would be in big trouble, because it was the last flight of the day to our little hometown airport. We didn't even want to think about that happening.
My dear friend had loaned me a "Hug A Bub" baby carrier for the trip. I never would have made it without that! Sweet baby S weathered all our racing around very well, snugged up close to me, just watching all our craziness.
We raced our carry-ons through the airport and tried to figure out which line we should stand in for a transit visa. We found one and settled in to wait, then got the sinking feeling that we might not be in the correct place after all. There were lots and lots of security personnel around, but none could understand our questions. I finally struck out down the airport walkway and waved down a security guard who did speak English. I pointed toward the rest of family waiting in line and asked if we were going the right way. He shook his head, "Oh, no! You are about to get a visa to stay in Turkey!" Yikes. We scrambled out of the long, weaving lanes and followed his directions to another long line. Time was ticking and our one hour to connect was almost gone.
As we waited, R was absolutely miserable. She'd started turning grayish green somewhere over Egypt, and by now she looked like she felt~ terrible. Standing in line she made several hurried trips to a nearby trash can, just in case. The line took forever, we all chewed our nails, and finally got the paperwork we needed to pass through the first, of many, security checks back into the airport. We then proceeded through three more security checks, each with its own infuriating requirements: take off all jackets and overshirts, remove all headbands and clips and belts, dump purses and bags completely into trays for close inspection, dump out all of the kids snacks and the baby's supplies. One inspector even broke the seal on the little bottles of formula I had as emergency backup for the baby and then proceeded to stick her nose in them! I was seething inside, but we talked nice because the whole thing was so intense and the guards were so frightening.
Then began the scrutinization of our passports. We thought it would never end, and as we waited and answered questions, again and again, we could see the last of our flight's passengers loading and we heard the last call being made. And still, we waded through more and more and more security checks. It was beyond anything we've ever seen in any airport, and I hope I never have to go through that again. The adults finished the whole fiasco frustrated and angry, and the kids were downright exhausted. But we raced down the jetway in the nick of time and were the very last passengers to board. There was an audible groan from the other passengers when we walked onto the plane with all our children, plus a baby, for an 11 hour flight!
We crammed our carry-ons into the compartments and wearily slumped into our seats, and once again our family was scattered to the four winds. For reasons that are still not clear, the guard from the final security checkpoint boarded the plane not once, but twice to look at Mike's passport. Each time he compared it to some sort of hand-written list he'd brought with him. Scary!
The flight! was tough. Poor R sat by me to help with the baby, but she was sick as a dog over the entire Atlantic. The boys did OK, and they enjoyed sitting with their Daddy, but they were all several rows up from us so it made communication almost impossible. I was, once again, in the very middle of the center aisle, next to a very grumpy person. Whatever one kid needed was invariably in the bag tucked under the seat an adult on another aisle, and our bags were such a mess after security it made it hard to take care of everyone. DaddyDon was on another row, but he was able to reach back and pass the baby back and forth. Gram even folded down her tray table and we made a little bassinet on top of it with our jackets so sweet baby could stretch out a little. We all did our best, took turns helping the kids, dealt with several dirty diapers in flight, discovered the restrooms were overflowing about half-way to Chicago, and just ignored the attendants who were overworked and less than helpful.
But the highlight of the trip was sweet baby S. For the entire 11 hour flight, she either looked like this:
or like this:
Seriously. She was the happiest, sweetest little traveler you can imagine. I know lots of adoptive parents who've suffered through long, exhausting trip home with screaming children ~ and I bet they really want to throw tomatoes at us!
It was funny, because several hours into the flight, those same folks who groaned when we boarded stopped by our seats and chatted with the children and smiled at the baby. They said they couldn't believe how wonderful all our kids were! What a treat to talk to folks from all the over world about our great kids!
Chicago finally came into view, and we again had an uncomfortably tight connection. We braced ourselves to run out of the plane, snag our luggage (yes, for our convenience, our luggage was again NOT checked through, so we had to retrieve it all and recheck it all), hit customs, and then make our gate to head to Texas. It was a scramble, but customs went by quickly and we made the long trek to our departure gate. We even got to ride the trams again, so that was a highlight of the trip for my little train-loving guys. Plus, it was snowing outside the airport windows!
We boarded and fell into our seats again, then got ready for a 3 hour leg of the trip. We would be in Dallas by evening, and home was getting closer and closer. Baby S was still doing just great, though she was obviously tired. I'm sure she wondered if this was what her new family did~ just run through airports, hop on planes, sit for hours, then do it all over again. Poor baby. We couldn't wait to get her home and show her the grass and the trees and her own soft bed. And I was still itching to give her a good, soaking bath in clean water!
By the time we landed in Dallas the baby had wet through her clothes and despite several Dramamines, R was sicker than ever. HA was nauseated from low blood sugar (he needs to eat a lot and often), and HW was so tired he was teary. We pushed the kids to drink some juice, at least, changed the baby in record time, stuffed our carry-ons back together, and boarded that last plane. We'd made every tight connection, and we were just minutes from home turf now. What a relief.
Our little plane made the hop so quickly we barely had time to get settled. HW was sleeping as if he was unconscious.
R got to try out the airplane sick bag just a few minutes from landing. Notice the gray tinge~ it stayed with her the entire trip home.
Sweet baby slept, and we all praised the Lord for getting us home from halfway around the world.
Our loved ones waited with signs and good cheer to welcome the weary travelers home, and to get their first peek at baby S. It was such a blessing to see all their smiling faces when we walked through those doors.
After four flights, 36 hours through airports and on planes, and travel across four continents, we were finally, finally all home.
Happy, Happy Homecoming, Sweet Baby! We are so blessed!