Attachment Archives - Page 14 of 16

March 2, 2011February 27, 2011

Love Story

Dear Miss A,

I always knew you liked him. I did. I saw it when you smiled at him. I saw it when your eyes lit up when he entered the room and how your first giggle was for him. It has always been there. But, it was too hard for him to see.

From the beginning, you would go to him freely. No fussing. At all. It’s just that you always kept your eyes on me. You’d squawk when I left your sight. You’d squeal when I returned. You kept track of my every move, even while he held or entertained you. And, at first, he was fine with it because it was subtle and everything was new

On the flight home, your fondness for me grew to a definite preference. You only wanted to be by me, on me, with me. The first weeks home were a blur of survival for all of us, and I knew that having you close to me was key in helping you feel safe and secure. We kept your routine predictable, outings to a minimum, and put you in the wrap anytime we went out. It made you feel safe and happy and solidified your bond…with me.

Your preference for me was undeniable, and he began to feel left out. He wanted to bond with you and experience affection instead of rejection. Seeing you reach for me time and time again was hurtful and took its toll. I still saw the way you smiled at him and were excited to see him, but he was beginning to get frustrated. He understood, but it hurt.

However, being who he is, he never gave up. He continued to reach out for you, spend time with you, care for you, be silly with you, comfort you, hold you, bathe you, and feed you…while you reached for me. The smiles and giggles I saw you give him were often overshadowed by your whining for me. But, you are his daughter, and he knew it would come…eventually.

Then, as if someone flipped a switch, things began to change. The whining and reaching for me lessened, making the smiles and giggles you gave him more obvious. You began to run full tilt to the door when he came home from work. You squealed as he “chased” you, urging him to keep doing it. You smiled at him just to get his attention. He noticed and soaked it up.

Over the past month, I’ve had a front row seat to watching the love between you two blossom and grow. My heart swells as I watch you run full speed to greet him at the door. As you lean out of my arms and into his. As you bring him book after book to read to you and then walk backwards until you plop into his lap settling your head against his chest. As you giggle and play peek-a-boo with him in your highchair. As your whole body wiggles in celebration when he comes to pick you up from nursery.

You see, he’s waited a very long time for you to return his affections. He’d have waited indefinitely, but I’m so glad he didn’t have to. I’m so glad you two are forging your own love story through silly rituals and goofy games. I don’t even mind when you prefer him over me.

I always knew you liked him and that the love would come. I’m just so glad that he’s beginning to know now, too.

He’s waited a long time to be your Daddy.

Love,

Mommy

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Stephanie has been married to Matthew for over 5 years. She

February 22, 2011June 28, 2011

Foster Care: The Struggle

I dropped ‘my’ little boys off for their visit with their parents and their 2 year old sister. I watched the joy in their mom and dad’s eyes as they hugged the boys and talked with them. I saw their sister smile excitedly as we drove up, and I watched as LM leaned into his mommy’s arms, giving her a big hug.

As I watched them walk away together I thought, they need to be together. I want them to make it. I want this family to be restored. To know the joy of family. To ultimately know the joy of Jesus.

And I felt so peaceful watching them.

Two hours later, I pulled back in to pick up the boys and as I hugged them and loved on them, I thought, “No. How could I ever give them back? I love them so dearly. They have become part of our family.”

And yet we have to live with the expectation that they are going back home. We live with the reality that most likely, we will be saying goodbye.

My heart says one thing one minute and then another the next. But I’m so thankful that I don’t have to trust my heart, I trust the ONE who never changes. I trust Him with my heart and with my kids’ hearts. Each one.

February 21, 2011February 17, 2011

More Learning Through the Adoption Process

Originally published on her blog on September 25th, 2010….

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I woke up last night–okay, let me rephrase–Trevor woke me up last night at 2:00 with a bad dream. I quickly got him back to bed, tucked in tight, listening to Christmas music (his choice–good boy!), and went back to bed.

I was still awake at 3:30 when Jay Henry came in after having a nightmare.

I simply could not turn my brain off.

I truly feel like I’m failing Emebet. In every way possible. We make it through each day. But we are not moving forward. Every word, behavior, action, gesture and complaint from her cause me to react poorly. Even if it’s nothing extreme or purposeful, my immediate response and feeling is dislike. I do not like her. I do not like her being here. And I make her know it. This is not always the case, but often.

This has created a huge conflict in me. Why in the world do I act this way? How can my love for my biological kids be real and genuine, if I can treat another child so differently and with contempt? Why, when I am constantly praying and asking God to change our circumstances, do I go right back to these wordly, selfish actions? I know that my actions towards her cause her behaviors. I have no doubt about it. But it seems impossible to change my feelings. And we all know that it is so hard to act one way when you feel the exact opposite. I have always worn my emotions on my sleeve, and Kent can clearly verify that I cannot hide anything.

But last night, as I lay awake, praying for God to change this in me, my thought process changed a little. I turned the tables, and played my own devil’s advocate for our situation. If I were the one in a new home with new people and a family that was already established, and I was treated the way that I treat her, how could I possibly feel loved, cherished, important, or equal?

I absolutely wouldn’t. I would feel sorrow. Pain. Loss. And I, like her, would respond with defiance and anger. She is acting exactly like I am.

We are both experiencing pain. We have both experienced loss. We are both living in the midst of sorrow. And neither one of us is handling it well.

Immediately upon returning home, we were convinced that she needed rules and structure, which we quickly put in place. In doing so, I think we skipped over the part where we needed to love, love, love. Unconditionally and without reserve. No rules. No expectations of her. We seem to still be in that place. Expecting so much (partly because she is so capable). Giving so little.

My thoughts then went beyond that.

Most of you know what a scary beginning we had with Masyn. Almost losing your child creates gratitude that is huge. Deep down, she holds a special place that no one else can, because I know how close we came to not having her. She is my precious, precious girl who causes tears often because I am overwhelmed with love for her. Completely overwhelmed. It is really hard, then, to add in a child who creates the exact opposite feelings.

So after putting myself in Eme’s place last night, I put Masyn in Eme’s place and tried to imagine her losing us, her family. I then imagined the pain, terror, and uncertainty that she would face being relocated to another country where she didn’t speak the language, and never seeing her sweet brothers again.

And then I tried to invision her being placed in a home where she had a new mom who disliked her, and couldn’t see her for the amazing little girl that she is. And where she was yelled at all the time just because she was different than their existing daughter. And where she was not loved on in the midst of her grief and adjustment, but was told to stop crying because it was annoying.

This completely broke my heart. I would be devastated to know that my daughter were in such a place. I would be heartbroken that this little girl, who was so amazingly special to us, was being treated indifferently in what was supposed to be her new “family.”

I spent much of the rest of my “awake” time asking God to forgive me–yet-again–and to help me, every moment, shower Eme with love. I want to create an environment of security for her. I want her to know that she is loved, just like the others. That she is special. That we want her here. I want my behaviors towards her to be so different than what they have been. Mostly, I want my heart to want her here. I don’t want it to be fake. I want it to be genuine.

Today has been good. Her behaviors are still present, but my reaction to them is different. I am calm and loving in my responses. I am hugging and kissing on her any time I get the chance. I am trying to look at her through different eyes.

I know our struggles aren’t magically over by any means. But getting back to that place of surrender is key. God can’t change me when I’m being stubborn and closed-minded, and I have been living in that place. Bitterness has crept in and taken up residence. Last night, lying in my bed while the rest of the house slept, I wrestled with God, and He returned me to the place where He needs and wants me to be. Completely dependent. Completely reliant.

Hopeful.

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Kent and Lindy have been married for 10 years and have three biological children (two sons ages 8 and 6 and a daughter who is four) and our newest addition, Eme, who is 2

February 17, 2011February 16, 2011

Thinkin’ About Love

Waggoner post pic1 — Ellie's card for her classmates for Valentine's Day

Naturally, given the holiday we just celebrated, my thoughts have gravitated to the subject of love. It’s such a basic human need, but one I took for granted in many ways until Ellie became our daughter. Most of you who visit our blog are aware of the state of social deprivation in which we found her. I cannot let my thoughts drift to what her life was like in the 18 months before we met her — it’s too painful. This weekend, my parents were at a retreat in Durres (Albania) and met an individual who tried to volunteer at Ellie’s orphanage about a decade before Ellie came to reside there. This individual reported that the caregivers strongly discouraged her efforts to come and hold babies because “it made their job too much work” — the babies would come to expect to be held. Our visit this past summer reminded me what a bleak place it really was. So quiet. Too quiet.

Waggoner post pic2 — 2 months before she was referred to us

Before I knew Ellie, I didn’t think about the fact that giving and receiving love is a skill that must be learned and practiced. Much like one masters skills best when training starts early in life (I think of skills like learning languages, playing instruments, training for figure skating, etc.), learning about love begins at day one! To start learning about love later is so much harder when one is bruised, scarred, weakened, and handicapped from a starvation of love and affection.

While Ellie has made great gains in learning how to appropriately give and receive love (for instance, we’ve moved past last year’s struggle to restrain her indiscriminate and inappropriate affection towards strangers), she still carries deep-seated needs that are not immediately obvious to those who don’t spend time with her on a daily basis. It can be exhausting to us when at age 5 and a half she still relies on us to do many things for her that her peers can do for themselves. Things like going to sleep on her own, sleeping through the night in her own bed, dressing and undressing herself, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, using the bathroom independently (though she has begun to make strides here since Christmas, thank you Lord!), and even feeding herself sometimes. While this is tiring, I remind myself that for her, a deep need is being met when we care for her in these most basic ways.

When I think about how she came into our lives, I’m left with no doubt of God’s intricate work to weave our family together in His way and in His timing. He knew she needed to be raised in a family with two work-from-home parents where she could find the stability and security she desperately needed! (As her communication has developed, we have learned how great is her fear of abandonment still, which breaks our hearts). Then, in His perfect timing, he brought Reni into our home. Sweet Reni who came to us in a more emotionally healthy, secure state, so his needs and hers didn’t conflict (yet in spite of his wonderful care at the orphanage — you can still see the difference a family makes, even in him). Ellie is learning how to love her brother — and while that is mostly being expressed in a smothering, hovering kind of way, we can honestly tell people that she does not express any feelings of jealousy towards Reni (she has acted out a few times when meeting new people and he gets a lot more attention just for being the cute baby he is, but her behavior doesn’t seem abnormal). We are really proud of her and thoroughly enjoy witnessing their interactions (most of the time 🙂 ).

Ellie’s needs are not as obvious as Reni’s and it is sometimes easy to forget. Of course there are certain things we would never expect of Reni because he lacks legs, yet because Ellie’s needs are not obvious, it is a battle not to place unrealistic expectations on her but to remember special ways to nurture and accommodate her while training her to one day lead an independent life. We got a powerful reminder this weekend when she received a special gift from Nonna and PaPa for Valentine’s day.

Both children received special books that have the text read to them when each page is turned, but in the prerecorded voices of Nonna and PaPa. On the very last page, Mom Waggoner concludes Ellie’s book with, “Nonna loves you, Ellie!” Over the last couple of days, we have frequently found Ellie holding the book and opening and closing it to that last page just so she can hear, “Nonna loves you, Ellie!” At which point, her face breaks into a smile. Words of affirmation are her love language! It has served as a reminder that she doesn’t get tired of being hugged and kissed and reminded that she is cherished.

Likewise after waiting 28 months for Ellie to call me “Mommy,” I still don’t tire of hearing her calls or receiving her hugs and kisses. When we’re alone together, she will often tell me, “I love you, Mommy. I don’t love Daddy, I love you.” I know she adores her daddy, but I think she’s just trying to tell me that I mean a lot to her in a special way.

So when Ellie comes to our room at 3AM to crawl in bed, we don’t turn her away (though it often means that Daddy walks down the hall to sleep in her room). And when she makes progress in becoming more independent (like putting on her jeans this Sunday all by herself, minus snapping the snap), we heap praise on her and tell her how proud of her we are.

Loving Ellie has been easy and loving Ellie has been hard. Through it we have learned (and continue to learn) about a love from our heavenly Father who patiently nurtures us, waits for us to receive His love, and longs to hear us express our love to Him. Parenting Ellie has reminded us that loving and trusting God has to be learned too. We bring our own wounds and hurts to the relationship, but if we listen carefully to the Book He has given us, we can hear God say on every page “I love you child!”

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Cydil has been married to her husband and teammate, Nathan, for 11 years. They have two adopted children, Elisona (5) and Reni (18 months), both adopted from Albania. Their family lives at and runs a missions student center on a Christian college campus in the Bluegrass of Kentucky. They love their work, sharing their passion for missions and adoption with university students. In her

February 2, 2011January 18, 2011

Just Like Mama

Marlie has been having trouble lately with the fact that she just doesn’t look like her Mama. She is always trying to find ways to match me, but it’s difficult to accomplish beyond clothing. For a year, she’s been asking for a purple streak in her hair like mine. For a year, I’ve been saying no.

But, with the increasing frustration she’s had lately over our differences in appearance, I’ve been re-thinking it. Still on the fence, it was Marshall who changed my mind. He was all for Marlie getting a purple streak, telling me, “It’s just hair!” And, he’s right. And, I started to think, if this simple gesture will help her bridge the gap between our physical differences, it will be worth it. But, before I told her yes, I consulted with her African American hair stylist and with my hair stylist (who does my purple streak) to make sure it would be safe to do on a child so young. They both assured me it would be just fine to do. It would change the texture slightly and require more conditioner than the rest of her hair but otherwise be fine.

Soooooo… I came home and told Marlie we could give her a purple streak in her hair. To say she was excited is an understatement. She was elated. It was just before Christmas when we told her she could get it done, and she would ask almost daily when she was getting her purple hair. Finally, I made an appointment for her to get her hair done today.

This week, she was counting down the day until her appointment. She kept informing her big brothers she had an “appointment” to get her purple hair. Last night, she was excited to go to bed and go to sleep early so today would come sooner. This morning she couldn’t wait to get to the hair salon. And while I gave her the option of picking the location of the purple streak, I was unsurprised that she chose to have it in the same place, same side as I have mine.

Here is her “before” picture.

In order for the purple to show up on her hair, they had to first bleach her hair. They have to do the same thing to my hair as well.

Then Marlie had to spend some time under the heat lamp while her hair lightened. I wisely brought along an iPad to help her pass the time.

Surprise! Marlie has “yellow” hair!!! She thought it was so silly.

Now, time to apply the purple!

Then she got her hair blown dry and flat ironed. While the purple was still soaking in her hair, I had my hair washed and blown straight as well, so she and I would both have “flat” hair together. As soon as her hair was finished and I took her out of the salon chair, she hugged me tightly and thanked me for letting her have purple hair. Once we got home, Daddy wanted to take some pictures outside with his fancy camera.

Some people might judge me for letting her do this. Heck, a few years ago, I would’ve judged someone for coloring their young child’s hair. But, having seen Marlie increasingly struggle with our differences in appearances and knowing how much this small gesture means to her… I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Of course there are some lines I won’t cross, like chemically straightening her hair or coloring the entire thing, but when it comes to a purple streak… it’s just hair.

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Julie is a Christian, stay-at-home, biological and adoptive mother of three (one bio child, one domestic adoption, and one international adoption from Ethiopia). She lives in Los Angeles, CA with her husband of 14 years. She’s a former recreational therapist, avid reader, and blogger. And, she loves purple more than you.

February 1, 2011January 17, 2011

When Does It Become Reality?

When you write the first check.

When you notarize the first document.

When you see “You have been approved to adopt one child from the following convention country: China”

When you hear the phone ring.

When you see her face.

When you read “Your LOA has arrived” in the subject line of an email from your adoption agency.

When you say, “I have four children.”

When you paint a dresser.

When you glance in the back of your minivan, see three kids, and actually panic because you thought you forgot someone, only to realize that the fourth isn’t here yet.

When you sign a document written in Chinese that says her name and asks you “do you accept?”

Yes.

We.

Do.

When you see her face.

When you start making packing lists.

When you buy bedding with pink ladybugs and purple butterflies.

When you purchase her FIRST pair of shoes.

When your children draw six stick people (2 big, 4 little) in their pictures of their family.

When you start purchasing things for the trip.

When you try on that long forgotten, never thought you would use again, baby carrier.

When you see her face.

now, waiting for travel approval to bring home their little girl.

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Deb has been married to her husband, Steve, for 10 years. They have been blessed with four children, ages 8, 6, 4 and 1. The littlest is still waiting for them in Henan Province, China. Deb and Steve hope to be traveling to China in February 2011 to bring their youngest blessing home to her family. You can follow their journey to China, as well as their ups, downs, giggles, tears, and chaos of their family here.

January 25, 2011January 16, 2011

Collision of Two Cultures

One year ago, two worlds collided in Eastern China as a 13-year-old boy met his American parents for the first time. What was to follow would be a dance of sorts, some missed footing, some stepping on toes, loss of rhythm…and finally, a year later, a harmonious blend of steps we call life.

To say it’s been ‘a year’ is an understatement. Our son didn’t know a single word of English and had resolved that the rest of the world would learn Chinese in order to communicate with him. Unfortunately, his years in foster care had come with challenges and a high price, education being one, but far more important were the emotional and developmental gaps caused by neglect. He had no concept of family or permanency, or a desire to learn.

We, his parents, knew this transition wouldn’t be easy, but we really had no idea just how difficult it would be. It was just different than we had imagined. We long to be the hands and feet of the Lord as we answer His call to the ‘impossible’, yet we are surprised when the pain comes. We somehow think we are immune to the struggles as we carry our cross daily, but that is directly contradictory to His Word. He doesn’t promise comfort or ease; He promises faithfulness, hope and restoration!

I had never home schooled before, until last year. I had no idea where to begin, but for the advice of wonderful friends who have home schooled and/or adopted older children. I’m certain I learned as much as my son, including the fact I could actually enjoy teaching a child who speaks English and has half a desire to learn. The two of us were so out of sync. I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want to learn, and he couldn’t figure out why he needed to! Ultimately, the most important lesson was how to be a family. We often forewent reading or math to focus on our relationship.

He struggled for control and would do whatever he could to manipulate circumstances to get what he wanted. He also learned it’s rather difficult to remain self-absorbed with seven siblings. He tried to isolate himself, but mostly because that’s what he’d been taught, to stay out of the way. Being alone was his safe place. We struggled with the sadness of all the rotten things he’d been through and the overwhelming changes yet to come. We worked hard to maintain structure and routine because it seemed the most beneficial setting.

We were caught off guard by his season of grief. It just didn’t look the way we thought it would. He was not only overwhelmed by his new world; he was overcome by nameless emotions. Once we realized he was grieving, we were able to help him cope and extend the compassion he needed.

We often felt incompetent in our ability to parent. Our son wouldn’t tell us if he was sick, happy, sad, angry or tired. Mostly because he didn’t know! He was completely detached from his emotions. He certainly couldn’t name them, and he was impulsive at expressing them.

We learned that consistency is key. We found it necessary to ‘walk the walk.’ No wavering allowed. And, Mom and Dad are a force to be reckoned with.

We also saw grace in a new light. The need for undeserved favor has been more prevalent than ever in our home. Our oldest son even observed that abundant grace is a necessity from here on out.

And then there are all the tests and the doctors, not seeking ‘why’ so much as ‘where to go from here.’

We were told that non-English speaking kids will typically have conversational language at six months. Not so in our case. We thought we’d never learn to communicate. And, in this journey, I have learned that communication is key to relationship. And without a relationship, I simply had another teenager in my home who had strange food choices and sleep habits. I desperately wanted to relate to my son.

And, gradually, layer by layer the rotten past began to peel away and the witty personality began to surface. Gradually, he learned to love and to receive the love of his imperfect parents. Gradually, he began to act like a brother. Gradually, his confidence blossomed, and we discovered he’s pretty good at math and fits right in with his seventh grade peers. Gradually, he expressed a love for music which has landed him in the percussion section of the band. Gradually, he regained his interest in fitness, and though he may not understand all the rules, he’s willing to work hard to learn how to play basketball. Gradually, he has learned that his parents love him enough to put up a fight when the thing he really wants to do is not in his best interest. Gradually, he is realizing that his siblings are pretty awesome, contrary to his initial idea that he didn’t need any of them. Gradually, he is learning that his family trusts a heavenly Father who extends boundless grace, mercy and love to the unfathomable point of dying so we can live.

In a way it’s hard to believe a year has passed, but in some respects it seems like a lifetime. We have learned enough to last a lifetime…and we are looking forward to a lifetime of living out what we’re still learning and dancing to the rhythm of our new song.

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Connie and Clayton Johnson and their family live in Oklahoma. Coming to faith later in life (Clayton at age 40 and Connie at age 36), they surrendered to missions soon after accepting Christ but had no idea that would mean six trips to China…and back. They have eight children and are presently in the process of adopting their ninth. Connie hopes to encourage families who feel less than qualified to adopt and families who are burdened for older children and children with medical special needs outside their comfort zone. God does not expect us to come to Him perfectly equipped for His purposes, only perfectly willing. Visit their blog here.

January 20, 2011January 10, 2011

Plastic Surgery

The most emotionally painful loss I have faced has been the death of my grandmother. She was and is “who I want to be when I grow up.” That is the best way I can describe my admiration and love for her. She was strong, physically and emotionally. She believed in God and loved to serve Him. She was always busy, yet always had time for anyone in need.?? As a child I “knew” I was her very favorite grandchild. This of course was not true, but she had this special way of loving that made me feel totally special and adored. If I felt that treasured, I had to be her favorite, right? ??My brother and I spent some time with my grandparents each summer – without our parents. That created many good memories. They would take us for an overnight in their camper at a local lake. Those camping memories are certainly what sparked my desire to camp with my family. In fact, after her death, my dad shared a portion of his inheritance with our family. We used that money to buy our first camper. As an adult, I was lucky enough to live within a few hours of her. Since I was a stay-at-home mom, I was able to visit often. The times I had with her and my children were precious. My grandmother adored children, especially babies. She and my grandpa were both battling cancer when my daughter, Brenna, was born. So, it was extremely important to me to bring my baby to visit as soon as possible after her birth. I will never forget my dear Grandma sitting on the floor at the age of 81, in the midst of battling cancer, eagerly struggling with the buckles on my infant daughter’s car seat. I had brought the baby into the house first and then went back to the vehicle to unload my older three children. Waiting for me to unstrap the baby would have taken too long, so my determined Grandma got down on the floor to get to her newest great-granddaughter.?? As my grandma

January 13, 2011January 10, 2011

Pei’s Momma

Each week seems to bring about a new surprise in the grief and attachment area. Pei seems to be grieving a bit this past week. No trigger, just a bit sad and far away.

It is in the midst of our after-dinner routine that Pei decides to have a meltdown. I really do not think much about it. She is two and occasionally will cry and call my name . . . repeatedly. So, I lean down and ask her what is wrong. And, that is when it happened. She pulled away from me while she was still calling momma.

OUCH!

At that point I realized it was her foster mom that she was calling for not me.

I would be lying if I said that it did not hurt a little bit, but it was like a lightbulb went on in my head. She has done so well with us that I really thought that she was moving past the grief.

But I was wrong.

Since we have been home from China, we have not shown her any photos of her foster family. I thought that we should wait a bit and let her settle in a bit more. So, after this, I decided it was time. I cannot even begin to imagine what is going on in her little mind and heart. The only momma that she has ever know and loved was there one day and gone the next.

So, the next day, I pull up a photo of Pei and her foster mom. I think I held my breath until I saw her reaction. She looked at it and smiled. So, I am thinking, “Okay, you can breath now!” I pointed at Pei and said “Who is that?” and she said “Pei Pei.” Next , I pointed to the foster momma and said “Who is that?” and she answered “Momma”.

[Insert a sigh ]

I have to say it felt like someone had kicked the air out of me. But, worse than that, my heart just broke for her.

So, then I pointed to my chest and said “Who am I?” At that very moment, that little girl came over to me and wrapped her arms around my legs and sweetly said “My Momma.”

[insert a really happy sigh]

So, there you have it. My beautiful daughter has three mommas.

She has her birth mother who held and loved her for 4 days before she picked a place to leave her where she knew she would be found.

Next, she has her foster mom in China who was not afraid to love Pei, knowing that she too would have to give her away. But, despite that, she loved and cared for her like her mother.

And last, she has me, her final and forever momma. I am the one who gets to reap the benefits and sacrifices of the first two mommas. I get the greatest gift of all – Pei as my forever daughter.

So, one day, when she asks about her life story, I will tell her that she was so special that God gave her three mommas to love her.

As we sat down for Thanksgiving dinner this year, I could not help but think back to last year. When we awoke on Thanksgiving day 2009, we received an email that we had received our preapproval for Pei. Along with that PA, we received some updated photos. I honestly was scared to death! It was so real at that point; we truly had found our little girl.

Now, that same little girl is sitting right beside me. I cannot help but watch her and think how last year, I could only dream about her. Now, she is sitting as close as she can possibly get to me, meowing like a baby kitty. I cannot help but feel so thankful that my baby girl is finally home.

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In 2008, we walked into an orphanage in Russia, and our lives were forever changed. The blessing that adoption has brought to our lives is amazing. As Ava spent her first birthday in a Russian hospital, a beautiful baby girl was born in China and destined to be our daughter. In August 2010, we became a family of six!

January 12, 2011January 10, 2011

Browsing Blogs

I was browsing blogs Sunday night and came across a post from a mom who is waiting to bring home her child. She talked about a recent training and how there had been so much “scare” info – things that they might well expect for their adopted child…..

struggles with attachment
struggles with school
struggles with siblings
struggles with self-image
struggles with health issues
and on and on.

I went right on down the list and was able to check off every single one.

Before we adopted – even while we were in process and I was reading everything I could find – I still had the notion that the only really “scary” issue that might come out of our adoption would be a RAD diagnosis. I read stories of families struggling with RAD and believed that it would be the rarity and that I didn’t need to educate myself too much because chances are we wouldn’t need it. It would only be those really traumatized kids who would be at risk – abused, witnessing war, living alone on the streets, etc. Our kids – coming from African orphanages (where I let myself believe that kids were cuddled and doted on and hugged and rocked and carried) would be at low risk.

Wrong. First, they aren’t low risk – trauma is trauma, and my kids have experienced plenty. Second, RAD isn’t all there is. There is definitely the rest of the list to consider. And, RAD isn’t just RAD – it’s on an attachment continuum. No adopted child comes home “attached” to his new parents, and there is no way to anticipate how far or how fast they might move forward on that continuum.

And this is what it looks like…

My daughter – who probably had one of the easiest “adjustments” of the children I know still melts down about once every six weeks – this weekend, dissolving into a rage that lasted an hour. This is the kind of rage that she really can’t even seem to see or hear through. She seems to lose all of her faculties and can only rage until she’s spent.

My son still can’t hug me without being reminded to “put your arms around me and squeeze” except on the rare occasion when he is copying a sibling or performing. I do get genuine hugs here and there – about one every six weeks. Last night, I did the “put your arms around me and squeeze” routine while he held himself stiff as a board and then he trotted over and gave dad a real hug.

My daughter will always struggle with learning. It will never come easy to her, and she’ll arrive at each stage three to four years later than a typical child. She is about to turn nine and is just starting to read four-letter-words. She has just started to count by 5’s (which we have been working on for about 18 months now).

My son has impulse control issues that spike with any change in environment, with any anticipaton of change in environment, with any extra environmental stimuli. He loses the ability to thoughtfully maintain control of his mouth and body. And, it is work to get that control back.

My daughter still sneaks food on occasion (but not any longer in the middle of the night, as far as we can tell).

My son considers himself on equal footing with me and resents being parented.

My daughter has had three years of speech therapy and still cannot form full sentences or articulate clearly.

My son couldn’t name one child that he’d spent over two years living in an orphanage with. No special friend. No sweet baby. Not one name. It still takes him a couple of months before he can name kids in his class.

And on and on.

And, it’s all completely explainable and understandable. And, it still gets under my skin all the time. And, I still have to self-talk every day. And, I still fail all of the time. And, I still fall into the trap of thinking that these are behaviors that they are “choosing.”

I sometimes forget in the moment (or long stretches of moments) that their neurological development was hindered and interrupted and that the ramifications of that are life-long. We can parent therapeutically; we can do our best with nutritional helps; we can read; we can educate others; we can anticipate bumps and prepare ourselves; and, we can see improvement. We can even forget for a few days here and there that there are any struggles. But, the underlying issues are there.

When we reached Avi’s one-year Happy Home Day, I cried. A month later, I had my first prescription for anti-depressants. I had thought we just needed to give ourselves a year for things to “settle.” While I was crying, Greg said “we need four years – he needs as long with us as he had before us.” And, it’s true. Each year has brought significant progress in his comfortability with family life. Our relationship and our days are far easier than they were at that one year mark. We have more strategies in place. We generally know when things are “off” and what we can do to help get back on track. But, it is still hard work – subtle work but constant. I still do it wrong so much of the time. And, I now know that four years isn’t the mark. Getting him into an adulthood where he can experience healthy relationships is the goal. And, I know it’s a long road to get there.

I love adoption. I love seeing waiting children join families. It’s really my passion. But, I know that it can be a hard, hard road. And, I know that it takes years of commitment and work. I know that it changes the shape of a family. It changes the shape of a mom (and I’m not just talking about my twelve Avi pounds which are finally gone!).

But, I also know that the work and committment aren’t wasted. Avi may always struggle with relationships. He may always be uneasy if he isn’t controlling every situation. He may never want to hug his mom. But, it is so clear to us that Avi would not have entered adulthood with anything even close to the ability to form relationships without being in a family.

And, everyday, I get to see the areas where we have moved forward, where we have grown, where we are successful.

It’s not wasted work. It’s slow progress. It’s uphill. It’s wearying. It’s life-changing. It’s soul-challenging. But not, not, not wasted.

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Jennifer Isaac lives in Colorado with her husband and four children, two of whom were adopted from African countries, both with medical needs. She is passionate about medical needs adoption and runs From HIV to Home, a nonprofit that aims to provide education and support to families adopting children with HIV. She blogs here.