One Year!

One year ago today I awoke in one of the most beautiful places on earth. The sun wasn't up but the birds were singing and the air was cool and moist on the shores of Lake Awassa. My stomach was in knots in anticipation of what awaited me on the other side of a six hour drive to Addis Ababa.

In Melissa Fay Greene's new book, No Biking In the House Without a Helmet, she writes:

"I was beside myself with excitement and a kind of stage fright. For the second time in my life I prepared to meet a child who was going to call me Mama. There can be no other demarcation of time, no other "life-cycle event" as significant a crossing-over as this one. Marriage is momentous, but in most of the modern world, brides and grooms stand at the alter beside their beloved. Childbirth is a major event, but it, like marraige, follows a deep prior connection. Now the elderly guard pulled open the gates and I prepared to meet a person who would join, and change, my life permanently."

I have never been as nervous as I was while we waited for those gates to open. I have never wanted so much for someone to like me, nor ever felt so certain that someone would not.

Then they arrived, wearing the cloths we had sent over months before and holding on to sticky sweet caraminas for dear life. When I show these pictures to the boys they ask, "What Mama say?"

They already know the answer but I tell them again how I leaned into the car, looked into their beautiful eyes for the first time and said, "Selam! Attafra. Ishi." (Hello! Don't be afraid. It's ok.)

"Then what Mama say?" 

I tell them, "Lay-ah-zek?" (Can I hold you?) and describe how Dash examined my face intently, then lifted his little arms up to me. All four of their arms are in the air reaching for me before I finish retelling my story.

They were so uncertain and scared but so very, very brave.

How all this came to be, how perfectly these two children fit in this family, is a miracle to me. It has restored my faith in life, love and God to a level I haven't known since I was a child myself.

Happy Family Day, sweet boys! Thank you for changing my life for the better and making me the luckiest and happiest Mama on earth!

Processing

This time of year is now and forever full of powerful memories for our family.

I thought our one year anniversary (this coming Monday) would be all about joy and celebration. On the one hand we are celebrating and have so much to be joyful and grateful for, but in my heart I am also still processing so much, and in reality I am trying to help my children process the profoundness of their past.

For example:

A few days ago at breakfast I said, "One year ago today we were on a plane to Ethiopia to meet you guys!"

We looked at pictures and talked about our story as a family and their stories as individuals, which are neck and neck with "Curious George and the Dump Truck" for favorite stories of all time.

Taye told me that he was "a little scared" the day we met, and he wanted to know why Dash had a caramina (lollipop) in the picture but he did not have one (his caramina was hidden behind Mark's back).

Dash said he wasn't scared that day.

"I not scared, Mommy!"

 But then he said, "Mommy, I no go Efeeopia. DashandTaye stay MommyDaddy. OK?"

I have written about this before. He has said this many times this year. All I can do is tell him again that our family is permanent and hope that some day he really believes it.

Yesterday at breakfast we talked about how the boys will start school soon. All year we have talked about school, teachers, what they will learn, the friends that they will make...we have made a big deal about it. Not too long ago, maybe two or three months back, Taye figured out that school meant being away from Mommy and Daddy and he decided that he did not want to go to school. We didn't think it was time yet either so we backed off. Now he feels differently and we had an excited conversation about the kids, the teacher, art projects, letters and numbers...then the conversation took a new direction.

Me: "So Mommy and Daddy will bring you to school and you will stay there without Mommy and Daddy like you did when you stayed with Honey and Doc (their grandparents), and then we will come get you and you will come home for lunch."

Taye: "Toys there?"

Me: "Yes, there will be toys there and other kids and a really nice teacher who will take care of you until Mommy and Daddy come get you."

Taye: "Like Efeeopia? Like Gladney?"

Mark and I tried not to look at each other. We were both thinking, "Holy Crap!"

Me: "Yes, it will be a little like when you lived in Ethiopia at the Gladney Care Center, except this time you will have breakfast with Mommy and Daddy, then go to school for just a little while, then come home for lunch, dinner and sleep with Mommy and Daddy. You'll make lots of friends there and it will be fun, but you will always come home to be with Mommy and Daddy."

Then...

Taye: "Like Halchitu?"

Halchitu is their birthmother.

Me: "Like Halchitu? What do you mean, Sweetie?"

Taye: "Like Halchitu goodbye?"

Last May we met and said goodbye to Halchitu. I don't know how concrete the boys' memories are of her prior to that day, but the memories of that day are sad, confusing and complicated for our children.

Me: "Well..." buying myself a little time while I choke down a bunch of emotions, "We will say goodbye but only for a little while. Remember when you stayed with Honey and Doc and Mommy and Daddy came back in a few hours? Well, it will be a lot like that. We will say goodbye after breakfast but we will come get you before lunch, so we won't be sad like when we had to say goodbye to Halchitu. Mommy and Daddy will always come get you. School is just something you will do for a little while during the day and then you'll come home."

Taye: "Yeah! DashTaye go school. Like Mommy go work. DashTaye go WORK!"

Dash stared down at his breakfast and offered not a word during this exchange, but was back in the game once the conversation returned to quoting movie lines from Cars and demanding more fruit for their oatmeal.

How can a person read about conversations like this for three years and then feel completely inadequate and unprepared when it finally happens at your own breakfast table?

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Melkam Fasika!

Ten Months Home - Full to the Brim

“In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.” ~Mother Teresa

There are still lots of small and big things happening around here but I struggle to find the time to write about them...or maybe it's that I'm just not sure where to take this blog. Writing about "the wait" and even writing about our transition was easier than writing about day to day life for me.

Life has also been rather full lately—too full to step back and do any meaningful reflection or follow along with my favorite bloggers for inspiration and camaraderie. I miss that—if anyone is still reading, I miss you!

As you may have gathered from my last post, my mother-in-law is struggling with a serious illness. She is doing better but she could use your thoughts and prayers if you are so inclined.

Also in the category of "big stuff"—my sister gave birth to her first child a few weeks ago. This tiny little person has brought us so much joy.

Her arrival has also continued to spur conversations about babies in tummies, birth mothers and adoptive mothers, and daily requests for “Mommy, please Kangaroo pouch”.

Work has been exceedingly, insanely busy. The boys miss me and I miss them but we are surviving it and my husband gets credit for that. Things should slow down by the end of May and then we’ll have more time over the summer. Oh hooray for summer! The ability to be outside for long stretches cannot come soon enough!

The boys continue to amaze me. I am no longer concerned about their agility or speech or growth. They are talking up a storm—full sentences and adorable use of phrases and expressions. In 10 months they went from a 2T to a 3T to a 4T and were bordering on a 5T (in girth anyway!) when suddenly they slimmed down and shot up and are now a 3T again but this time without the cuffed pant legs. Good timing since they now fit perfectly into their warmer weather clothing from last year. Now all we need is the warmer weather...

They keep me laughing and they are huge hams. Most of the pictures I take these days look something like this...

There are little songs with made up lyrics sung in strange voices to go along with those weird facial expressions! Music continues to be a favorite past time.

They have also discovered a passion for fantasy role playing, costumes and forts. Arrrgh, Matey!

We achieved a huge milestone last weekend when Mark and I left the boys for the first time since returning from Ethiopia. It was a four hour soirée complete with shopping and dinner—never mind that we were back by 7:30 and it felt like midnight! We wanted to take this step a couple months ago but emotionally we didn't think they were ready. It's hard to explain but our guts told us it was time and we were right. Thanks to these two for making it such a huge success!

In six weeks we will have been together as a family for a full year—wow! It has been quite a year, full to the brim indeed, and I marvel at the profound perfection of it all. How did I get this lucky?

For My Mother-In-Law

Kiss Me, My Mom's Irish

And what a lucky mom I am!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Bonding and Attachment

The lovely Claudia has challenged us to write about our experience with bonding and attachment. I have written bits and pieces of our experience before, but I am writing again because I think this is such an important topic and it's something I worried a good deal about before deciding to adopt...and still do. In some ways our road to attachment has been exactly what I expected, and in other ways completely unexpected. It has been a challenging road at times but ultimately we have been very lucky and are in a good place as I write this. I believe that sharing these stories, albeit personal and sometimes difficult, will help each other and the families who are on the road to bringing their own kiddos home, so thanks for the inspiration, Claudia. Here's what the road has looked like for us thus far.

The first three days that we knew our boys they were nothing short of perfect. There were no tears. They were affectionate. They made eye contact. They snuggled and giggled and sang us a little song.

"Mommy, Daddy, I love you! Mommy, Daddy, America!"

I remember thinking after they fell sound asleep that first night that maybe the whole attachment and bonding thing with two three-year-olds wasn't going to be as challenging as I had feared.

Then on day three things changed. Our agency hosted a farewell coffee ceremony at the orphanage and I think that was the trigger, although it may have been just the length of time together. That day we met the beautiful women who had cared for our boys for nine months and we got to see first hand that they had been loved and loved in return. It was traumatic for the boys, to say the least, and for us too. One didn't want to be there and the other rejected us in favor of all that was familiar and did not want to leave with us to return to the guest house. They both cried their little hearts out and I did too. It was the first time I had seen their tears and it broke my heart and made me realize how very little I knew about how to parent these children. For the rest of our stay in Ethiopia both boys wanted to be with the Ethiopian women who worked at the guest house more than with us and their rejection hurt. It's what I expected, but in so many ways it was tougher than I ever imagined.

Things remained like this for the first couple months home.  When we had visitors they would revert back to the charming little boys we had known for the first three days, but alone with us they were angry and confused and sad. There was so much crying and yelling that I thought for sure our neighbors were going to call social services. They clung to me like their lives depended on it, but I don't think they liked me very much. I remember telling my mother in July how much I liked it when she came to visit because the boys were so much nicer to me when she was around. The majority of their interactions with each other consisted of fighting for my attention or taking food from each other. There was hitting and spitting and they found and pushed every button of ours that they could find, both literally and figuratively, in an attempt to control a world that they had lost all control over. 

I felt like a huge failure. Not only did I feel like I had no idea what to do most of the time, but it is not easy to like someone who is assaulting you physically and emotionally all day. Still, my heart was one hundred and ten percent committed to meeting their needs as best I could, and so that's what I tried to do. I stuck to a predictable routine. We discussed that routine a hundred times a day. I got food on the table as quickly as I could, and explained again and again that the food was coming, and that there was always going to be enough of it. I tried to be playful and patient--often I failed. We gave them choices at every opportunity to help them feel some sense of control over their worlds. Do you want the pink plate or the black plate? The yellow shirt or the green one? Asking them if they wanted to walk or be carried helped immensely when they didn't want to go where we needed them to go. I lay with them held them in bed every night while they cried and screamed for hours, and around month three when they started calling for me in the middle of the night I began co-sleeping (and still do). I carried them around in the baby carrier at every opportunity. One day in July Dash cried and cried for no apparent reason until I strapped him to my body. It was ninety degrees with a hundred percent humidity but it was the only thing that comforted him so that's how we spent the day. I reread Karyn Purvis and Parenting Your Internationally Adopted Child every night in an attempt to gain some perspective and control over a world that I had lost all control over.

Slowly we started to see changes. They began to relax when it was just the three or four of us alone at home. In month three we introduced time-outs (time-ins, actually) and a sticker chart reward system. While the initial introduction of discipline led to some rebellion, I believe ultimately the added structure helped them feel more secure, and it made our lives much easier. In months four through seven we battened down the hatches and kept social visits to a minimum. It made a difference and we started to feel a new sense of calm settle in. Dash started giving and asking for hugs and kisses many times a day, and Taye hit that stage a couple months later. They stopped competing with each other and started playing together. They stopped needing a hundred percent of my attention a hundred percent of the time and they started showing signs that they were growing to respect and trust and even love us. 

At month nine we are still very much on the journey but there is real love between us now and I believe we are all more secure in that love. Every three months I look back and marvel at how far we have come so I know we aren't "there" yet, where ever "there" might be, but we are lucky--our boys have known the love of a family before so they already knew how to love and attach to us. As I wrote last week, they have finally bonded with my husband, which was a huge step forward. I don't know exactly why it took longer with Mark, but it probably has something to do with only having been cared for by women in the past. I do know that it is not uncommon for a child to have a stronger bond to one parent over the other. My heart goes out to those in this position--the rejection I experienced at the beginning of our life together was by far the hardest part. As I wrote a few days ago--we are fortunate to have hit an ooey-gooey love stage, and it feels great. They talk about being a family, the four of us, and how it makes them happy. They talk about how much they love us, and they tell me that touching my skin makes them feel good. Taye likes me to kiss his eyelids. I don't know why, but I do it as often as he wants.

We still face challenges, but I now recognize that when they are afraid they get big, mischievous grins on their faces, become extremely loud and charming, and exhibit an energy that we used to see all the time, but now only see in unfamiliar environments when they are getting attention from others. Being charming and funny is their coping mechanism. They still want to hug and kiss every adult that glances their way and will crawl into another adult's lap and snuggle up at every opportunity. Because I am not completely secure in my own attachment, these situations are hard for me. The hardest behavior is the fact that they run away from us in public places. I don't know whether to think this is a sign of being secure and independent, or whether it is a sign that they aren't really attached, but it terrifies me! We have yet to leave them alone with anyone but we are planning to take this step soon. Taye figured out the other day that kids ride the school bus without their parents and he wanted me to know that he wants nothing to do with going some place without me, so that might be an indication of how this next step will go. We believe in moving slowly with this step, and we are fortunate that we are able to do so, but we also know at some point we need to do it. We'll see who has a harder time with it, them or me!

I personally believe that bonding and attachment is a life long journey in every relationship regardless of how that relationship came to be. I am grateful that I feel happy with our progress and think that we are in a good place with the worst of it behind us, but I know that this is just the beginning and there will be new challenges up ahead. The only thing I can be certain of is that my heart will always be one hundred and ten percent committed to meeting their needs as best I can!

****

I highly encourage you to head over to Claudia's blog and read the rest of these posts. They provide amazing insight and perspective on this topic.

Nine Months Home - The Simple Things

"In the end, what effects your life most deeply are things too simple to talk about." ~ Nell Blaine

This quote sums up what has happened to my blog lately.

Lots of simple things, none big enough to stop and write about, but all of which add up to big impact.

Things like saying adios to diapers.

And learning how to dress and undress.

Things like the evolution of squiggly lines into something recognizable, like this banjo. If you are a facebook friend you already know about this, but I am so proud I have to show it off again.

I read somewhere that around month eight into the adoption transition, a family typically hits the ooey-gooey-love stage of their bonding and attachment. I read this at month five and thought, "Oh, no, we have achieved that stage already". I was wrong. Month eight was much ooey-gooier.

Clinginess has tapered off. Them and me.

Their bond with Mark has taken off, and I have to take a moment to honor my husband for being the man that he is. Not many, me included, could have weathered the months of rejection he suffered with as much grace. Now when Mark leaves, they notice and miss him. There are no longer tears and demands for Mommy when he puts them to bed or brushes their teeth. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy" is heard almost as often as "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" when they want to show off something they're proud of and the phrase, "Daddy do it!" has made a welcome appearance.

Their circle of love has opened up to include the dogs. Remind me to write more about that transition some day...it was a doozey.

Unfortunately their circle of love still includes random admiring strangers at the grocery store and the cable repair man, who was grabbed by the legs and kissed repeatedly last week. We thought we had this under control but lately it has been as prominent as it was in the beginning. Helping them understand appropriate boundaries without squelching their gregarious and charming personalities is a tough one for me. I've just set up some time with an adoption social worker to talk about it but if anyone has any advice or experience with this I am all ears...er...eyes.

We have spent precious time with family and friends and of course their endearing affections are welcome in this setting.

Their love for us and ours for them is expressed daily in ways big and small. They definitely know that we are a family and I believe they are more secure in its perminence.

We had our follow-up visit with the developmental team at the Yale Adoption Clinic a couple weeks ago and they think the boys are doing great. They are behind in language, as one would expect given that they have only been speaking it 9 months, but they are solidly on target cognitively. They still get overstimulated easily and at those times we have challenges with hyperactivity and determined behavior. My kids are so charming that even this comes off as adorable but it makes it hard for us to go certain places without both of us present. They told us that this is commonly seen in children from backgrounds such as theirs and that over time they should learn to "self regulate", just like they have learned to do so with us in more familiar settings. Who knows. Maybe this is just three and a half year old twin boy stuff. Whatever it is, we'll get there. I hope it's by the summer because we joined a beach club with a pool and I want to spend lots of time with them there without having my heart in my throat!

We are all excitedly awaiting the arrival of a new niece or nephew/cousin and that anticipation has inspired conversations about mothers, babies in tummies, and why we can't Skype with the people we love in Ethiopia.

And speaking of Ethiopia--we miss it. I expected that from the boys. I have been surprised by how much Mark and I miss it, too.

The boys have gained enough language and attention span to enjoy watching TV. I never thought I would be the kind of mom who plopped her kids down in front of the TV, but the opportunity it has given me to speak to my husband, semi-uninterrupted, has been magical.

The other night the boys started chanting "Mommy, Daddy, saaaaved you" over and over again. When we asked them where they heard that--because they certainly didn't hear it from us and they aren't in any activities away from us yet--they said the names of their care givers in Ethiopia. Oh boy. Who knows where they learned it but they have it backwards.

It is undoubtedly they who have saved us...