Today Little Man has been home for one whole month! I can't believe how fast the time flew by! In some ways, I feel like we just got back, but in other ways, I feel like he has been here for years.
Little Man is losing his "orphanage" look. He looks much more relaxed around us and our routines, and he seems to be comprehending that Daddy will come home each night, and there will always be food whenever he wants it. A routine is definitely important to him, as I'm sure there were not many days in the orphanage that did not have a very strict schedule. We can tell he is definitely on "high alert" if we are in a "new" place with "new" people. He is starting to get more relaxed at church, which is great, because we spend a good bit of time there each week. When I mention the word "church," he immediately starts yelling his friends' names. "E!" "J!" It is very funny and also exciting to see that he is relating faces and names, and he associates both with being happy.
He is learning a lot of new words. He will repeat anything we ask him to, but he is starting to say English words without being prompted. A few things off the top of my head that he says on his own are, "hello", "bye-bye", "mommy", "daddy", "BabyGirl", " 'caroni" (macaroni), "yummy", "chicken", "yucky", "diaper", "night-night", "belly", "nose", and a few others I'm sure I'm forgetting. He knows all the names of our immediate family (aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc.), and a few of our close friends that he has started to see regularly.
He LOVES to give and receive affection, which we learned in our training could be very difficult for some newly adopted children. He wants to be held, cuddled, tickled and kissed all the time. In fact, some of our sweetest moments so far have been at church. During the adoption process, I would sit in our usual pew at church and long for the Sunday that he would be in our arms to sing with us. I can remember, on several occasions, being moved almost to tears at the realization that he was on the other side of the world, but several times God whispered that I would hold him in that very spot as we all worshipped together. So now, we stand in our usual spot and hear the same songs that spoke of God's faithfulness, songs that held us together as we clung to His promise that He would set the lonely in families. We stand on the same spot of carpet, by the same chairs, singing the same songs, but now, I hold in my arms God's faithfulness. I get to literally cradle His promise to us. It is overwhelming to stand there, with Little Man in my arms, singing of His faithfulness, while Little Man puts his tiny hands on my face and tries to sneak in kisses.
The Lord has been so faithful to fulfill His promises to us, we can't help but rejoice at His love.
As we get to know Little Man better (which has been a fun journey- it is very different from a newborn who doesn't already have years of experiences and preferences and likes and dislikes), we see more and more of his physical conditions. We are seeing challenges just related to being in the orphanage for so long that make every day life different for us. For example, he does not know how to chew. We have managed to teach him how to move his jaw, but it is difficult to explain to a 3 year old with minimal language understanding how to use your teeth to grind food. So choking is something we have to watch for very carefully. He wants to eat solid foods like his sister, so we allow it, but it is something we have to be very careful about since he swallows everything whole. (Of course, we do give him as much pureed food as he will take, but mostly he wants solids- especially macaroni!)
We have been very open with explaining to people that Little Man was born with conditions called spina bifida and hydrocephaly. If you don't know what that is, or to help the next few paragraphs make sense, here are two quick explanations:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ii_v3t9hpU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouMi5z1vwbE
Today has been a little more difficult for me than any of the other days so far, I think because tomorrow will be his first specialist doctor's appointment. Up until now, we haven't had to accept what a specialist has to say about his potential to walk, but tomorrow, I know that is coming. Honestly, I don't know if I am ready to hear the truth. I was venting to a friend last night and said that most pregnant mothers, if told something would be "wrong" with their babies would spend the next months praying and anxious to prove the doctors wrong at the babies' births. For me, the adoption was the same. I have spent so much time begging God to heal Little Man's legs, and I had no reason to believe He wouldn't. Don't get me wrong, of course we looked at his file intently and decided over a year ago, that regardless of whether God would heal him or not, he was absolutely our son and we would love him no matter what his level of functioning would be. As I have prayed over the past year, I knew that God may choose to not heal him, and I have accepted that.
BUT all that being said, when we finally got to spend hours, days, and weeks with our child, the reality of his disabilities became much more evident and real. (If that makes any sense at all.) It is becoming easier to see, to some extent, what is related to delay from the orphanage and what is a physical issue.
From what we can tell, he has no feeling below his knees. He does have a small reflex in each knee, but neither foot. His little knees and ankles are contracted from years of not being used and worked with. His knees do have some movement, they just don't straighten completely. His feet have almost no movement though. All of that means that he has no control of his muscles below his knees, so he can't move his lower legs or feet on his own, but even when I move his knees or ankles, they do not have the full range of motion that an average, healthy person has.
None of those things stop him from wanting to try everything his sister does, but it does sting my mama's heart to know that, currently, this is his reality.
We were at a church event this weekend that had bouncy houses. He pointed to them after watching Baby Girl jump for some time. I know he wanted to get in, but at that point, there were too many kids, most much older than him, and he would have been hurt. I walked away with him to find something else to do, secretly wondering if he would ever jump in one.
~
I know that all of this may sound ridiculous to many people. I'm sure many are thinking, "Well, you signed up for this!" "There is no reason this should be difficult because you walked into this journey with your eyes wide open."
And all of that is true.
We did "sign up for this", in the sense that we chose Little Man, specifically. We didn't just accept someone's recommendation of him. We specifically sought him out.
We did walk into this with our eyes wide open. We had access to every bit of his medical information before signing that we wanted to pursue him.
But none of that excludes us from the grieving process as we begin a new medical journey with him. Now, he is MY son. My little boy. And I never want to see him suffer. I don't want him to have to undergo the tests and scans that are scheduled for this week. I don't want him to have the future surgeries we know will happen. I don't want him to have to pull himself across the floor with his arms. I want him to walk. I want him to run and play. I want him to jump in every bouncy house he sees.
It is an odd place to be, this balance between falling deeply in love with your child, and still grieving the medical difficulties you see for the future. I certainly didn't expect these emotions. I also thought I had come to terms with all of the emotions related to having a son that will have physical challenges. But now that he is home, it is real. And the grief is a part of that.
Please don't misunderstand. I wouldn't do anything differently. Little Man has been our son since we first saw his picture, and in our hearts, even longer. We love him as much as we love our biological Baby Girl, just as if he had been born to us. But it is difficult to not be a little sad wondering what his future will look like in terms of mobility.
~
Thankfully, I know that the same Sovereign God who provided a way for Little Man to come home, is the same One who sees his every need. We serve a mighty God, who is ALWAYS victorious. He is victorious in life, and victorious in death. So we know that He alone has the victory in everything between.
I have hope in the risen Savior. And I know that this Savior takes great delight in telling the lame to take up his mat and walk.
I also know that this Savior sits on His holy throne, regardless of whether He chooses to heal or not.
Therefore, I know the victory is His.
The victory will be His in a wheelchair. Or the victory will be His in a bouncy house.
~
So as we begin the medical phase of this journey as a family, I ask that you continue to keep us in your prayers. I ask that you pray for Little Man's heart to be calm and trusting of us (which is a lot to ask so soon after coming home) as he is put to sleep for various tests. I ask that you pray for our hearts to cling to the hope that is in Christ Jesus alone, not in a doctor's opinion. I ask that if this week we weep because science and biology say the odds are against us, you remind us that the victory is already won.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Two weeks home
Well, I had every intention of blogging each day that we were in country, and updating frequently after we arrived home. Obviously, that didn't happen.
So I guess I should start with where I left off. Our first two days in country were awesome! We landed on a Saturday and spent some time exploring with a friend of ours, and had every intention of meeting up with them again Sunday morning, but we woke up and realized it was already 1:00 in the afternoon. Jet lag, y'all. It is intense.
Several friends donated money to purchase donations for the orphanage, so we stocked up at the local store, with the help of our friends. I could feel the judgmental glances as we checked out huge cart-fulls of toys, while only having one child with us. I'm sure we fit the American stereotype in that moment. ;)
Sunday night was weird. I set up Little Man's playpen and organized all of the toys for the orphanage. It was entirely bizarre to think he would be with us again in just a few hours. It was strange to think our lives were about to completely change...
Since I would probably be the most interested in what a Gotcha Day looks like, I'll try to spell out most of the details here. ;)
Monday morning, the driver and our translator met us at 7 am, helped us load all the toys into the van, waited patiently when we remembered we had left the driver's payment in the room, and then we were off! Since the jet lag was still wrecking havoc on our ability to stay awake, the drive to the orphanage is still kind of a blur. Baby Girl slept the entire drive (maybe and hour and a half), while the hubs and I took dozens of pictures of the gorgeous sunflower fields along the way. I had a few moments of fear when I would look out the window and realize we were on the edge of a mountain, with only a couple feet between us and tumbling off the side. Seriously, it was a guardrail, then a straight drop off. Our driver was nice, but not as talkative as the driver from our first trip, and he also liked to play a rousing game of "chicken" with oncoming 18-wheelers as he passed cars on two-lane streets.
I tried to focus on the sunflowers.
We started to see signs for Little Man's town and knew we were getting closer. The knots in our stomachs at this point were unreal. The driver pulled up to one building and kept looking from his paper with the address back to the building, while the hubs and I kept shaking our heads, "Nope. Nope. This isn't it." After a few turns, we recognized the orphanage gates immediately. For the first time ever, we saw other children. There were maybe 10-20 kids playing outside on the swings and slides, nannies watching them and us simultaneously. Little Man's nanny was standing outside and shook our hands. I could tell something was wrong, and I wondered if her heart was breaking a little at the thought of letting Little Man leave with us. We saw on the first trip that they clearly have a very strong bond.
Children ran up to us and tugged on our clothes. We tried to touch their hands and smile at them as much as possible. The language barrier was immensely frustrating at this point. I knew Little Man was getting a family in just a few minutes, but I was aching to spare a few minutes, sit on the front steps and hug and whisper loving words to the orphans who would be left behind. Possibly forever.
We were ushered into the director's office, where we met her several months ago. We told her (through the translator) about the donation of toys in the van. We had brought along a gift for her and Little Man's special nanny also. They asked for the clothes to dress Little Man in, since the clothes belonging to the orphanage must stay there. The hubby was asked to go help unload the toys, but they sent him back into the little room with us when they realized Little Man was almost ready. The director had a few pictures of him from the past. What a precious, priceless gift for a mama who has no other baby pictures of her only son. One picture of him as a baby and his nanny, and a couple from his birthday last year. (I was thrilled to know that his life was celebrated in our absence! We asked our agency for Little Man's file on his birthday last year- of course, we didn't know it was his birthday at the time. I don't have words to describe how touching it is to have a picture of what your little boy was doing at the exact time you found him. Indescribable.)
We heard him crying in the hallway and then finally got a glimpse of him coming into the room with his nanny. We could tell he was very anxious, but recognized us and called us by name. We handed him small toys in hopes of calming his fears, but when his nanny tried to hand him to me, the screams broke out. I think he knew that everything was about to change, although I'm not sure he knew exactly what was happening. His nanny tried to help him with toys and our picture book, but when he kept begging for her, she excused herself from the room. Of course, that made him more hysterical, so the director motioned for me to let her hold him. She carried Little Man into the hall to find his beloved nanny. When they all walked back in, she was wiping her own tears too.
Since the director needed to have some paperwork done on the donations, we all walked out to the front yard where some of the other children were playing, hoping that it would help Little Man relax. He didn't. He cried the entire time. So did his nanny, who has been his "mama" since his first day at the orphanage. I remembered I had brought pictures of the two of them together for her, so I dug them out of the backpack and handed them to her. She was very obviously touched. I instructed the translator to tell her that we will always tell Little Man of her love and kindness, and that we will keep the same pictures of her for him to remember.
There were so many little children toddling around the playground, each one beautiful. One little boy (who I recognized- I can't figure out where I have seen his picture though), walked right up to us, reached his arms up and called, "Mama! Daddy!"
I don't think there is any way to describe the intensity of that moment.
How do you get in the car, drive away from these faces you have cupped and memorized, and know that probably, no Mama and Daddy will ever come for them?
...
Before we knew it, it was time to leave. We were there maybe 20-30 minutes total. Little Man went unwillingly into his car seat next to his daddy, while Baby Girl asked why he was crying so much. I think he was told that his nanny was coming too, and he was quickly realizing that wasn't happening. As the last one in the car, I shook the director's hand, and then the nanny stuck hers out to shake too. I did quickly, then opened my arms to hug her. She squeezed me tightly and I could feel her body shaking from the sobs.
Adoption ALWAYS comes from a place of loss. Children don't live in orphanages because their lives prior have been unicorns and rainbows. In adoption training, we are continuously reminded to remember that as beautiful as it is to watch a new family be born, we must remember that the other side of that coin is always loss. Little Man has now experienced two losses: the circumstances that brought him to the orphanage in the first place, and leaving his nanny. We weren't there the first time, but being present as he grieved this woman he has called "mama", is a permanent reminder of the pain that is the beginning of the glorious unfolding in adoption.
He cried for a while in the car, before eventually realizing that his Daddy's goofy attempts to make him smile weren't likely to end soon. ;)
We drove back to the city, stopped to have his physical (nothing says "welcome to the family" like immediately having blood work drawn), and went back to the hotel. There was a little bit of time where the Hubs and I exchanged glances of, "Ok, now what?" But the kids started playing and giggling, and we somehow slowly, and yet immediately, became a family of four.
...
Maybe one of these days, I'll be able to write out the rest of our experiences in Little Man's first country. I will say that it was probably one of the best weeks of our lives, other than when Little Man decided to stop eating- that was not fun. We loved being there. The people were so kind and the country is beautiful. And can I mention what it's like to dry your hair and not have humidity?!?! ;) I'm sure the Hubs has already researched how to get their version of orange Fanta delivered to our house. Yes, it was that much better than what we have here.
Now we move on to settling in and starting our new life. Little Man is adjusting beautifully, all things considered. We were prepared from all of our training to experience a LOT of attachment issues and such, but Little Man is doing remarkably well. He is still timid around new people (which is actually a very healthy attachment quality), and gets overwhelmed with lots of noise, so we are learning how to best avoid those situations and comfort him when we cannot. He does like to give high-fives, so if you see us out and about, feel free to ask for one, but please try to refrain from hugging or rubbing his back. It is still too much for him to handle at this point. He will probably yell and swat at you. ;)
We have been to our pediatrician (who is AWESOME), and already have appointments to see some specialists about his spina bifida. We are hoping to fill in some of the gaps in his medical information in the coming weeks. We have to start at the beginning, in many ways, to learn exactly what his spine looks like and what further treatment is necessary. I have a feeling surgery is in our near future to correct some issues I see, but we know the medical teams will have more answers for us.
We appreciate your continued prayers as we learn how to parent TWO wonderful children, and also for healing in Little Man's little body. We don't know what the specialists will say, but we are praying that the LORD will allow him to walk one day.
So I guess I should start with where I left off. Our first two days in country were awesome! We landed on a Saturday and spent some time exploring with a friend of ours, and had every intention of meeting up with them again Sunday morning, but we woke up and realized it was already 1:00 in the afternoon. Jet lag, y'all. It is intense.
Several friends donated money to purchase donations for the orphanage, so we stocked up at the local store, with the help of our friends. I could feel the judgmental glances as we checked out huge cart-fulls of toys, while only having one child with us. I'm sure we fit the American stereotype in that moment. ;)
Sunday night was weird. I set up Little Man's playpen and organized all of the toys for the orphanage. It was entirely bizarre to think he would be with us again in just a few hours. It was strange to think our lives were about to completely change...
Since I would probably be the most interested in what a Gotcha Day looks like, I'll try to spell out most of the details here. ;)
Monday morning, the driver and our translator met us at 7 am, helped us load all the toys into the van, waited patiently when we remembered we had left the driver's payment in the room, and then we were off! Since the jet lag was still wrecking havoc on our ability to stay awake, the drive to the orphanage is still kind of a blur. Baby Girl slept the entire drive (maybe and hour and a half), while the hubs and I took dozens of pictures of the gorgeous sunflower fields along the way. I had a few moments of fear when I would look out the window and realize we were on the edge of a mountain, with only a couple feet between us and tumbling off the side. Seriously, it was a guardrail, then a straight drop off. Our driver was nice, but not as talkative as the driver from our first trip, and he also liked to play a rousing game of "chicken" with oncoming 18-wheelers as he passed cars on two-lane streets.
I tried to focus on the sunflowers.
We started to see signs for Little Man's town and knew we were getting closer. The knots in our stomachs at this point were unreal. The driver pulled up to one building and kept looking from his paper with the address back to the building, while the hubs and I kept shaking our heads, "Nope. Nope. This isn't it." After a few turns, we recognized the orphanage gates immediately. For the first time ever, we saw other children. There were maybe 10-20 kids playing outside on the swings and slides, nannies watching them and us simultaneously. Little Man's nanny was standing outside and shook our hands. I could tell something was wrong, and I wondered if her heart was breaking a little at the thought of letting Little Man leave with us. We saw on the first trip that they clearly have a very strong bond.
Children ran up to us and tugged on our clothes. We tried to touch their hands and smile at them as much as possible. The language barrier was immensely frustrating at this point. I knew Little Man was getting a family in just a few minutes, but I was aching to spare a few minutes, sit on the front steps and hug and whisper loving words to the orphans who would be left behind. Possibly forever.
We were ushered into the director's office, where we met her several months ago. We told her (through the translator) about the donation of toys in the van. We had brought along a gift for her and Little Man's special nanny also. They asked for the clothes to dress Little Man in, since the clothes belonging to the orphanage must stay there. The hubby was asked to go help unload the toys, but they sent him back into the little room with us when they realized Little Man was almost ready. The director had a few pictures of him from the past. What a precious, priceless gift for a mama who has no other baby pictures of her only son. One picture of him as a baby and his nanny, and a couple from his birthday last year. (I was thrilled to know that his life was celebrated in our absence! We asked our agency for Little Man's file on his birthday last year- of course, we didn't know it was his birthday at the time. I don't have words to describe how touching it is to have a picture of what your little boy was doing at the exact time you found him. Indescribable.)
We heard him crying in the hallway and then finally got a glimpse of him coming into the room with his nanny. We could tell he was very anxious, but recognized us and called us by name. We handed him small toys in hopes of calming his fears, but when his nanny tried to hand him to me, the screams broke out. I think he knew that everything was about to change, although I'm not sure he knew exactly what was happening. His nanny tried to help him with toys and our picture book, but when he kept begging for her, she excused herself from the room. Of course, that made him more hysterical, so the director motioned for me to let her hold him. She carried Little Man into the hall to find his beloved nanny. When they all walked back in, she was wiping her own tears too.
Since the director needed to have some paperwork done on the donations, we all walked out to the front yard where some of the other children were playing, hoping that it would help Little Man relax. He didn't. He cried the entire time. So did his nanny, who has been his "mama" since his first day at the orphanage. I remembered I had brought pictures of the two of them together for her, so I dug them out of the backpack and handed them to her. She was very obviously touched. I instructed the translator to tell her that we will always tell Little Man of her love and kindness, and that we will keep the same pictures of her for him to remember.
There were so many little children toddling around the playground, each one beautiful. One little boy (who I recognized- I can't figure out where I have seen his picture though), walked right up to us, reached his arms up and called, "Mama! Daddy!"
I don't think there is any way to describe the intensity of that moment.
How do you get in the car, drive away from these faces you have cupped and memorized, and know that probably, no Mama and Daddy will ever come for them?
...
Before we knew it, it was time to leave. We were there maybe 20-30 minutes total. Little Man went unwillingly into his car seat next to his daddy, while Baby Girl asked why he was crying so much. I think he was told that his nanny was coming too, and he was quickly realizing that wasn't happening. As the last one in the car, I shook the director's hand, and then the nanny stuck hers out to shake too. I did quickly, then opened my arms to hug her. She squeezed me tightly and I could feel her body shaking from the sobs.
Adoption ALWAYS comes from a place of loss. Children don't live in orphanages because their lives prior have been unicorns and rainbows. In adoption training, we are continuously reminded to remember that as beautiful as it is to watch a new family be born, we must remember that the other side of that coin is always loss. Little Man has now experienced two losses: the circumstances that brought him to the orphanage in the first place, and leaving his nanny. We weren't there the first time, but being present as he grieved this woman he has called "mama", is a permanent reminder of the pain that is the beginning of the glorious unfolding in adoption.
He cried for a while in the car, before eventually realizing that his Daddy's goofy attempts to make him smile weren't likely to end soon. ;)
We drove back to the city, stopped to have his physical (nothing says "welcome to the family" like immediately having blood work drawn), and went back to the hotel. There was a little bit of time where the Hubs and I exchanged glances of, "Ok, now what?" But the kids started playing and giggling, and we somehow slowly, and yet immediately, became a family of four.
...
Maybe one of these days, I'll be able to write out the rest of our experiences in Little Man's first country. I will say that it was probably one of the best weeks of our lives, other than when Little Man decided to stop eating- that was not fun. We loved being there. The people were so kind and the country is beautiful. And can I mention what it's like to dry your hair and not have humidity?!?! ;) I'm sure the Hubs has already researched how to get their version of orange Fanta delivered to our house. Yes, it was that much better than what we have here.
Now we move on to settling in and starting our new life. Little Man is adjusting beautifully, all things considered. We were prepared from all of our training to experience a LOT of attachment issues and such, but Little Man is doing remarkably well. He is still timid around new people (which is actually a very healthy attachment quality), and gets overwhelmed with lots of noise, so we are learning how to best avoid those situations and comfort him when we cannot. He does like to give high-fives, so if you see us out and about, feel free to ask for one, but please try to refrain from hugging or rubbing his back. It is still too much for him to handle at this point. He will probably yell and swat at you. ;)
We have been to our pediatrician (who is AWESOME), and already have appointments to see some specialists about his spina bifida. We are hoping to fill in some of the gaps in his medical information in the coming weeks. We have to start at the beginning, in many ways, to learn exactly what his spine looks like and what further treatment is necessary. I have a feeling surgery is in our near future to correct some issues I see, but we know the medical teams will have more answers for us.
We appreciate your continued prayers as we learn how to parent TWO wonderful children, and also for healing in Little Man's little body. We don't know what the specialists will say, but we are praying that the LORD will allow him to walk one day.
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