Unfortunately, that happens whenever my wife tries to hold her, feed her or touch her. A couple in our group who adopted in China once before said the same thing happened to them: The baby clung to the man and rejected his wife. Francine thinks it's because women are too reminiscent of the orphanage caretakers.
Under the circumstances, though, I'd say Mei is doing remarkably well after just a few days with us. I've seen the same glazed look on the faces of many other adopted girls here in Changsha and at the hotel in Beijing, and I'm sure they eventually will adjust, each at her own pace.
Our agency supplied us with slips of paper that declare we are not kidnappers, but so far we have not needed them. Everyone here treats foreigners toting newly acquired Chinese girls cordially, especially in the hotels, shops and restaurants that owe much of their business to the government's one-child policy, which helps make so many girls available for adoption, and its bureaucracy, which requires adoptive parents to linger (and spend money) while paperwork is filled out and processed.
Although it benefits some, there's a problem with dictating family size that the Chinese government itself acknowledges: too many boys. The government attributes the gender imbalance, which by 2020 could mean 40 million young men with no prospect of marrying and settling down, to the traditional Chinese preference for boys, which leads to abortion and infanticide as well as abandonment.
Yet the government's limits on reproduction obviously play a role: If couples were permitted to have more than one child, they might keep the girls and hope for boys the next time around. Of course, then we might never have met Mei. It's not a fact I'm comfortable with. Like Mei, though, I guess I'll adjust.