Happy Gotcha Day

Exactly one year ago, a little Chinese girl was led into a room full of strange, pale faces all staring directly at her. She had never seen westerners before, much less spoken with any. For that matter, she had not met or spoken with many Chinese either. Virtually everyone on Earth was a stranger to little Tian Tian because in all her seven years of life she could only remember leaving her orphanage twice.

 Considering all this, she would have been forgiven for acting frightened or apprehensive that day. No one would have blamed her for being upset or reticent. In fact, it was expected. It was a day unlike any day she had ever experienced. Every day for seven years, Tian Tian woke up, ate her meager rations, sat around with almost nothing to do, bathed, and went to bed. Because she was born different (cerebral palsy) from the other children, she was not allowed to attend class and receive even a rudimentary education, despite the fact that she had no mental disabilities whatsoever. As she grew older and demanded less attention from her caretakers, Tian Tian was left to look after herself for most of the day. Inmates in American prisons are offered more educational and enrichment services than the innocent little Chinese girl received.

 In seven years, no one bothered to teach Tian Tian to hold her head up. No one showed her how to use chopsticks to feed herself. No one taught her how to blow her nose or brush her teeth. No one taught her how to use crayons or to write. No one taught her how to read. Despite living in a city that hosted the world’s biggest ice sculpture festival because the region is blanketed in a deep winter freeze for half the year, Tian Tian had never seen snow because no one had ever bothered to hold her up to the window of her room so she could see out and enjoy the natural beauty of the world.

 Tian Tian had every right to feel overwhelmed when she walked into the room that day to be introduced for the first time to her new family. But she wasn’t. When the silly looking white man approached her and said in garbled Mandarin “Wo shi baba. Wo ai ni,” (I am your daddy. I love you.), she smiled and whispered, “Wo ai ni, Baba.” (I love you, Daddy.) And then she gave me a hug. She repeated this process with her new mama, brothers, and grandmother, too. And then she held my hand and just smiled. We posed for a few pictures and signed a few forms and then my new daughter let me hold her in my arms for the very first time. Only it didn’t feel like the first time at all. It felt so natural and so right that it seemed that I’d been holding her for years. And perhaps I was, if only in my heart—and in hers, too.

 In one year, Tiana has made a remarkable transformation. Her short, brittle hair is now long and lustrous. Her legs that were so atrophied from inactivity that she could barely walk twelve months ago are now so strong that her favorite activities include dancing, playing basketball, and chasing her brothers on the playground at Ashland City Park. She has learned how to read and write. She exhibits wonderful table manners (when she feels like it) that include holding her head up, using a fork (or chopsticks), and chewing with her mouth closed. And she has seen and played in snow, something she still swears to this day does not exist in China. For one full year, I have been amazed and humbled (and frustrated) by this little girl on a daily basis. She is absolutely everything I could hope for in a daughter—and then some. Those who have had the privilege of getting to know Tiana over the past 365 days will agree that there is something very special about this child. To know her is to love her. To be loved by her is the greatest gift anyone can be given.

 Happy Gotcha Day, Tiana. Wo ai ni.