Part 8/8: The Road to Chicago
We hauled ourselves out of bed at 6:30 on Friday; we had been told to arrive at the Embassy by 8:15 for our 9 a.m. appointment. Waiting for the elevator near our 12th-floor room, we looked out the plate-glass windows and remarked upon the thick brown pall of smog. Skies were overcast and threatening.
It's a 20-minute hike from the Ploenchit/Wireless train stop to the Embassy, but Meg did well in her back carrier. The appointment was a no-brainer, and after paying various fees we were told to return at 3 to pick up the visa. Shortly after we arrived at Dietheim Tower, where we'd gone to make some photocopies, the skies opened and a mini-monsoon commenced. The deluge lasted about half an hour, during which we hung out in the lobby caf?. We next took a cab, more like a boat at this point, to the Thai Red Cross. They had asked us to bring them copies of our DPW paperwork and to return Meg's original birth certificate, which they said we'd get back after our post-placement reports and consent were finished.
Khun Vo showed us what kind of boxed milk to buy for Meg, and we said a final friendly goodbye to members of the orphanage staff. We stopped at the small grocery store next to the orphanage for the milk and other items for the plane ride home, and also took photos of Meg in front of the Chulalongkorn maternity hospital, where she was born. Meg was clearly sleepy after two early-morning wakeups in a row, and we walked back to the hotel, where she napped.
Back on the train, we headed for the Robinson's department store near the intersection of Siloam and Phra Ram IV roads. I bought a couple of sets of sister dresses in cute designs, and was interested to observe the Thai practice of having a clerk take your credit card and your merchandise to some remote corner of the store, then return it all to you as you stand waiting in the aisle. We then walked to the Continental travel office around the corner, where we were finally able to solve our airline upgrade problem. A cab back to the Embassy brought our paperwork to a quick and efficient end, when we were handed Meg's passport and a thick sheaf of official papers, with the visa peeking out of a slotted sealed envelope.
We were glad to see Meg in a playful mood, and back at the hotel she enjoyed a rousing game of beach ball with her dad. Rod then did some more local shopping and Meg and I tried another bath. I read her a book as we rested on the bed together, and she dropped off to sleep.
Lynn and Tom and their five-year-old met us in the lobby at around 6, and we walked several blocks to the Hard Rock Caf? for dinner. We enjoyed hearing about their family and adoption decision as we shouted over the rock music and munched on Western food, including nachos and huge barbecue sandwiches. Meg, alas, threw up midway through the meal after chug-a-lugging too much milk. (We were eventually to learn that this was a pattern.) It didn't seem to upset her, and after I changed her clothes, we finished a nice (if noisy) meal. The servers were enchanted with the kids and wanted to carry Meg around, but she would have no part of it.
We returned to the hotel about 8:30, and called home briefly. Meg had a pre-sleep tantrum and then crashed.
After a mostly peaceful night's rest, we rose at 8 on Saturday, our last day in Bangkok. Rod was drowning in sinus drainage, perhaps pollution-related, and the forecast was for a muggy, 100F+ day. We debated a trip to the Grand Palace and agonizingly decided to go shopping someplace air-conditioned instead. With Rod feeling crummy and with the oppressive weather, toting Meg around through palaces and museums just didn't seem like the best idea. "Next time for sure," we told each other.
We had our final buffet breakfast and went back to Naryana Phand, where we bought many more souvenirs, including traditional clothes and a nice jewelry gift for Meg. Rod was happy to buy a khon mask and Ramakien dolls, though I worried a bit about packing them. A brief power outage, during which clerks whipped out their apparently familiar flashlights, added a fillip to the morning. Lunch at the Naryana Phand food court featured Vietnamese-style noodles, which Meg wolfed down. It was the first decent meal I'd seen her eat.
Arriving back at the hotel around 2, we spent a lazy afternoon. Meg napped for an hour and seemed to be visibly loosening up around us. I spent a good deal of time packing and repacking suitcases in preparation for our early morning departure. We'd learned some good lessons on our China trip and left more room for "stuff" this time around -- and we had donated all our baby leftovers, including diapers, to the orphanage to make even more space.
In the evening, we crossed the soi and had dinner a block away at Ban Khun Mae (Mama's House) restaurant, recommended by Khun Vo. The food was delightful, especially the pandanus-leaf chicken and pineapple fried rice. Alas, Meg was tired/wired again, and I had to trot back to the hotel with her while we were waiting for the food, in order to get her some crackers and toys. There was a classical music show scheduled for later that evening, but in Meg's squirmy condition we decided to take a pass, since we had already made a spectacle of ourselves (much to the amusement of the Thai wait-staff).
At the hotel, we gave Meg a bath, after which she wanted to laugh, tease, and run around the room. She succumbed to sleep around 8:30, and I did some final suitcase shuffling. In my travel journal, I recorded early impressions -- that she was "playful, affectionate, rabidly curious, wildly active, and stubborn as hell." (As I write this months later, those descriptors still seem pretty accurate. We've since learned that she is also smart, and determined, and fearless.)
After a mostly sleepless night we rose at 2:45 a.m. to catch our 6:15 flight. Coffee and pastries were being served in the lobby; apparently many members of the Northwest flight crew were also staying there. A number of clearly intoxicated couples staggered by, gawking at our unconventional family as we ate our Danish. A smooth, fast cab ride took us to the airport, where we arrived at about 4:30. We proceeded slowly but uneventfully through customs, check in, and passport control. Alas, our much-labored-over upgrades only worked on the Bangkok-Tokyo and Minneapolis-Chicago legs; Tokyo-Minneapolis, the 10-hour phase, was sold out. At least the trip home was several hours shorter than the trip over.
The 5.5-hour Bangkok-Tokyo flight was pleasant, and Meg slept about half the time. We enjoyed the personal video systems, cushy seats, and nice food in business class. We had an hour stopover at Narita before being shoehorned into the full coach cabin for the flight to Minneapolis. It was less bumpy than our outbound journey, and Meg slept a good bit again. I was able to watch most of an adaptation of Jane Austin's "Mansfield Park," the only one of the four in-flight movies that interested me at all. Meg, alas, had a monumental vomiting episode about halfway into the flight. Fortunately it was just curdled milk, but I'd only brought clean clothes for her, not me, so I was a mess for the rest of the trip.
We arrived in Minneapolis about 10:30 a.m. local time, zipped through immigration and customs, and were warmly greeted at the domestic gate by Kate, a local parent, and her son Dale (previously adopted from Thailand). It was lovely to see friendly faces, and they'd brought a nice Asian doll for Meg. Back on the plane at around noon -- Rod and Meg slept for the entire flight, which lasted less than an hour.
At O'Hare, we received a loud and conspicuous reception from my mom, Alice, and a number of family friends and their kids. Alice was overwhelmed, crying and laughing simultaneously, her arms around my neck in a death-grip. It was surreal to be back on familiar turf but starting a very different life. Rod and I were both feeling woozy, but we managed to stay awake till our regular bed time. He persuaded his doctor to prescribe an antibiotic over the phone, which soon cleared up his sinus problem and probable eye infection. I came down with something similar the next day, but it cleared up on its own.
Our first week as a family of four was marked by sleepless nights, multiple tantrums (by both kids), and jet lag. My mom stayed for two more days, providing great moral support; I was sorry to see her go. Within 10 days, however, things started to improve. And I began to fall in love with my child -- not just my idea of Margaret Nuthamon, but the wonder-girl herself.
One afternoon during those first difficult days, she woke screaming from a nap. I picked her up and sat down with her in a rocker, and she stopped crying and snuggled into my lap in a trusting, intimate way. Her eyes closed again, and I rested my cheek against her soft, curly hair. For the first time -- but completely and irrevocably -- I really felt like her mom.
The fact that I managed to write Alice's travel story within six weeks of our trip, and it took me four months to do Meg's, is indicative of the differences between life with an only child and life with two. Meg has cranked up the daily intensity level by several notches, but she is a delightful (if sometimes exhausting!) kid, and we are so grateful to have her. She was in excellent condition and had clearly received plenty of attention, and we are very thankful to the folks at the Thai Red Cross, who took such good care of her. We hope to continue our contact with them and return for a visit in a decade or so. WACAP, too, deserves credit for handling our paperwork efficiently and especially for going to bat for us when unexpected problems arose.
The Road to Bangkok was a bumpy one, but I'm glad we persevered. I know my original intuition about seeking our daughter there was right, and that God has done a fine job of putting our family together. My passing regrets about the trip -- too much paperwork, too little free time, and too many hours without Alice -- are minimal compared with my store of wonderful memories.
Once again, we have been amazed how the Lord can lead us down paths we would never have chosen, but which ultimately seem so right. We're looking forward to bringing up our baby bird, and then watching her soar from the nest. Just yesterday, Alice -- who's had many rough moments adjusting to the new status quo -- said to me, "Mom, I'm so glad I have a baby sister. I really love her."
Me too, Alice. Me too.
JSH
July 2000