We sat at our gate, waiting for our flight, watching the chairs fill with people. Several families arrived, and I realized that for the first time in years, the sight of a little Chinese girl no longer sent a shaft of pain through me. Instead, I smiled and tapped my foot impatiently because I knew it was only a matter of days before I would have MY little Chinese girl.
The flight was full. Which wasn’t really a problem, except that the woman sitting next to Clint in our little row of three seats had the stomach flu. She got up shortly after she sat down and announced to us she needed to get to a bathroom so she could throw up.
We were hoping maybe she’d decide not to fly, but she stayed on the plane. Now, we’re hoping maybe it wasn’t the flu and therefore isn’t contagious. The last thing we need is to be sick as we receive our baby.
Most people slept a lot on this flight. I couldn’t. I watched a movie. Read a little. Took some cat naps but couldn’t ever get comfortable. Besides, there’s a constant low-level stream of adrenalin running through me at the thought that SOON, we’ll hold Johanna.
I have no idea what time it is. We boarded the plane at 11:05 p.m. Pacific time on November 3rd and are landing in Hong Kong at 4:45 a.m. Hong Kong time (probably not the official name for it, but that’s the best I can do right now) on Friday, November 5th. It’s weird to think that Thursday, November 4th, 2010 will never exist for us. A lost day. A skipped day.
The writer in me wants to make a story out of that.
The mom in me is excited to have skipped an entire day forward toward the best day of this year: November 7th. Gotcha Day.
I can hardly wait.
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