Fault Lines (August No Hands But Ours Post)

It takes an earthquake to remind us that we walk on the crust 
of an unfinished earth. ~ Charles Kuralt
At some point in my heart, you became just our little girl. You moved from orphan with a file, to a longed for daughter, to newly adopted, to just a loved girl with an incredible, unfinished redemption story.

But there was a time….
when your world looked monumentally different
when your infant eyes peered into the face of another mother
when your world cracked open, a giant fault line forming between what should have been and what was to be
when you were in the gut-wrenching epicenter of loss, the in-between: no mother, no home, no orphanage, no records, no plan
when you became an orphan in a building filled with orphans
when all you understood of love was a nanny’s care
when meals were tasks on a busy nanny’s list

Then, mercifully, you were somewhere in-between again. On the other side of the world, our family saw your face and recognized you as our own. The label orphan was no longer yours to carry. You didn’t feel it, but your world was trembling again.
Then, there was a time…
when you went on living unaware in Chengdu, China, no idea that a room was being painted pink, papers with your name being pushed, and your photo framed
when you couldn’t fathom the magnitude of love reaching for you from across oceans

Next, in one swift moment, your world cracked open again as your nanny carried you in her arms one last time, making her way to a conference room. A door opened, and your world collided with ours. All of us trembled, knowing life as we knew it was behind us. The earth didn’t shatter, just pieces of our hearts. You sobbed until you could only sleep, somehow knowing that another fault line had formed, a traumatic end and a scary, but hopeful, beginning.     


Then, newly adopted, there was time….
when a hotel room became common ground for tentative smiles and guarded trust
when you boarded a plane bound for the world’s other side, clinging to two almost strangers, toward all things new
when teary eyed strangers at an airport cheered because you’d finally arrived
when your little feet padded through your new home, investigating, but overwhelmed by the stimulation, something missing in institutional life
when you first sat at a family table, binge eating in case the food ran out, an orphan at heart still
when you weren’t sure about sleeping alone without the familiar rumblings of a roomful of other children, the only lullaby you’d ever known
when cleft clinic doctors evaluated your palate and prescribed dental surgery and years of speech therapy
when your pediatrician caught you up on shots and treated orphanage parasites
when you’d plop indiscriminately into the lap of anyone who’d give attention, hungry to fill up your far too empty love tank
when we wondered if you’d ever find your voice, or attach to us as mommy and daddy
 

Continue reading over at No Hands But Ours. 

6 Months

This little beauty was placed in our arms six months ago.
We changed her world, and she changed ours.
As Sharon says, she has known "forever" for six months.

These passing months have brought a whole lot of questions, a whole lot of praying, after the kids are snoozing late night talks, speech therapy, a bunch of craziness, heaps of beauty, never ending messiness and a heavy dose of sweetness. 

So who is this tiny life-changer? 

She is...

13 days from being two
tough in a way that can't be pinpointed
deeply compassionate
both serious and giggly
fearless
a crazy bath splasher
independent
a hugger of anyone with open arms
a kiss giver
mild
a booty shaker and lover of tunes

She only says a handful words, but has still blessed us with her love.  She is gentle and empathetic.  Yet, at the same time, she is strong, independent and fearless.  She loves to hold a sippy cup and an armload of stuffed pals.  She appreciates her food, often eating for 10-20 minutes longer than the rest of us.  What Sophia does, she does.   She is one of us, and a natural teammate!

They say that after an adoption, it takes six months to feel "normal".
I say we'll never be normal again.  Normal isn't the path we are walking.

(Today she went to an audiologist for further testing after failing her post-op hearing tests.  We are happy to report that she PASSED!!)

"Is Adoption Great?"

Over coffee a few weeks back, a friend asked a question close to my heart.  With teary eyes, she asked  "Is adoption great?"  With teary eyes, I responded "yes".  I wanted to jump onto the table and shout my answer for all to hear.  Instead, I kept myself together (and seated), and tried to explain that adoption is indeed "great".  I remember hearing myself talk about joy, pain and blessings. For many days after, I've questioned whether or not I captured it. 

"Is adoption great?" 

It is great.  It is life altering, and it is hard.  It is...

Paperwork, red tape, sacrifice and paperwork.

Release of control, expectations, and plans.

Waiting and waiting on the other side of a closed door.  You can knock and you can bang, but it doesn't open until it is opened.

Hearts that don't feel strong enough to wait another single moment.  

Trusting.  Weakness replaced by strength.  Faith found to be much stronger than expected.
A journey more about deepening your relationship with the Father of the fatherless.  Realizing that He is much greater and much bigger than assumed. 

Steps out of your comfort zone. Stretching you farther than ever imagined.

Deeply painful and deeply beautiful moments in time.  

Little arms clutching.  Sad,frightened eyes and pounding hearts.   

Strangers in love.

Becoming mommy and daddy (again) in a conference room on the other side of the world.

Shedding tears too many to count. 

Telling governments that we are hers and she is ours.

Nourishing a little body and little soul.

Firsts, many firsts.

Learning how to share this gift we call motherhood.

Bonding.  Slowly. Cautiously. Boldly. Quickly.

Driving forward, away from the past and toward the future.  Clutching for ways to write a new story that doesn't erase the stories before.

Family.

Home.  Not a country, not even a place.
 
Indeed, it is "great". 

Special Needs

It took us almost three years to decide to go special needs with our China adoption.  We were afraid and desperately seeking easy and normal.  Wasn't it enough that we wanted to adopt?  God had different plans. A bigger step of faith was required. 

Looking back, we know now that every step was designed perfectly for us to end up with Claire.  BUT, at the same time, how feeble was our faith?  Is there really a child in this world that does not have a "special need"? 

When we received Claire's referral, we were told that she had a cleft palate.  A few months later, we were told that her palate had been repaired in November of 2009.  Her palate is part of her story.   Her medical "special need" was very minor.

Yesterday, we spent the morning at a cranio-facial evaluation for a sweet girl was has become our daughter.  She saw a plastic surgeon, audiologist, social worker, speech pathologist and dentists.  She was poked, prodded, measured and tested. 

What was her "special need" through all this?  She needed parents to love on her, comfort her, and reassure her.  She truly was a little trooper throughout the four hours of waiting rooms and endless procession of professionals.  She did cry during procedures, and had a look of fear on her little face.  The dental evaluation and cleaning were not fun...

 But after each procedure, we scooped her up in our arms and held her tight.  We whispered in her ear.  We wiped her tears.  We pulled snacks out of our carefully prepared bag of books, toys, sippy cups and food.   We made silly faces and kissed her cheeks.  And so she calmed, each and every time.  We were her parents, and she was our daughter.  She just needed the reminder. 

 Her big sister was there for moral support and entertainment as well.

 I couldn't help but think back.  Wondering what her surgery experience was like in November 2009 with no loving parents to calm her.  There was no mommy holding her hand, or daddy asking protective questions.    Doesn't every child have THAT special need?  

 Her palate is part of her story.  The beautiful thing?  The palate repair done in China "looks good".  There are no holes or openings.  We'll go back in a year, hopefully to hear those same words. 

The tests did reveal that she is not hearing well and that she'll need to start weekly speech therapy.  Our next step is a visit to an ENT.  She will most likely have ear tubes inserted.  On that same day, she'll have teeth removed. 

Because of her palate, she'll have more tests run and some minor surgery.   She'll need extra hugs, kisses and will probably need a few tears wiped away.  She'll need popsicles and TLC after it is over.  This time we'll be there to meet that very "special need".  

One Month

Dear Claire,
       Today you have been with us for one month.  We've come so far in these 31 days.  The day you were handed to us in a conference room in Chengdu, China will forever be etched in our family story.  You were so frightened, and we were too.  You whimpered and feel asleep in our arms.  We were terrified, and in love.   We didn't yet know you, but we knew we would fight to protect you. 
      You had never touched carpet, ridden in a car, been in a hotel, or eaten pizza.  You had seen the inside of your orphanage, but not the world beyond the gates.  These first weeks of discovery have been precious ones.  Every day you bloom just a bit more.  At end of each day, we are more connected, more deeply bonded than the last. 
     You are our daughter.  You now share our last name, a room under our roof, a place at our table, and a chunk of our hearts.  You are a fighter and a survivor.  Despite having your world turned inside out (and not being in perfect health), you are thriving.  Each day your body gets stronger. 
    Our legs are still a bit shaky and our hearts a bit tender, but we are stronger too.   We are learning how to love you, and you are learning how to be loved.  You were sent to shake us up and make us new.   You've helped us shed some layers, and deepen our faith.  As you lay your tiny head on our shoulders each night, our hearts swell with a new understanding of grace.    We are the lucky ones, sweet girl.  We are the ones who have been blessed.

                                                              With love,
                                                              Mommy and Daddy

A Tale of Two Sisters (And Their Momma and Daddy)

Bonding.  Adjustment.  You think that you understand what those things are going to be like, but in reality, there is no way to prepare.  When people ask how we are, I have been saying "grateful, hopeful, and shell-shocked).  It would be impossible to go through such an emotional journey, and just come home to an easy happy ever after.  We have two  little ones that are still emotional and needy from all that the last few months have brought.  We had a lovely honeymoon period, but are now in the challenging stage.   They are very much fascinated by each other, and have lots of sweet moments (like sharing the beloved tiger chair post-bath), but these last few days have not been easy. 

Challenge number one has been getting a photo of the two of them looking and smiling at the camera....impos-e-blay.

Claire: She had a few days with lots of tears and unexplained tantrums, but is now becoming more at peace by the day.  She is blossoming, and it is a beautiful thing to see.   Every day brings more smiles and a stronger little body.  She thrives when lots of other kids are around.  She clearly loves being loved. 

Claire was very much undernourished, most likely having been given only rice cereal and formula.  Her test results revealed two conditions that many orphanage babies have: giardia (stomach parasite from unclean water) and anemia.  Both are being treated, and should be resolved soon.  She still breathes loudly, but we hope to get an explanation for that at our craniofacial appointment on 11/10.

She does not even register on the American growth charts for an 18 month old.  During her first few days at home, we realized how truly weak she was.  She had almost no muscle tone, which leads us to think that she spent most of her life in her crib.   She is now growing stronger and stronger by the day.  She walks without falling, and can even do a semi-run.  It is hard to get a photo of her as she is always on the move!

She is sleeping very well in her crib.  She takes cat naps in the car, a three hour nap, and sleeps about 12-13 hours at night.  She comes to us for comfort and likes to be held.  She does not like to be snuggled.  She pushes our hands away if we wrap our arms around her.  She just isn't used to being loved on in that way.  She has learned sign language for milk, more and eat, but doesn't use them regularly yet.  She does lots of babbling and pointing.

Sophia:  She had talked about Claire for well over a year.  She had in her mind all of the things that she was going to teach her new little sister.  The reality is that being a big sister to a fragile semi-toddler who doesn't communicate is hard.  She spent the first two weeks trying to hold, hug, kiss, teach, entertain and play with Claire.  About once an hour, she said, "I like being a big sister."  Or, "I think Claire is happy to be home."  These last few days; however, have been rough.  She has been very, very emotional and has spent lots of time in time-out. 

Bringing an 18 month old home, is a much different experience than bringing a baby home.  Sophia didn't get the experience of gradually becoming accustomed to a newborn who sleeps 17 hours a day.  She didn't get to hold her, watch her grow and help take care of her.  Claire is not a baby, but also isn't a toddler that she can play with.  I think either case might have been a bit easier for her.  She has become very frustrated with not being able to either care for or really play with Claire.  Claire is fascinated by Sophia, but doesn't want to be loved on or handled.  She laughs at her big sister, but doesn't yet understand how to play hide and go seek, how to blow bubbles, or how to color.

Whenever one of us leaves, Sophia asks if we are coming back.  She misses her grandparents who cared for her, and she craves our attention.  She is processing through, and actually talking about, becoming a big girl.  We think she is mourning the passing of her own babyhood.  She is also asking lots of questions about Claire's birth mother and about Claire's orphanages.  She is a smart little cookie who truly thinks about things beyond her age.  Her poor little heart and mind are struggling to make sense of it all. 

We are just taking things day by day, giving her lots of extra love and attention.  We've done lots of artwork, read lots of books and spent a great deal of time snuggling.   We are eating simple meals, and are just spending our time with our girls.  The beauty of this is that it is GOOD for her.  We don't want her to think that she is the center of all things.  We WANT her to serve, care for and love on others.   Ultimately, this will be a major blessing in her life. 

Us: Still feeling quite shell-shocked.  We can't believe what we saw.  We are angry with how undernourished and unhealthy Claire is.   We are coming down from the most intense emotions of our lives.  We are learning to have two kids.  We are walking through the bonding process.  (This post sums up some of what we are feeling to some degree.)  We are processing and wading through new territory.  More on all this to come...

So, the state of our union is fragile, but solid and hopeful.  We trust that this rough stage will pass.  We learned through the journey TO Claire that we are not in control, and that we can't do this thing called life on our own.  Now we are trying to live that out while we navigate into our new journey WITH Claire. 

LRs

We had a little impromptu get-together on Sunday afternoon.  Angela (Jay was out of town), Tymm, Laura and families were itching to get some Claire time, so they came to see us and brought lunch! 

It was some serious toddler mayhem.  The group just keeps multiplying, and is a living, breathing and squirming advertisement for adoption!  After we swept up chocolate cake crumbs, picked up a million toys, and everyone left,  Mark and I passed out on the couch and had a major belly laugh at the littles.  They have long since crossed the line from quiet, mild little babies.  They are wiggly, independent, silly, cupcake eating, time out getting, little sweet stinkers.  A new title is well deserved.  And so, may I introduce to you...

THE LITTLE RASCALS

A couch picture was in order, so we hunted down every last little silly band wearer and started snapping away.  The older LRs took great great care of the littlest rascal, making sure that she was safe on the crazy couch. 

They wiggled and they giggled for a grand total of two minutes together before returning to their dress up shoes and wooden food. 

Every shot is more hilarious than the last.  In the above shot, one LR is giving another LR a stern look of warning.  The LR on the end is just in her own little world, clapping and throwing her hands in the air!

There are always at least 2-3 LRs with open mouthed fly catcher action going on. 

Here, one LR demonstrated the around the neck of your neighbor clapping trick. 

The rest of the LRs were quite impressed. 

And then the fun moved up to Sophie's bedroom.  There really is no need for toys or entertainment for these toddlers.  They ooze craziness and fun. 

You know the picture book, Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed?  Well, it is all true, as this momma DID have to call the doctor.  The doctor said, "No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"  Luckily it was only "nursemaid's elbow". 

Rascals will be rascals.  We love every last one of them!

Deepest Gratitude for Our Team Captain

To truly be a team, you must struggle together, sweat together, work together, play together, and keep fighting together...all season.  This has been a challenging year for our team with lots of big joys and some tears too.  We have been in it together though, as we wear the same jersey.  We have had to keep playing when we wanted to give up, push ourselves harder and farther than we thought we could, keep our eyes on the bigger picture and work hard to enjoy the game.  How have we gotten through?   We have a rock star team captain.

Today, our TC goes back to work after a whirlwind last few months.  At the beginning of August, he was in Africa.  At the end of August, he was in China.  Despite extreme exhaustion, lots of frustration, intense emotions and crazy chaos, he has been our rock.  He leads, protects, loves, gives and serves with ease.  

 He played Sherpa while we were in China, carrying a giant backpack with bottles, Cheerios, diapers and precious adoption paperwork.   He handled finances, paperwork, and navigation duties, all while changing diapers and measuring out formula.  Claire bonded with Mark immediately, so he shared the load of carrying, loving, feeding and bathing.  He held her as she struggled to understand where she was and what was happening.  He hugged me while I shed tears of joy, fear, pain and panic.  He acted silly with Sophia on Skype to make her feel loved.  He simply loved on his girls. 

Back at home, he has continued to carry us all.  He held Claire while she had five vials of blood taken, held Sophia when we thought she had broken her arm, tucked in our girls, made us pancakes, held crying toddlers, and played endlessly with two sisters hungry for his attention.  At night, we have hit the pillows hard.  Sometimes instantly to sleep, other times talking for a long while about how we can keep moving through it all. 

Thank you, Mark.  Your girls couldn't ask for a better team captain. 

Because you are our team captain, we have felt safer to climb higher and farther than we ever thought we could. 

Family Pizza (on Steroids) Night

Saturday night, Jen, Mike, Ceci, Ben and Molly came over to bring us dinner and to officially meet and hang out with their new cousin.  We had seen them at the airport, but we were too brain-dead to really call it a meeting.  This week, Jen's kids had been sick, and we were, well...sleeping.  So, the excitement had risen to a fever pitch for the kiddos to finally hang out together!

The quickest way to our hearts is through pizza, so they brought the biggest one they could find.  This thing was the size of New Hampshire.  It took the whole family, and a couple extra hired hands, to carry it in. 

Have I adequately emphasized the size of the pie?  Seriously.

It was bigger than Claire. 

It was SO fun to finally have our two families together. 

The kiddos played, opened gifts, trashed our already trashed house, and checked out all of our memorabilia from China. 

The cupcakes that they brought were a hit with the littles.  Claire was a little unsure of her first little, personal sized cake, but she managed to consume every ounce of its icing. Afterward, it took four adults to hose the place (and the kids) down!

The highlight of the night was seeing the littles in their traditional Chinese outfits playing their drums!  They were way too enthralled by the beating of their drums (and hyped up on cake) to pose for a photo.

It was 1000% adorable and 2000% special.  The stuff of family memories!

We love us some cousins!