Glimpses of LongLong and his nanny JiaJia are seen in a screen grab of a pre-adoption video. Five years later, after being adopted and moving to the U.S., LongLong and JiaJia have reconnected.
We only got a few glimpses of her. A woman, perhaps in her 60s, with a colorful blouse and a jade bracelet. A little boy — now our son — sits comfortably on her lap in video clips the orphanage sent us. He’s quietly eating a banana as I imagine he had hundreds of times during his two-and-a-half years in her care.
In 2018, my husband, older son and I traveled from San Francisco to Wuhan, China, to adopt Longlong. Like other adoptions from China, we know nothing about Longlong’s biological parents. “Jiajia” — the local, Wuhan term for maternal grandma — is what Longlong called his foster grandma from the video.
She is our only tie to his life before Gotcha Day, when orphanage staff escorted six toddlers into a conference room to meet their adoptive families from the U.S. We met our son, who was confused, upset and bundled in four layers of clothing to protect him from the Wuhan winter. Foster families who dropped off the children that morning weren’t permitted to meet the adoptive families.
We returned to the U.S. a few days later and settled into a new chapter of our lives with two young boys, Lightning McQueen race cars and the “Baby Shark” song playing on repeat. Longlong spoke of Jiajia now and then, but with no way to contact her, we didn’t spend much time thinking about her.
Then, in January 2020, Wuhan entered the first of China’s strict lockdowns to contain the coronavirus, which had just begun to spread around the world. And we began to worry about Jiajia. We wanted to find out if she was OK. A friend put me in touch with a reporter in Wuhan who offered to write a story about my search. Our family being in the U.S., however, made the otherwise apolitical story sensitive; President Donald Trump had begun calling COVID-19 “kung flu” and “China virus” and conspiracy theories about the coronavirus’ origins spread.
“Let’s wait,” the reporter told me, “When U.S.-China relations improve, we can publish the story.”
But in the past three years, relations between the two countries have only gone from bad to worse — most notably this February when the U.S. military shot down a Chinese spy balloon that had violated American airspace. From there, tensions only increased with political observers describing relations between the two countries as on a "dangerous" path with "no trust" on either side.
Meanwhile, China experienced its biggest COVID surge to date, following its sudden relaxation of restrictions in December 2022. Experts believe that more than a million people, most of them older, have died from COVID-related complications already this year.
We began to worry about Jiajia again.
Last month, I recorded a short video message about our search for her and uploaded it to WeChat, China’s dominant social media platform, which has more than a billion users. I shared the video with the embarrassingly few friends and relatives I have in China. I told Longlong we’d try our best to find her, but it was a long shot.
Then, somehow, the video went viral.
“I hope Longlong finds the grandma who loved him so much,” wrote one commenter.
“Every person in Wuhan will cry when they hear Longlong call for Jiajia. I hope for your wish to come true,” wrote another.
Within 48 hours, 250,000 people had watched the video. And then a message appeared from someone claiming to be Jiajia’s son. We set up a video call.
The moment her smiling face appeared on my screen, Longlong’s face lit up.
“It’s her!” he said, instantly recognizing Jiajia even though five years had passed since he last saw her.
We were finally able to thank her for raising him and tell her what a healthy, active and generous boy he’s become. Through tears, she described how she slept with Longlong every night so he wouldn’t be scared of the dark, how much he loved eating noodles and how she prepared him to join his forever family.
“It’s fate that has brought us back together,” she said.
While doing dishes together after our call with Jiajia, I asked Longlong, now 7, how he felt after talking to her.
“I feel more home,” he said.
For some of us, a sense of home — of identity — is complicated. It’s not limited to one country’s borders. It’s not defined solely by one’s passport. As U.S.-China relations grow colder, it is everyday families who are bearing the human cost. But with a little help from China’s netizens, our family has managed to find a small crack in the ice.
Ling Woo Liu is a writer based in the Bay Area. Now that China has begun issuing tourist visas for the first time in three years, she hopes to bring Longlong to Wuhan to reunite with Jiajia later this year.