In Our Arms!

Phoebe's with us!

We got word on the bus on the way home from the airport that the babies had arrived before us at the hotel.

She didn't cry when I took her into my arms. Mark cooed the baby talk and I held her head under my chin, at last, and cried.

She stayed with her foster family straight up until this morning, so the nannies from the orphanage couldn't answer our questions: Does she have a nickname? Does she talk? What's the bedtime routine? How does she like her milk? So, we took her back to the room to figure it out. We undressed her-- just like her Grammy Kate undresses her newborn grandbabies-- and found a little dirt, a fair bit of eczema, and a generally healthy little girl. She took a bottle and started to play.

She's big! Her 18 month pajamas didn't fit her tonight, and I'm afraid she and Miranda are going to both be in 2T. At 15 months, she sits with help and doesn't stand-- much more floppy and less active than a typical kiddo at her age. But she babbles (or is it Chinese?), giggles, points, plays peekaboo with a blanket, makes great eye contact, snuggles, and looks for lost toys. I think she's going to be just fine.

Picture coming tomorrow-- Everyone's asleep but me, and I must get there, too.