And so...

I hate to leave you all hanging.  All three readers.  But, as you probably know whether you've adopted or know someone who has, or, heck, just traveled to China...the trip and re-entry tends to be a tad bit bumpy.

So after a really fun Christmas Eve and late night packing, we left the Shifu at 5am on Christmas Day to start the very long journey home.  Door to door it was about 28 hours of travel.  Leaving China with a new family member is always sad and happy for us.  It breaks my heart to think about what had to happen to this little perfect baby in order for her to be ours.  But I know that given her circumstances, becoming our daughter is the best thing that could have happened.  Especially for us. We are the lucky ones.

Christmas breakfast at Hong Kong airport Tsui Wah.

Goodbye, China.

Do not be fooled and think that the entire plane ride was this peaceful.
Or, that even 10% of the entire plane ride was this peaceful.

The first flight while long (13+ hours) went reasonably well.  The big girls slept on and off and were able to be entertained with videos.  The baby, on the other hand, was able to be entertained by...nothing.  Wriggling and wrestling me for hours on end was about it.

The Christmas Feast at 38,000 feet!

Snacks, snacks, and more snacks.

Our third daughter officially became a US citizen when we landed in Chicago.  By this time, I was clearly coming down with her bronchitis, so I was barely able to utter a cheer, never mind break out into the National Anthem.  It was a little different this time than with Emmie and Rosie.  Instead of the officer simply taking the hallowed Brown Envelope and sending us on our way, he ushered us into a back room at Immigration.  I overheard an officer say to another individual there, "Your fingerprints showed up in our system.  Do you want to explain the reason that might be?"  Another man was sitting there with his head in his lap, nearly in tears.  There were several interview rooms and for whatever stupid reason I got nervous thinking that they were going to ask me some questions I was not prepared for.  As it turns out, they went through our paperwork (and several other adoptive families returning home) pretty quickly.  We went through that annoying pick up your bags/recheck your bags scenario, rode a train for what felt like the entire length of the Red Line, and then relaxed for the rest of our 4 hour layover.  Well, as much as you can relax in an airport, feeling completely filthy, tired, and unable to breathe from bronchitis.

Christmas dinner part deux--McDonalds at O'Hare.
We were all feeling pretty beaten down at this point.

The last leg of our journey probably felt the longest.  We were all so tired we felt crazed.  The kids were inconsolable.  Patrick was still feeling crummy from the end of his latest illness, and I was getting sicker by the minute with Frannie's bronchitis.  With my ears feeling like ice picks being stabbed in them, we descended into Boston's Logan International Airport and I had the same twinge in my stomach I've felt twice before.  This is it.  Here we are.  I can see the Pru.  There's Boston Harbor.  Those are the streets we walk on when we go into the city.  The city we love is the same, but we are returning different.  And I feel scared.  Nervous that I am enough mother for this little person who deserves the very best.  Worried for her health.  Anxious about her tiny heart as it heals.  But we are not only different...we are better.  Better for what we have experienced.  Better because our hearts are fuller than ever with love for these three girls.  "Welcome to Boston.  The local time is..."  And before I know it we make that surreal walk through the airport +1, our weary selves are greeted by our family and we are home.

Impromptu late night Christmas Dinner redux.  This time with *real* food
courtesy of my mother and sister!  We have another meatball lover!