For the past several weeks, I've been meeting with other women from church and working through Beth Moore's study on Esther. It has been so relevant to every woman participating, on different levels and in different areas of our lives.
This past session's DVD, Beth Moore said something so simply profound, which just spoke to my heart, and I felt hot tears on my cheeks.
She read Isaiah 30:18: "Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; He rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him." She said, "A wait without longing is just a passing of time." Then she pointed out that God is longing for His plans for us to come to fruition, just as we are.
So, when I'm missing my kids, wondering why paperwork that was supposed to be here 4 weeks ago still isn't here, why people who traveled after us are already sending back to our kids' country paperwork we haven't even gotten to start on, waiting for unanswered questions to be answered (here on Earth and from Heaven), I can rest assured that God is longing for these things just as much as little itty-bitty me. He's excited about our gotcha day, anticipating our kids being orphans no more.
Before you think I've become patient, I'm on the verge of a big cry fest. We've been waiting 6 weeks for papers that were supposed to be here in only 2, and I don't even know when they'll be here. At this point, I'm beginning to wonder if our paperwork was lost with the postcard that never arrived. (We mailed a postcard to the kids while we were in-country, and haven't gotten it yet.) There are families who traveled after us that are now over a month ahead of us, because their immigration paperwork is finished, and we can't even start ours without the missing documents. And I can't get an answer on where the paperwork is. So, I'm most definitely failing in the patience department.
But those words were reassuring, as Scripture always is during my frequent moments of humanness. And I'll take every bit of reassurance I can get when I'm getting ready to take away my toddler's award of "Best Tantrum Ever."
Monday, November 26, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
Thank You Is Not Enough
There have been several times during our adoption where I tried to find something more eloquent to say than a simple 'thank you.' Today is one of those days.
Yesterday, we had our first holiday after meeting the kids, after they became real, more than a picture. While I was busy making food and spending time with several of our closest family friends, there was little time to think about missing them. I noticed their absence in the little things; as we set up chairs at the kids' table, I told my friend, Jessica, that we'd need two more seats next year. One of our friends asked at lunch, "What is it going to take to get them here?"
Last night, when the house was quiet and the dishes were done, I felt just how strongly my heart is aching to have them here with me. It's so strange, a new feeling I've never experienced, to have my heart ache this way.
I smelled Denny the other night. I was looking through pictures of our time with him, and I smelled his little scent, not freshly bathed, but also not too long past a bath. Just his sweet scent.
I can still hear Tory's voice, remember how her chubby little fingers felt in my hand.
And I want them home.
And today, we made a big stride closer to them. No, the paperwork we've been waiting on for over a month still isn't here. But a dear couple came to our house this afternoon, and gave us a gift. This couple has poured into our adoption again and again, and a simple 'thank you' does not do our gratitude justice.
You know who you are, and you are such a blessing! When our thanks don't seem enough, please know that you are such an encouragement to us in your selfless obedience. I pray that more and more, our hearts are stretched like yours, and that we can be as much a blessing to others as you have been to us and to others in our community.
For those of you adopting or feeling pulled, we had no idea when we started where our funding would come from, or how it would come. We praise GOD for every dollar that we've been able to pay, because it hasn't been from us. I am continually amazed by how and who God moves, and I assure you, you will be amazed as well!
Yesterday, we had our first holiday after meeting the kids, after they became real, more than a picture. While I was busy making food and spending time with several of our closest family friends, there was little time to think about missing them. I noticed their absence in the little things; as we set up chairs at the kids' table, I told my friend, Jessica, that we'd need two more seats next year. One of our friends asked at lunch, "What is it going to take to get them here?"
Last night, when the house was quiet and the dishes were done, I felt just how strongly my heart is aching to have them here with me. It's so strange, a new feeling I've never experienced, to have my heart ache this way.
I smelled Denny the other night. I was looking through pictures of our time with him, and I smelled his little scent, not freshly bathed, but also not too long past a bath. Just his sweet scent.
I can still hear Tory's voice, remember how her chubby little fingers felt in my hand.
And I want them home.
And today, we made a big stride closer to them. No, the paperwork we've been waiting on for over a month still isn't here. But a dear couple came to our house this afternoon, and gave us a gift. This couple has poured into our adoption again and again, and a simple 'thank you' does not do our gratitude justice.
You know who you are, and you are such a blessing! When our thanks don't seem enough, please know that you are such an encouragement to us in your selfless obedience. I pray that more and more, our hearts are stretched like yours, and that we can be as much a blessing to others as you have been to us and to others in our community.
For those of you adopting or feeling pulled, we had no idea when we started where our funding would come from, or how it would come. We praise GOD for every dollar that we've been able to pay, because it hasn't been from us. I am continually amazed by how and who God moves, and I assure you, you will be amazed as well!
Friday, November 2, 2012
A Recap of Our Trip: Visit 2 & 3 (Take 2)
Our second visit with Tory was actually a full day, so I'm blogging it as visits 2 and 3 (typically visits are a couple of hours each, and we were with her for 7).
We drove from our apartment to her village, excited to see her again, and looking forward to spending a full day with her! We pulled up to the orphanage and walked through the gate, up the sidewalk that passed in front of the building, and up the stairs to the door. Even before we made it to the door, an excited little girl was there waiting for us! She ran to me, then Scott, giving us each hugs and announcing that her Mama and Daddy were back to see her!
She was wearing the same outfit from the day before, only she had changed her shoes to white sneakers. She's independent in picking out what she wants to wear, and it's her favorite outfit! She had a new pink bag, full of her toys from the day before, and we were told that she had not let her gifts out of her sight!
We were not at the orphanage long before it was decided that it was a good time to go and take Tory's visa photo. We left the orphanage with Tory and her baba, and made the drive to a city about half an hour away. We parked and made our way to the local photo shop to have her picture taken, and she isn't a fan of you just clicking the camera in her face. She sort of stared down the camera at first, but after a bit of coaxing, she finally smiled for the photographer! She loves to see her picture after it's taken, and seemed pleased with her picture.
While we were there, I popped my camera's memory card out and put it in the photo kiosk, printing the picture we took the day before of the three of us. Once it was finished, I gave it to Tory to add to her photo book. She just beamed! All pictures and paperwork finished, we asked for directions to the post office, so we could mail the postcard we picked up in Denny's region. We knew we'd beat the postcard home, but our kids love getting things in the mail, and what's cooler than a postcard from mom and dad! (As of this post, that postcard still hasn't made it here. Hopefully within the next week?)
Tory spent the ride back to the orphanage looking back and forth between Scott and me, looking at our wedding rings, holding our hands, and listening to the conversation between our translator and her baba. Neither of us can remember the question asked, and we almost missed it, but Tory was asked a question, and she responded with an English "yes" instead of "da."
Once back, it was time for us to learn more about her diabetes, and she sat down at the dining table, while her apartment "mother" explained her ideal blood sugar level, and how much insulin she gives based on her actual level. Tory helped with each step of the now familiar process of checking her blood sugar level and receiving insulin. She had lunch after that, a nice meal of fish, fresh tomato and cucumber, a feta-looking cheese, and an apple. They take care of Tory, and for that, I am so very thankful. I cannot imagine how Tory's diabetes would be handled in other orphanages, or if anyone would ever have bothered to push to find out why she lost weight suddenly, why she was apathetic about playing.
Tory wanted to take us on a walk through her village, and we were hungry, so she escorted us outside, up a set of stairs, and out a different gate that led further into the village. She held Scott's hand the entire walk, and I stopped to take several pictures. Somehow she knew when I stopped, and she turned around to call me to come on. As we walked, we passed an old playground, with painted metal fencing around the outside, and metal swings, slides, and jungle gyms inside. Our translator asked if she liked to play there, and she replied that she did.
We walked on to the grocery store, and Tory stopped once to drink from a running fountain. We went in to the tiny store and got snacks and water, then walked back to the playground. She wanted to swing on every single swing there, and would call to Scott to come push her or me to swing next to her. I barely fit my hips into the metal swings, but we had so much fun, swinging and climbing on the playground.
It reminded me so much of my childhood, before all the metal playgrounds were gone, replaced by big plastic slides. I know, I know, the metal gets hot in the summer, but there is something wonderfully nostalgic about the paint-chipped blue jungle gyms, red and yellow swings, and bright silver slides. And not only that, but we talked about our tendency here to get rid of the old, bring in the new, and there, they preserve what they have. It was beautiful, everything there was beautiful.
But back to our visit. The one day there that the temperature changed drastically from morning to afternoon, I was wearing long sleeves, and I felt a headache coming on strong. I was a bit dehydrated, from eating these yummy dehydrated bread slices, and even drinking a liter of water wasn't enough to help. We sat at a table at the playground, and Tory got out the nesting cups we gave her. She would unstack and restack the cups, pretending they were full of tea or coffee or (ahem) beer, and occasionally full of chocolates for us to eat. We must've played there for over an hour before walking back to the orphanage.
Back in her room, she changed into something more comfortable. She called from her room into the living area "Obicham te, Mama!" again, just like the day before, telling me that she loves me. My girl has been waiting for a Mama for a long time. Even the initial report we received about her described that she would draw pictures and say they were for her Mama. I don't know how far in advance they prepared her for us coming, but she knew that she was finally chosen before we arrived, and she was excited!
We sat down at a table in the living area, and Tory dealt cards to us. She made the rules up as she went, calling the game 'Dog' (we called it 'Tory Makes the Rules' because we never knew how she was going to set up the game or make us turn in our cards). But we laughed the entire time, and talked about how we are really in for a change at home with such a bossy young lady! She is a sassy thing; cute, for sure, but S-A-S-S-Y!!!
Faster than we wanted, our day with Tory was over, and it was time to drive back to the capital. She happily waved us off, knowing we'd be back the next day and ran to play with one of her friends. My headache tapered off a bit, as I dozed on the drive. We needed to sign documents and have them notarized, stating we wished to continue with the adoption, so we drove to meet one of the other ladies with our agency at a notary's office. We went over the translations, signed 5 or so documents, then left to go back to the apartment. We were so tired, and the cigarette smoke inside the notary's office brought my headache back in full force, so we didn't even eat out that night. I think I fell asleep to Phineas & Ferb speaking a foreign language.
We drove from our apartment to her village, excited to see her again, and looking forward to spending a full day with her! We pulled up to the orphanage and walked through the gate, up the sidewalk that passed in front of the building, and up the stairs to the door. Even before we made it to the door, an excited little girl was there waiting for us! She ran to me, then Scott, giving us each hugs and announcing that her Mama and Daddy were back to see her!
She was wearing the same outfit from the day before, only she had changed her shoes to white sneakers. She's independent in picking out what she wants to wear, and it's her favorite outfit! She had a new pink bag, full of her toys from the day before, and we were told that she had not let her gifts out of her sight!
We were not at the orphanage long before it was decided that it was a good time to go and take Tory's visa photo. We left the orphanage with Tory and her baba, and made the drive to a city about half an hour away. We parked and made our way to the local photo shop to have her picture taken, and she isn't a fan of you just clicking the camera in her face. She sort of stared down the camera at first, but after a bit of coaxing, she finally smiled for the photographer! She loves to see her picture after it's taken, and seemed pleased with her picture.
While we were there, I popped my camera's memory card out and put it in the photo kiosk, printing the picture we took the day before of the three of us. Once it was finished, I gave it to Tory to add to her photo book. She just beamed! All pictures and paperwork finished, we asked for directions to the post office, so we could mail the postcard we picked up in Denny's region. We knew we'd beat the postcard home, but our kids love getting things in the mail, and what's cooler than a postcard from mom and dad! (As of this post, that postcard still hasn't made it here. Hopefully within the next week?)
Tory spent the ride back to the orphanage looking back and forth between Scott and me, looking at our wedding rings, holding our hands, and listening to the conversation between our translator and her baba. Neither of us can remember the question asked, and we almost missed it, but Tory was asked a question, and she responded with an English "yes" instead of "da."
Once back, it was time for us to learn more about her diabetes, and she sat down at the dining table, while her apartment "mother" explained her ideal blood sugar level, and how much insulin she gives based on her actual level. Tory helped with each step of the now familiar process of checking her blood sugar level and receiving insulin. She had lunch after that, a nice meal of fish, fresh tomato and cucumber, a feta-looking cheese, and an apple. They take care of Tory, and for that, I am so very thankful. I cannot imagine how Tory's diabetes would be handled in other orphanages, or if anyone would ever have bothered to push to find out why she lost weight suddenly, why she was apathetic about playing.
Tory wanted to take us on a walk through her village, and we were hungry, so she escorted us outside, up a set of stairs, and out a different gate that led further into the village. She held Scott's hand the entire walk, and I stopped to take several pictures. Somehow she knew when I stopped, and she turned around to call me to come on. As we walked, we passed an old playground, with painted metal fencing around the outside, and metal swings, slides, and jungle gyms inside. Our translator asked if she liked to play there, and she replied that she did.
We walked on to the grocery store, and Tory stopped once to drink from a running fountain. We went in to the tiny store and got snacks and water, then walked back to the playground. She wanted to swing on every single swing there, and would call to Scott to come push her or me to swing next to her. I barely fit my hips into the metal swings, but we had so much fun, swinging and climbing on the playground.
It reminded me so much of my childhood, before all the metal playgrounds were gone, replaced by big plastic slides. I know, I know, the metal gets hot in the summer, but there is something wonderfully nostalgic about the paint-chipped blue jungle gyms, red and yellow swings, and bright silver slides. And not only that, but we talked about our tendency here to get rid of the old, bring in the new, and there, they preserve what they have. It was beautiful, everything there was beautiful.
But back to our visit. The one day there that the temperature changed drastically from morning to afternoon, I was wearing long sleeves, and I felt a headache coming on strong. I was a bit dehydrated, from eating these yummy dehydrated bread slices, and even drinking a liter of water wasn't enough to help. We sat at a table at the playground, and Tory got out the nesting cups we gave her. She would unstack and restack the cups, pretending they were full of tea or coffee or (ahem) beer, and occasionally full of chocolates for us to eat. We must've played there for over an hour before walking back to the orphanage.
Back in her room, she changed into something more comfortable. She called from her room into the living area "Obicham te, Mama!" again, just like the day before, telling me that she loves me. My girl has been waiting for a Mama for a long time. Even the initial report we received about her described that she would draw pictures and say they were for her Mama. I don't know how far in advance they prepared her for us coming, but she knew that she was finally chosen before we arrived, and she was excited!
We sat down at a table in the living area, and Tory dealt cards to us. She made the rules up as she went, calling the game 'Dog' (we called it 'Tory Makes the Rules' because we never knew how she was going to set up the game or make us turn in our cards). But we laughed the entire time, and talked about how we are really in for a change at home with such a bossy young lady! She is a sassy thing; cute, for sure, but S-A-S-S-Y!!!
Faster than we wanted, our day with Tory was over, and it was time to drive back to the capital. She happily waved us off, knowing we'd be back the next day and ran to play with one of her friends. My headache tapered off a bit, as I dozed on the drive. We needed to sign documents and have them notarized, stating we wished to continue with the adoption, so we drove to meet one of the other ladies with our agency at a notary's office. We went over the translations, signed 5 or so documents, then left to go back to the apartment. We were so tired, and the cigarette smoke inside the notary's office brought my headache back in full force, so we didn't even eat out that night. I think I fell asleep to Phineas & Ferb speaking a foreign language.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
A Recap of Our Trip: Visit 1 (Take 2)
We left Denny's region and made the drive about an hour northeast to Tory's region. I was exhausted, emotionally drained, and apologized to our translator for nodding off so much. So, I missed a bit of the drive, but I was awake enough to see the highway being widened (which we were told takes just as long over there as it does here, for anyone who has ever driven I-40 in NC and griped about the decade-long construction). Getting in a quick nap meant I'd have energy for our first visit with Tory, so I didn't feel too guilty.
Denny lives just outside a decent-sized city, where there were several restaurants, plenty of stores, and um, a hotel. Tory lives in a small village, and we passed what appeared to be a restaurant, probably more like a deli, and there was a very small grocery store. Aside from a small playground, houses and the plentiful gardens that grew in front of the houses, there was nothing else in the village.
Denny being in a city and Tory being in a village had absolutely no correlation to the condition of their orphanages. Where Denny's was very old, drafty, and dark, Tory's was completely renovated with all new... everything. I was shocked when we walked up to the freshly painted building and were welcomed inside by one of the caretakers, who led us down a bright hallway to the director's office. Every door we entered was new, the floors were new, it was immaculate.
As we entered the director's office, she was engaged in conversation with three or four older kids, and they left shortly after we came in. She was instantly warm, and began talking to us almost faster than our translator could tell us what she was saying! She was so excited that we had come to meet Tory; Tory woke up that morning and dressed in her favorite outfit to meet her Mommy and Daddy; the social worker was on her way in if we have any questions; we're a beautiful family, on and on, just beaming.
After speaking back and forth for a few minutes, she asked one last question: "Do you want to meet her?" I almost jumped off the couch with my 'yes'. Seriously, she has been a picture since January, and we had finally jumped through enough hoops, filled out enough paperwork, and paid enough of the fees to be standing in the director's office, just a door separating us from our daughter.
The door opened, and in walked a beautiful young lady, her dark hair braided around her head (which we later found out was done by one of the older girls there), wearing a pink shirt with matching denim skirt and jacket with pink flowers on the hem, white stockings, and pink shoes. She. Loves. Pink. This is her favorite outfit, and she wanted to be wearing it when she met us!
She shyly held her head down as we said hello to her, and someone suggested that she sit next to us. She responded 'da' (yes) when questions were asked, but she was still too shy to look up. My bag was sitting at my feet, and I pulled out the doll I made for her, with her name stitched on the front of the dress. She immediately beamed and held the doll close to her, and the shyness was gone! She did have one question about the doll, which I hadn't really considered, but she wanted to know where her panties were. I told her I'd make a pair, and she was satisfied.
After a few moments, she leaned over to see if there were other things in my bag, and there were. A couple of things I meant to leave at Denny's orphanage, but forgot. There were nesting cups and one of those peg thingies that you can press your hand into, which she was absolutely terrified of at first! Everything we gave her she would not put down, and kept saying, "These are mine, from my Mommy and Uncle Daddy." ('Uncle' is a term they use for introducing male strangers, like we use 'Mister' here.) Having personal possessions in an orphanage is a BIG deal, because almost everything is communal property.
She wanted to show us where she lives, so we made our way back up the hall and up the flight of stairs to another doorway. Through this doorway was an apartment, with a kitchenette, dining area, living room, 2 bedrooms, and bathroom. Everything was new, freshly updated. We asked when these renovations happened, and it was all in the past two years, with the director advocating and looking for donors to sponsor all the updates. It was wonderful to see how passionate she is about these kids, and made me feel so good about Tory waiting there for us.
The director left, and we were alone with Tory and our translator, who told us that she took the 40 pictures we received when we first inquired about Tory. The pictures that were almost two years old when we committed to her. So our translator, who we saw all week loved being with these kids, was personally invested in Tory finding a family. I was so glad she was there for our first meeting!
We spent our time with Tory, just playing... with Legos (she gave Scott every single teeny tiny piece she dug out), with playing cards (we called the game "Tory Makes the Rules" because she would deal the cards in the order she wanted, take them away from you at random points during the game, and declare a different winner at the end of each round), and with the toys we brought.
She was still a bit reserved, keeping her personal space, except for one picture of the three of us, which for us was very reassuring, because all our education has stressed attachment and how it's important that children *don't* hug and show affection to each person they meet.
She looked through the photo book we brought, stopped at each picture, and "kissed" each of us. She'd say again and again, "I love Mommy, I love Uncle Daddy, I love the girl (Ayden), I love the child (Elijah), and I love the baby (Sadie)!" She would just look at us and grin, and once she ran into her bedroom and called "Obicham te, Mama!" (I love you, Mama).
A couple of the girls came into the room that afternoon, and they were learning English in school. They were so proud to say "Hello. How are you? What is your name?" to us, and us respond. One of the girls was the one who had fixed Tory's hair, and Tory loved any attention she got from her.
We left that afternoon with her standing at the doorway of the orphanage, and as we walked across the yard, she ran to each of her friends and said, "I have a Mommy! I have a Daddy!" and showed the pictures to everyone. Everyone. She beamed the whole afternoon, and so did I.
We actually drove the director home that afternoon, to a larger city about half an hour from the orphanage, and she talked most of the time, asking how we thought the first meeting went, telling about the orphanage meeting the new EU requirements, talking about how happy she was that Tory was being adopted. She talked about her son studying American legislation in college, which is why she was without a car.
Once we were back at our apartment in the capital, Scott's first words were "Whatever it takes, we've got to get them home fast!" The difference between the two orphanages was night and day, and we were sad for Denny that he has grown so little in his, and thankful beyond measure that Tory is in such a wonderful place, especially considering the medical update we received just before we traveled: that she has Type 1 Diabetes.
Denny lives just outside a decent-sized city, where there were several restaurants, plenty of stores, and um, a hotel. Tory lives in a small village, and we passed what appeared to be a restaurant, probably more like a deli, and there was a very small grocery store. Aside from a small playground, houses and the plentiful gardens that grew in front of the houses, there was nothing else in the village.
Denny being in a city and Tory being in a village had absolutely no correlation to the condition of their orphanages. Where Denny's was very old, drafty, and dark, Tory's was completely renovated with all new... everything. I was shocked when we walked up to the freshly painted building and were welcomed inside by one of the caretakers, who led us down a bright hallway to the director's office. Every door we entered was new, the floors were new, it was immaculate.
As we entered the director's office, she was engaged in conversation with three or four older kids, and they left shortly after we came in. She was instantly warm, and began talking to us almost faster than our translator could tell us what she was saying! She was so excited that we had come to meet Tory; Tory woke up that morning and dressed in her favorite outfit to meet her Mommy and Daddy; the social worker was on her way in if we have any questions; we're a beautiful family, on and on, just beaming.
After speaking back and forth for a few minutes, she asked one last question: "Do you want to meet her?" I almost jumped off the couch with my 'yes'. Seriously, she has been a picture since January, and we had finally jumped through enough hoops, filled out enough paperwork, and paid enough of the fees to be standing in the director's office, just a door separating us from our daughter.
The door opened, and in walked a beautiful young lady, her dark hair braided around her head (which we later found out was done by one of the older girls there), wearing a pink shirt with matching denim skirt and jacket with pink flowers on the hem, white stockings, and pink shoes. She. Loves. Pink. This is her favorite outfit, and she wanted to be wearing it when she met us!
She shyly held her head down as we said hello to her, and someone suggested that she sit next to us. She responded 'da' (yes) when questions were asked, but she was still too shy to look up. My bag was sitting at my feet, and I pulled out the doll I made for her, with her name stitched on the front of the dress. She immediately beamed and held the doll close to her, and the shyness was gone! She did have one question about the doll, which I hadn't really considered, but she wanted to know where her panties were. I told her I'd make a pair, and she was satisfied.
After a few moments, she leaned over to see if there were other things in my bag, and there were. A couple of things I meant to leave at Denny's orphanage, but forgot. There were nesting cups and one of those peg thingies that you can press your hand into, which she was absolutely terrified of at first! Everything we gave her she would not put down, and kept saying, "These are mine, from my Mommy and Uncle Daddy." ('Uncle' is a term they use for introducing male strangers, like we use 'Mister' here.) Having personal possessions in an orphanage is a BIG deal, because almost everything is communal property.
She wanted to show us where she lives, so we made our way back up the hall and up the flight of stairs to another doorway. Through this doorway was an apartment, with a kitchenette, dining area, living room, 2 bedrooms, and bathroom. Everything was new, freshly updated. We asked when these renovations happened, and it was all in the past two years, with the director advocating and looking for donors to sponsor all the updates. It was wonderful to see how passionate she is about these kids, and made me feel so good about Tory waiting there for us.
The director left, and we were alone with Tory and our translator, who told us that she took the 40 pictures we received when we first inquired about Tory. The pictures that were almost two years old when we committed to her. So our translator, who we saw all week loved being with these kids, was personally invested in Tory finding a family. I was so glad she was there for our first meeting!
We spent our time with Tory, just playing... with Legos (she gave Scott every single teeny tiny piece she dug out), with playing cards (we called the game "Tory Makes the Rules" because she would deal the cards in the order she wanted, take them away from you at random points during the game, and declare a different winner at the end of each round), and with the toys we brought.
She was still a bit reserved, keeping her personal space, except for one picture of the three of us, which for us was very reassuring, because all our education has stressed attachment and how it's important that children *don't* hug and show affection to each person they meet.
She looked through the photo book we brought, stopped at each picture, and "kissed" each of us. She'd say again and again, "I love Mommy, I love Uncle Daddy, I love the girl (Ayden), I love the child (Elijah), and I love the baby (Sadie)!" She would just look at us and grin, and once she ran into her bedroom and called "Obicham te, Mama!" (I love you, Mama).
A couple of the girls came into the room that afternoon, and they were learning English in school. They were so proud to say "Hello. How are you? What is your name?" to us, and us respond. One of the girls was the one who had fixed Tory's hair, and Tory loved any attention she got from her.
We left that afternoon with her standing at the doorway of the orphanage, and as we walked across the yard, she ran to each of her friends and said, "I have a Mommy! I have a Daddy!" and showed the pictures to everyone. Everyone. She beamed the whole afternoon, and so did I.
We actually drove the director home that afternoon, to a larger city about half an hour from the orphanage, and she talked most of the time, asking how we thought the first meeting went, telling about the orphanage meeting the new EU requirements, talking about how happy she was that Tory was being adopted. She talked about her son studying American legislation in college, which is why she was without a car.
Once we were back at our apartment in the capital, Scott's first words were "Whatever it takes, we've got to get them home fast!" The difference between the two orphanages was night and day, and we were sad for Denny that he has grown so little in his, and thankful beyond measure that Tory is in such a wonderful place, especially considering the medical update we received just before we traveled: that she has Type 1 Diabetes.
Monday, October 22, 2012
A Recap of Our Trip: Visit 5
I dreaded even getting up that morning, because going to see him meant saying 'goodbye' for the next several months. But it also meant one more visit with this amazing little boy who, even when he was just a picture and especially now that he was real, had stolen a piece of my heart, and that was worth a few more months of waiting.
We drove to the orphanage, no sign of the cars that forbid us to drive the day before, and waited in the corridor while our translator went to have documents signed by the director. A few moments later, and we wove our way back to the playroom to see Denny.
I walked in, scanning the room for my sweet boy, and didn't see him. Another scan of the room, and he had turned his face toward us, and no wonder I didn't see him, his hair had been cut! He had ears!!! (You think I'm kidding, but his hair stood UP a good 4" on the top of his head, and was long enough that you couldn't see his ears.) I rushed over and scooped him up, and he leaned in for the kisses he knew were coming. A smart boy, that one, knowing that mommy loves to smooch on those cheeks!
I asked our translator, and she confirmed that they had cut his hair for his visa picture. Which meant that we got to leave the orphanage with him. His physical therapist joined us, and the five of us drove down to the city, Denny sitting between Scott and me, his hands resting in mine. In that short time, I imagined what it would feel like in a few months, knowing he was out for good, and I had to stop thinking, because I was getting emotional. (They call it a "paper pregnancy" for a reason.)
I carried Denny from the car to a small shop tucked away in a corner of several buildings, and I had a moment where I thought, "I wonder how far I'd get if I just started running now." I'm not in jail in a foreign country, so obviously logic won over insanity, but I get to be honest here, and it was a real thought.
Getting a 5 year old boy, who is cognitively and developmentally about a year old, to sit up with his head at just the right angle with his eyes looking straight at the camera and not irritating him in the process was no small task, but finally it happened. I wish I had a picture of the scene, me practically laying on the stool, with Denny sideways on my lap, my arm hiding behind his body to push him into sitting up straight and move his head to the right position. There were no less than 10 pictures taken, and I was so happy when the photographer finally looked pleased with a picture!
We waited for the photo to be cropped and printed, then we started back up the mountain to the orphanage. The orphanage is not like most other places you go, where they fade into the scenery and you have a hard time picking them out from any of the other places around them. No, this building was visible from the highway as we came into the city, and at almost every turn up the mountain, you get a view of it. Every time I saw it on the drive back, it was silently pointing out that Denny was still stuck there, that I couldn't have him yet.
Back in the playroom, we were left alone with Denny, and I wanted only to snuggle with him. Our translator was in and out of the room, but she stayed on the far side of the room so Denny wouldn't notice her there. I hadn't forgotten my goal of getting him to go down the stairs on his own, so when he seemed like he was ready to go, we made our way over to the stairs, and up he went. At the top, he grabbed the railing again, knowing what I wanted him to do next. I helped him bend one knee while stepping down with the other foot and cheered when his muscles didn't fight me to do it.
Once down, we circled around to do it again. This time, at the top, he watched my face as he took a step down on his own, and I cheered so excitedly that Scott shushed me (oops)! Denny is smart, capable, and loves to be praised! He has just been trapped in a place where he has not been given more opportunities to grow and develop.
We sat back down with Scott to spend our last bit of time just being together and, even without a watch, I knew it was time to go. More time passed, and no one came in to announce that our time was up. I was thankful, but Denny was starting to get restless. I didn't want our last visit to end like the day before, so I asked if it was time for him to eat and take a nap. Our translator said the other children were already eating, and that we would need to leave soon so he could eat.
I stood Denny up, and he started walking with me, and I let him lead where he wanted to go. Not surprising to me, he went straight for the door leading out of the playroom, knowing it was time to eat. I picked him up and held him close once more, taking in my last moments with him as we walked back to the door that led to his bed.
When the door opened, he leaned into me, not wanting to be handed back, but thankfully he didn't scream. I don't know that my heart could've handled leaving like that again. I don't know if he expected us to be back again after his nap, but I prayed for him to know we'd be back as soon as we possibly could.
We saw his physical therapist, and remembered that we never took the picture that I wanted of him with her. She brought him back out and we sat together, getting a quick picture before leaving again. Denny went back to his bed, and the physical therapist walked out with us.
I tried so hard not to cry as we left, and again I failed. I can't even type without crying. Leaving is hard. It was, to date, the hardest part of the adoption. It doesn't matter how much you tell yourself that it's the next step to bringing them home, or that in only a few months you'll have the rest of their lives, it's hard in the present, and in each day that passes. I am so, so thankful that we took lots of pictures, because I look at them all the time.
As hard as leaving was, it was bittersweet. As our translator said, leaving meant we got to meet our daughter. And she was only a picture for nine long months.
We drove to the orphanage, no sign of the cars that forbid us to drive the day before, and waited in the corridor while our translator went to have documents signed by the director. A few moments later, and we wove our way back to the playroom to see Denny.
I walked in, scanning the room for my sweet boy, and didn't see him. Another scan of the room, and he had turned his face toward us, and no wonder I didn't see him, his hair had been cut! He had ears!!! (You think I'm kidding, but his hair stood UP a good 4" on the top of his head, and was long enough that you couldn't see his ears.) I rushed over and scooped him up, and he leaned in for the kisses he knew were coming. A smart boy, that one, knowing that mommy loves to smooch on those cheeks!
I asked our translator, and she confirmed that they had cut his hair for his visa picture. Which meant that we got to leave the orphanage with him. His physical therapist joined us, and the five of us drove down to the city, Denny sitting between Scott and me, his hands resting in mine. In that short time, I imagined what it would feel like in a few months, knowing he was out for good, and I had to stop thinking, because I was getting emotional. (They call it a "paper pregnancy" for a reason.)
I carried Denny from the car to a small shop tucked away in a corner of several buildings, and I had a moment where I thought, "I wonder how far I'd get if I just started running now." I'm not in jail in a foreign country, so obviously logic won over insanity, but I get to be honest here, and it was a real thought.
Getting a 5 year old boy, who is cognitively and developmentally about a year old, to sit up with his head at just the right angle with his eyes looking straight at the camera and not irritating him in the process was no small task, but finally it happened. I wish I had a picture of the scene, me practically laying on the stool, with Denny sideways on my lap, my arm hiding behind his body to push him into sitting up straight and move his head to the right position. There were no less than 10 pictures taken, and I was so happy when the photographer finally looked pleased with a picture!
We waited for the photo to be cropped and printed, then we started back up the mountain to the orphanage. The orphanage is not like most other places you go, where they fade into the scenery and you have a hard time picking them out from any of the other places around them. No, this building was visible from the highway as we came into the city, and at almost every turn up the mountain, you get a view of it. Every time I saw it on the drive back, it was silently pointing out that Denny was still stuck there, that I couldn't have him yet.
Back in the playroom, we were left alone with Denny, and I wanted only to snuggle with him. Our translator was in and out of the room, but she stayed on the far side of the room so Denny wouldn't notice her there. I hadn't forgotten my goal of getting him to go down the stairs on his own, so when he seemed like he was ready to go, we made our way over to the stairs, and up he went. At the top, he grabbed the railing again, knowing what I wanted him to do next. I helped him bend one knee while stepping down with the other foot and cheered when his muscles didn't fight me to do it.
Once down, we circled around to do it again. This time, at the top, he watched my face as he took a step down on his own, and I cheered so excitedly that Scott shushed me (oops)! Denny is smart, capable, and loves to be praised! He has just been trapped in a place where he has not been given more opportunities to grow and develop.
We sat back down with Scott to spend our last bit of time just being together and, even without a watch, I knew it was time to go. More time passed, and no one came in to announce that our time was up. I was thankful, but Denny was starting to get restless. I didn't want our last visit to end like the day before, so I asked if it was time for him to eat and take a nap. Our translator said the other children were already eating, and that we would need to leave soon so he could eat.
I stood Denny up, and he started walking with me, and I let him lead where he wanted to go. Not surprising to me, he went straight for the door leading out of the playroom, knowing it was time to eat. I picked him up and held him close once more, taking in my last moments with him as we walked back to the door that led to his bed.
When the door opened, he leaned into me, not wanting to be handed back, but thankfully he didn't scream. I don't know that my heart could've handled leaving like that again. I don't know if he expected us to be back again after his nap, but I prayed for him to know we'd be back as soon as we possibly could.
We saw his physical therapist, and remembered that we never took the picture that I wanted of him with her. She brought him back out and we sat together, getting a quick picture before leaving again. Denny went back to his bed, and the physical therapist walked out with us.
I tried so hard not to cry as we left, and again I failed. I can't even type without crying. Leaving is hard. It was, to date, the hardest part of the adoption. It doesn't matter how much you tell yourself that it's the next step to bringing them home, or that in only a few months you'll have the rest of their lives, it's hard in the present, and in each day that passes. I am so, so thankful that we took lots of pictures, because I look at them all the time.
As hard as leaving was, it was bittersweet. As our translator said, leaving meant we got to meet our daughter. And she was only a picture for nine long months.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
A Recap of Our Trip: Visit 4
Denny always seemed more sluggish at our afternoon visits, and once again he was carried out to us and we made our way to the playroom. We needed to give him about 10 minutes to wake up, so we sat together and I sang, bounced him on my knees, and played peek-a-boo until he was a little more alert. He was eating up the attention and affection, and was really leaning in for kisses. He would giggle every time my lips smacked his cheeks!
Scott held Denny a bit, and they took in the view from the window. (Denny prefers women, understandably so, since the only two men we saw at the orphanage never spoke to us or acknowledged the children, so he didn't want much to do with Scott until this visit.) And we quickly discovered that Denny can almost run with the right motivation! If Scott held Denny's hands, and I walked backwards on my knees, calling to him, Denny would do his best to run to get to me! We were moving now!
He had endless energy with this game, so we put the stairs to the test with our new game. Scott helped him walk up the stairs, and I stood ready on the other side, to help him bend his leg and step down. He needed a LOT of help, but when he made the first step down and I cheered "Bravo!!!!" his whole face lit up. It made my heart so happy to see him love the praise so much.
Those were the fastest 2.5 hours of our trip, and we got our 10 minute notice from a caretaker. Denny was doing so well this visit, and I wasn't ready to leave. But leave we must, so I carried Denny back through the corridors that twisted to where the littles ate and slept. The caretaker who just popped in to tell us we had 10 minutes was nowhere in sight, and another worker was walking up the stairs, and said she would take him.
I pulled Denny's arms from around my neck to pass him to the worker, and as I did, he started screaming and twisting to get back to me. I fought every maternal instinct to pull him back to me, and the worker tried to shush him as she walked away, but I could hear him crying as we walked away, tears streaming down my face. That was the first time he preferred me over someone else, and having to leave him right then was gut-wrenching.
The whole drive back to the hotel, I rode with my sunglasses on, trying to push back the tears, and quietly failing. I thought about leaving Sadie in the NICU on my discharge date, and how similar the feeling was, even though one was carried in my womb for seven months, and the other in my heart for only three months.
Scott's words that evening mirrored my feelings, when he told me that he didn't care what it took, we had to get them home fast.
Scott held Denny a bit, and they took in the view from the window. (Denny prefers women, understandably so, since the only two men we saw at the orphanage never spoke to us or acknowledged the children, so he didn't want much to do with Scott until this visit.) And we quickly discovered that Denny can almost run with the right motivation! If Scott held Denny's hands, and I walked backwards on my knees, calling to him, Denny would do his best to run to get to me! We were moving now!
He had endless energy with this game, so we put the stairs to the test with our new game. Scott helped him walk up the stairs, and I stood ready on the other side, to help him bend his leg and step down. He needed a LOT of help, but when he made the first step down and I cheered "Bravo!!!!" his whole face lit up. It made my heart so happy to see him love the praise so much.
Those were the fastest 2.5 hours of our trip, and we got our 10 minute notice from a caretaker. Denny was doing so well this visit, and I wasn't ready to leave. But leave we must, so I carried Denny back through the corridors that twisted to where the littles ate and slept. The caretaker who just popped in to tell us we had 10 minutes was nowhere in sight, and another worker was walking up the stairs, and said she would take him.
I pulled Denny's arms from around my neck to pass him to the worker, and as I did, he started screaming and twisting to get back to me. I fought every maternal instinct to pull him back to me, and the worker tried to shush him as she walked away, but I could hear him crying as we walked away, tears streaming down my face. That was the first time he preferred me over someone else, and having to leave him right then was gut-wrenching.
The whole drive back to the hotel, I rode with my sunglasses on, trying to push back the tears, and quietly failing. I thought about leaving Sadie in the NICU on my discharge date, and how similar the feeling was, even though one was carried in my womb for seven months, and the other in my heart for only three months.
Scott's words that evening mirrored my feelings, when he told me that he didn't care what it took, we had to get them home fast.
Friday, October 19, 2012
A Recap of Our Trip: Visit 3
We drove up to the orphanage, and were stopped by two cars half-blocking the road, and a woman wagging her finger at our driver/translator. We were told that a helicopter was passing over the trees next to the road, to spray chemicals, and that we couldn't drive on the road, and needed to park on the road that forked off of the road we were taking.
Somehow a difference of 100 ft. in where we drove and parked made a big difference, and we were okay to walk down the road to the orphanage, but told not to breathe in what the helicopter dropped if it passed again. Reassuring, really.
We arrived to find Denny sitting on a big rocking fish in the large playroom, and I scooped him up immediately. He definitely remembered us from the day before. We were asked to move to the next room, which was much smaller, but we were able to focus solely on Denny. We had little room to move, but we walked back and forth down a small hall that was part of this room connecting to the large playroom. He was uninterested in the toys, unless one was in your hand, then he was interested long enough to toss it aside and take your hand.
After about an hour in the small room, the six or so other littles came filing out with the caretakers, and we were able to go in and work with Denny with a little more elbow room. His physical therapist came in again, and we started with our questions while she showed us that she can't get him to walk down the therapy stairs, because he doesn't realize that he needs to bend one knee while stepping down with the other.
This became my goal for our time with Denny. As much as I just wanted to sit and snuggle with this little guy, he's really ready to be mobile, and I had five hours (over the last 3 visits) left to work with him. I was determined to get him to walk down the stairs before our visits were over. Going up was no big deal, but he stood, stuck at the edge of the stairs going down. He was eating up the praise, at least!
The therapist moved Denny to the ball pit, and that morning, he just did not want to be there. He quickly got frustrated, and began to cry. Immediately I had him back in my arms, but he went from frustrated to inconsolable very quickly. A glance at the clock showed that he was right at lunch and naptime, so we needed to leave. I hated to leave him crying, but knew he was with the one woman who shows him love, so it made it easier.
We walked back to the car by way of a trail on the back of the orphanage that lead down to the other road. We saw old orchards and gardens, with rusted gates leading in, but no home remained. We saw old cars and beautiful views. My love for this country grew by the day.
Somehow a difference of 100 ft. in where we drove and parked made a big difference, and we were okay to walk down the road to the orphanage, but told not to breathe in what the helicopter dropped if it passed again. Reassuring, really.
We arrived to find Denny sitting on a big rocking fish in the large playroom, and I scooped him up immediately. He definitely remembered us from the day before. We were asked to move to the next room, which was much smaller, but we were able to focus solely on Denny. We had little room to move, but we walked back and forth down a small hall that was part of this room connecting to the large playroom. He was uninterested in the toys, unless one was in your hand, then he was interested long enough to toss it aside and take your hand.
After about an hour in the small room, the six or so other littles came filing out with the caretakers, and we were able to go in and work with Denny with a little more elbow room. His physical therapist came in again, and we started with our questions while she showed us that she can't get him to walk down the therapy stairs, because he doesn't realize that he needs to bend one knee while stepping down with the other.
This became my goal for our time with Denny. As much as I just wanted to sit and snuggle with this little guy, he's really ready to be mobile, and I had five hours (over the last 3 visits) left to work with him. I was determined to get him to walk down the stairs before our visits were over. Going up was no big deal, but he stood, stuck at the edge of the stairs going down. He was eating up the praise, at least!
The therapist moved Denny to the ball pit, and that morning, he just did not want to be there. He quickly got frustrated, and began to cry. Immediately I had him back in my arms, but he went from frustrated to inconsolable very quickly. A glance at the clock showed that he was right at lunch and naptime, so we needed to leave. I hated to leave him crying, but knew he was with the one woman who shows him love, so it made it easier.
We walked back to the car by way of a trail on the back of the orphanage that lead down to the other road. We saw old orchards and gardens, with rusted gates leading in, but no home remained. We saw old cars and beautiful views. My love for this country grew by the day.
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