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Tears welled up as I watched her stand in line with friends. Candy had recently graduated from high school and was returning to the country of her birth. This moment in time brought back memories of my first trip to China. I was with a group of excited couples. We called ourselves the “parents-to-be." Some were returning to China to adopt another child. There were others, like us, who were on our first journey and had traversed through the maze of international adoption. We had prayed and hoped for God to bless us with children of our own, but that was not to be. We were heartbroken.
I remember receiving the first photograph of her. She won our hearts; with her big brown eyes and smiling face. She was only 7 months old. Friends, who previously adopted children from China, were there for us every step of the way. Our hearts melted when we saw her for the first time. She smiled at us as she lay in the metal crib. We enveloped her in our arms and hearts.
“Mom, I’m all set,” exclaimed Candy, excitedly.
I was brought back to the present. Her father and I walked with her to the escalator.
“Remember to call when you arrive.”
“I will. Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll be okay. I’m with friends. We’ll stick together.”
It was time to go. We all hugged. I watched as she rode up the escalator with her friends.
Memories flooded my mind. I remembered when Candy was little and asked why she looked different from us and our relatives. Were we her real parents? I knew then it was time to share her history - what little we knew. She had been left at a police station, in Maoming and then taken to a local orphanage. A note, found attached to her outfit, simply read, "please love her." As the ayi (caregiver) also referred to as aunties, handed Candy into my arms, we cried, smiled and laughed together. We traveled by train on a warm August day to the U.S. Consulate in Guangzhou, to finalize the adoption. We called that day Gotcha Day.
I recalled celebrating her birthdays with a Chinese meal or getting together with families who had adopted children from China. We made trips to Chinatown in San Francisco. We wanted Candy to learn about her Chinese heritage.
At the top of the escalator, Candy turned; smiled and signed I love you, in sign language. Smiling, I signed back. It was a quiet way of expressing our love. Indeed, she was loved!
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