Culture Shock
What Pax Jolie-Pitt is in for, if my adoption is any indication.
by Melissa Eva Miller
April 5, 2007
We flew to China and whisked our new daughter, whom we named Iris, into our arms. But it was hardly a joyful moment on her part. She was terrified, and stayed so for that whole first week in China. She refused to eat for
almost forty-eight hours. She alternately cried when I got up to walk across
the room and pushed me away. Huge tears
would roll down her cheeks while her face remained still. She screamed when I
undressed her for a bath. It took three days for her to smile. At dinner one
night, she refused to come back to me after being held by a Chinese waitress.
When I managed to get Iris back, she slapped me. The transition
was excruciating for her and for us. How much harder must it be for a child as
old as Pax?
Almost two years later, that scared little girl is gone.
Now, almost two years later, that scared little girl is gone. Iris no longer
remembers Chinese, and for a span after she turned two she would even shy away
from anyone who looked Asian. She would shake her head emphatically when
a Chinese friend tried to hold her and croon to her in Mandarin.
She loves to announce that she was born in China, but she prefers to fast-forward
past the birth mother/foster mother chapter and get to the part when we came
to get her and bring her home. She often asks me to read her I Love You Like Crazy
Cakes, a Chinese adoption story in which the mom looks a lot like me. Chinese
culture will always be a part of our life, because we want her to know about the
beautiful country she comes from. My husband, Eli, devotes weekend cooking to
Chinese dishes, and we go to events at our agency that expose her to other families
that look like hers.
Unlike Angelina, who can whisk Pax back to his birth country any time, we need to plan for years to finance another trip to China. But in other ways, we've tried to make life easier for Iris. At the age of two, she attempted to use chopsticks, so we bought her her own pair. We maintain contact with her foster family, sending photos and little gifts. Her foster mother once responded by sending red sweaters for Charlotte and Iris. Some afternoons, I put on a CD of children's
songs sung in Chinese, and the two girls dance and sing along.
Today, the girls are playing in the backyard. I look out my back window and see Iris, running around with her
big sister, her spring-lamb legs skipping through the grass. And in that moment, I understand why Angelina is so addicted to
adoption (rumor has it she's at work on a fourth). Watching Iris frolic around, I find it hard
to believe
there was ever a time that she was someone else's daughter.
©2007 Melissa Eva Miller and Nerve Media
About the Author
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A former handler of sled dogs in Alaska, Melissa Eva Miller writes young-adult fiction, plays and poetry, and is slowly working toward a master's degree in theology. She lives with her husband and daughters, Charlotte and Iris, in eastern Pennsylvania |
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