"I'm sorry."

Sometimes, a story just needs told.

The first day that we had Ivan in our physical custody was crazy and emotional and draining for everyone involved. We had a long ride in the car, a changing of clothes in a public bathroom because I misjudged the absorbency of Bulgarian diapers, a very public very dramatic very scary meltdown of truly epic proportions, a scrambled mess of dinner, a screaming shower, and hours of screaming, rocking and thrashing at bedtime.

It was a magical, awesome, horrific day.

That night, amid the hours of screaming, rocking, and thrashing, I held Ivan. I held him facing me, chest pressed to mine, and wrapped my arms around him and rocked with him and cried with him. We were all exhausted. We were all emotional and, to be brutally honest, we were all scared.

I remember talking to him. Mostly, it was just me saying anything to try and comfort him. I used the three Bulgarian words I knew and mixed them with every English word I know trying to calm us both. I can't remember anything I said that night except one thought:

I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry it took us so long to come and get you and I'm sorry we needed to come at all.

Even now, months later, I can't think of a better way to sum up how I feel about Ivan's time spent as an orphan. 

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry he spent nearly 5 years as an orphan in an orphanage. I'm sorry he was 3 before we found him. I'm sorry he was almost 5 before we could get him home. I hate it that we were so slow getting to him.

And I'm sorry we even needed to come. I'm sorry he was left to be raised at the orphanage. I'm sorry the doctor's misdiagnosed him. That may have tipped the decision to abandon him. It definitely influenced his treatment in the orphanage.  I'm sorry his birth family couldn't raise him in his own culture and I'll never know why they made that choice.

All those things that are completely out of my control. 

A Field Trip to a Farm

Eight months home. Two months in school.
Ivan's school had a field trip today to a local farm. The farm is set up to be a field trip destination for school groups so everything about it is perfectly catered to children. The grounds are clean and mostly flat and well manicured. The play equipment is sensory heaven. And it's all outside, there are animals on the premises, and it somehow doesn't smell like poop.
I wanted to attend just to have the experience of playing at the farm with Ivan for his first trip outside the school grounds. I wanted to see him with his school friends and teachers and aides. I wanted to watch him with the people he knows that I don't know. And honestly, I'm just greedy like that and wanted to be able to watch him enjoy the event. I like seeing my kid smile, what can I say?

Since Ivan's been home, I've been fairly strict about providing for his needs myself. I make sure I give him food. I make sure I hug him and love on him when he's needing it. I make sure I'm helping him up the steps or down the ladder or putting his shoes on. It's me. I do it. So when Ivan started school, I had to let go of an awful lot of control over where his needs were being met, and how, and by whom. But it was a removed lack of control. He was away from home, I obviously couldn't meet his needs, the teachers and aides could and let me tell you- out of sight; out of mind.

But today at the event, I was able to watch Ivan interact with his peer group. His honest peer group. Children he attends school with and feels comfortable with and who move at his pace.

I watched him jump amid a crowd of children, laughing, reaching out and touching them as they hopped past him just because he was so happy he wanted to share the moment even for just a second through physical contact. I watched a little boy bounce near him and when Ivan sat down, the boy sat beside him, and IVAN LOOKED OVER AT HIM AND MADE EYE CONTACT and then the boy reached out and touched Ivan's leg and Ivan STAYED STILL AND LET HIM.

It was precious and such a tiny moment but monumental at the same time.

I watched as one of the aides helped him up onto the bouncy thing (it was a bounce pillow?). She held him at first, climbing to the peak height of it, then bounced with him in her arms. He laughed with his entire body. When he laughs, it's joyful:  his knees pull up to his chest, his elbows tuck down to his hips and his back twists into violent S's as laughter erupts from his every pore.

She set him onto his feet and held his hands, bouncing with him, and he laughed.  He caught the perfect bounce off another person just once, tossing himself nearly his entire height into the air and I gasped as the aide with him doubled over in laughter. "You were flying!" she said and he started to fall to his bottom and bounce back to his feet.

Ivan will take off running, just to feel himself run. Just because he can. Just because he's got legs. He doesn't care where he's going or who is with him or how loudly I'm yelling his name, once he's going, he's gone.
I just let him run today. The place was packed with students from at least 3 different schools but there were open fields and it was all fenced in and the sun was shining and the breeze was blowing and I would stroll along behind him as he shot in whatever direction took his fancy. He wound up about 50 yards ahead of me at one point and I wasn't even concerned.

He went down this slide that was like 30 yards long. He had to climb three flights of stairs to get to the top. Once up there, I asked him, "Are you sure you want to slide down this?" and he plopped himself down and tossed his feet into the slide. I asked one of the teens in line with us if she minded sliding down with him ( the slide was a tunnel and I don't do enclosed spaces) so he slid and came out laughing, full bodied, twisty laughs and it was great.

I watched another aide put his shoes on after he was done jumping, once. I watched a teen help him onto the tire swing with a few other kids and gently push them.

I did an awful lot of standing back and watching.

And it was nice.

This evening, I was telling a friend about the trip and I told her:

I felt safe.

And it was something I hadn't realized until the moment I said it aloud. But I had. I had felt safe watching Ivan interact with his peers, teachers, and aides. I had felt safe letting other people do things for him that just two months ago I would have demanded of myself to do myself.

It sounds so small but I've been wiping away tears since it hit me.

I had gotten so used to constantly crisis parenting, always being afraid, setting such high expectations of myself that I'd forgotten that it isn't normal to feel that way or to live that way.

It's normal to feel safe.
It's normal to feel safe within your relationship with your child.
It's normal to feel safe watching your child interact with trusted adults.
It's normal to feel safe while letting your child play.

It is
normal
to
feel safe.

It's amazing the things you learn on a field trip to a farm.

The Big Announcement!

We meant to wait a while, until we were further along into the process, but we got eager and excited to share with our friends and family.

We're expecting a child to enter our family next summer!! That's right!
We've started the adoption process again!

We have placed a specific child on hold. A young girl. She is ten and has lived her life in an orphanage.

We have made this choice with careful consideration.

We are as informed as we can be at this point in the process.

We will not be sharing her photos or any information on facebook or on this blog until the adoption is complete. We maintained this respect for privacy during Ivan's adoption and I feel we should do this again. If you'd like to message us directly, we will gladly share our joy with you!

We are thankful for your continued support.

Off we go!

Time Flies

You know that old saying?
"Time flies when you're having fun!"
Well, Time flies, no matter what.

It's been months since I've updated here and I feel sad about it. So many things have happened that I don't have documented.

At 12 weeks home, we had an emergency placement join our household, and let me tell you that shook us all up. Ivan didn't know what to think about this little guy who was needier than him! Sharing Momma? OH NO! And Little Guy definitely needed attention. Just as the kids were starting to get settled having him around, it was time for him to move on to his forever family. He was in our home for 8 weeks.

See, having Little Guy come along when he did thew us for a royal loop. We were still in survival mode with Ivan, Magda had just started pre-k (in a miraculous moment of pure luck), and Mordecai was struggling with losing his sister for a large chunk of every day. Little Guy came in with more severe needs than Ivan. More severe behaviour than Ivan. More emotional trauma than Ivan. He demanded time, attention, care, love.  All of us learned a very necessary lesson in compassion, patience, and perseverance. 

I also was forced to take a step back and reassess my own expectations and stresses with Ivan. Watching Little Guy struggle as hard as he was broke my heart but it also reminded me that Ivan wasn't struggling in that way any longer. We had gotten past the hour long screaming fits. We had gotten past a lot of the really nonsensical behavior and I hadn't even realized it. I was pushing so hard to get him to be "Normal" that I'd forgotten that he WAS being normal. Absolutely normal for what was happening in his life at that moment. 

Once Little Guy moved on, we dealt with some real fears that cropped up in Ivan that we didn't not expect. Ivan was aware of what was going on when Little Guy was leaving and he became afraid that we were going to make him leave, too! It broke my heart. I tried explaining to him, but with his comprehension, I never know how much he takes in from what I say. But I know he knew what was happening that day and he was afraid that he would be forced to leave too.

After Little Guy left, Charlie and I had a serious discussion about services for Ivan. We had delayed starting services for one reason or another through the summer and as the beginning of school approached, we had to consider enrolling him. We had him evaluated by the child development department and he qualified to attend the Specialized Education School in our area. It's an amazing opportunity. We decided to enroll him.

I had so many fears that he might be afraid because of the institutional setting. I was afraid he would think I was leaving him at another orphanage. I was afraid he would be scared or angry and I wouldn't be there for him. 

He handled it better than I did, to be perfectly honest. If Mordecai hadn't have been with me the morning I drove Ivan to school to start class, I would have cried in the parking lot. 

Ivan has been home for 8 months now. He's been in school for a month.

He has started wanting to feed himself with a spoon or fork. He has started preferring to drink from a cup and is getting better at managing a straw. He has just recently starting actually using the potty when I set him on it. (!!!!) He is still using a limited number of signs for expression. He has randomly said actual words, appropriately and in context, just when the whim hits him.

"All done."

"Snack."

He is more aware and present lately. He has started playing with toys. He is more adventurous when playing outside. He can maneuver the playground completely on his own. Swinging. Climbing, Jumping on the trampoline. Running through the grass. Pushing himself down the slide. 

He laughs. He makes eye contact now much more frequently and in a more relaxed way. He is just starting to try and interact with his siblings. Mordecai is really blossoming in building a relationship with Ivan and Ivan is beginning to respond to him and play back, in his own way.

I was afraid. I was so afraid during the adoption process.  "What are we doing to our family? What are we doing to Magda and Mordecai? Am I ruining everything? What if Ivan hates us? What if we can't handle him? Oh, God, What if he NEVER learns any new skills?"

I was afraid after we met him. "What if he doesn't bond? What if he never learns English?"

I was afraid when we first brought him home. "What if we don't survive this? What have I done? What if he never heals from this huge upheaval? What if our family never finds a new normal? Oh, no! What if this horror is our new normal?

Now, I'm not so afraid. 

Now, I think we're finding a new normal that is feeling more comfortable. More relaxed. More happy. 

They tell you, in adoption, eventually your family won't be in survival mode. Eventually, you won't be crisis parenting. When you first get home, you don't believe these things.

But it's true. Eventually, things feel good. Eventually, you don't even think about the fact that the child is adopted. Eventually, you don't worry if a behaviour is orphanage related. Eventually, it's just your kid. Eventually, it's just your family.

Eventually, it's okay.

Eleven weeks

"Do you feel bonded to him? On a scale of one to ten. One being not at all and ten being like a birth child." The lady at the clinic asks and I'm stuck for a moment because I'm unsure of the correct definition of the word 'bonded'. Then I'm mentally checking little boxes off a list, things we've done, ways we've grown close, and I'm wondering if there are more marked off the list than are left on it. Checking the recesses of my heart, what do I feel toward this child that I've known less than half a year?
I end up saying, Yes, I feel bonded. Possibly at nine, maybe even ten. I end up saying, I definitely feel committed to him. I say, I feel like we have a nice foundation to begin building a real relationship on.

In just this last week, Ivan has began relaxing into our relationship. He has started showing trust in ways he had not before. He's allowing me to rock him to sleep on occasion, which is a huge step in trusting for him, as he is very reliant and controlling of his bed time stimming ritual. With him allowing me to rock him, it also allows for much more snugly, fulfilling, loving time.  He will relax into my arms, resting his head against my chest or on my shoulder. This is an amazing difference from the needy, empty wallering for outside stimulation kind of 'loving' that was all that he offered when we first met him and is still more often prone to do.

He will now offer to the sign "all done" every time I ask him to, unless, of course, he is NOT finished with an activity. (Which is awesome!) He's figuring out that the Signs carry meaning and weight. He's learning to use the sign as a communication tool. I've began to add back in a few more signs. Eat. More. Swing. Change. These are all signs that I puppet him through before we do each activity. He has to tell me the sign before these things happen. He now will offer his hands to me and willingly allow me to puppet him through the sign where before he would fight away.

He has even been given a choice between signing "All Done" and "More" and made the choice himself which sign to use. THIS is the groundwork for communication.  This is him learning that I care about what he wants and I want to teach him how to express it.

I've started using every sign I know when I speak with him. I've also started speaking a little louder. When we had his hearing tested, they said he may actually have some slight hearing loss. My speaking quietly and calmly to him may have been all a wasted effort.

Ivan has started being very aware and very present in the world around him.  Where before he seemed utterly uninterested in whatever may be going on around him, now he has begun to react to his surroundings. He is interested  and exploring and discovering and becoming a part of the world around himself and he is beginning to show proper emotional responses to these experiences.
He laughs when he is swinging.
He watches when his siblings swing along side him and he will track them forward and back behind him even as he is swinging and he will smile.
He startles when the swing moves in an unexpected way.
When Mordecai pulled the wagon over the concrete, Ivan ran to me, crawling up into my lap, looking for safety.

I'll repeat that line.

When Ivan got scared, he ran to me looking for safety.
The moment he did that, I knew he had become completely tuned in to the world that he is living in and that he is aware that Mommy=Safe. We immediately looked up the sign for "safe". (If you're interested, it looks a lot like when the umpire at a baseball game calls the runner 'safe' at the plate.)

Because Ivan doesn't have his own words, I need to give them to him. This means that I might sound really strange because I've started telling him social stories from his point of view when something happens to him.
When Mordecai pulled the wagon and Ivan ran to me, I dove into a social story:
"Mordecai was pulling that wagon. It was loud and I felt scared. I came to Mommy where I feel safe."
Today at church I was able to watch him slide out of a swing before he was ready for it to happen. He fell right to his little bottom then got up and ran to me. I scooped him up saying, "I fell out of my swing. I felt scared and hurt. I came to Mommy where I feel safe."
So if you overhear me talking to Ivan and I don't make sense, well, it might be a situation like this. (Or it might just be me talking, there's really no telling.)

We are building trust. We are building a relationship. We are growing love.
I know I'm not doing everything right. I know.
This is all hard and there are days where I'm not doing any of it at all correctly but we're trying.
I can't wait till we get him therapy.

Rose ain't my tint.

I feel like my last post was a touch too...rose tinted.

So here's some of the ugly underbelly of our daily lives 9 weeks home.
As I learn Ivan and his little quirks, I've been slowly addressing them. This means that the little tricks that he used in the orphanage to be able to do whatever he wanted are being taken from him in ways that leave him utterly pissed off.  Momma has high expectations and Momma has nothing else to do with her day but make sure you try and meet them. *shrugs* SO when he pulls his trick of "I can't hear you/ I'm weird and just don't respond to commands or my name sometimes because of selective hearing loss and there's half a chance you'll just leave me here to keep doing whatever I want instead of coming to get me so It's worth the try." and I know he hears me and understands me and I demand that he respond to me and follow the directions I'm giving him without me coming to get him. Well. That just leaves him a tantruming mess sometimes.
He's been home long enough that, even though we use safety gates to keep him out of certain rooms, he is very aware that even if the gate is accidentally left open- He's not supposed to be in that room. SO when I get him down from the table and he sees the gate to my bedroom is open and he hightails it to that room and I verbally remind him "Don't go in that room!" and he still makes a run for the open door and I use the harshest voice I have in my arsenal to stop him dead in his tracks saying "I know you understand me! Do NOT go in that room!" and he wanders out like I just kicked his new puppy and Charlie is giving me this look and asking "What's your problem?" and I snap back to him "My problem is that he knows he isn't supposed to go in there but he plays dumb to keep from having anyone expect him to follow the rules! Well, I expect him to follow them!"
I've caught on to his little trick of squirreling food into his cheeks so that he can get out of eating anything else of the meal by "waiting out" the staff and then he is released from the table and wanders around then lets the food packed into his cheeks just fall out somewhere. Hence not eating a sticking bite of the meal. Which doesn't fly here. I've started not letting him cheek food and when he does, I won't let him down from the table until he chews it and swallows it. I told him once, "This isn't the orphanage, sweet cheeks. There's no time limit here. You can sit at that table for the next four hours. I got nothing to do today but watch you chew!"
He doesn't like it.
He still will pick up trash and random crap from the floor/ ground and put THAT in his mouth and chew THAT and swallow THAT without issue and quite gleefully even. *hard glare* Funny how he just can't manage to work his tongue to spit CHEWED UP ACORN out of his mouth but he can cheek roast beef for an hour and somehow I find it on the living room floor like ..... So now I have started expecting him to spit that trash back out instead of me scooping it out of his mouth. He REALLY hates that. I've also started being VERY on top of watching his hands while he has the freedom to get around. If he even LOOKS like he is picking up and object and thinking about eating it I'll remind him, "NOT IN YOUR MOUTH." and he gives me this hard side eye where I imagine he is cussing me nine ways from Sunday.
We are also working on this totally awesome habit that Ivan has of stuffing his hands into his diaper and, oh, you know, playing with whatever he might find in there.
yeah.
That's why we've started putting him almost exclusively in onsies with pants or jumper outfits. I'm seriously considering bike shorts or tight leggings to go on under onsies during the summer because it gets too hot here for that child to be in pants all the time. (I've also seriously considered gymnastic leotards, the tight ankle-to-wrist full bodied kind. Yes. I have.)
We also have good days and bad days. There are days that Ivan is super present and in the moment and those days are wonderful. There are other days where Ivan tries to pull every trick he has to seem like he's living on another planet so that he can get out of doing what he is supposed to be doing. There are days that we go out to the play ground and he is all over the ladder and slide and swings and trampoline. There are days where we go out and all he does is stare at a tree and stim for an hour. It's really a toss up sometimes.

But I can't fight every battle. I can't. If I fought every single battle that comes up with this kid, we'd have zero time for anything else and there would be absolutely NO opportunity for bonding. We would have no positive experiences. So I try to side step some of the battles. I choose the ones that are just inescapable and MUST be fought and the others... Well.

Sometimes we spend three hours outside with him staring at a tree and stimming.

I get overwhelmed. There are times through out our day that I have to put Ivan in the play pen, where he is safe and there are toys to entertain him, and I have to just walk away. I have to go into a different room and I have to take very deep breaths. For a long time. I have to remind myself that this is not a war. I have to remind myself that I don't have to fight against his past. I have to remind myself that HE has no idea and that suddenly having someone have standards and expectations for him is WILD for him. I have to take a deep breath and remind myself that we have the rest of his life. He won't be 30 and eating acorns still. (Or, you know, if he is still eating acorns by that point... they've a source of protein, right?)

All my coping mechanisms that I used to get myself through the adoption process? I can't really use them now because I don't have time to sit down and watch an episode of some crap TV show every time I feel overwhelmed or frustrated. I would need a port installed and have it mainlined into my system 24 hours a day. I don't have the ability to pay attention to a book enough to find relief there. And there's absolutely no way I can write. I can't concentrate long enough to do anything really refreshing.

I just do the best I can. I'm going on almost 3 months solid that I've spent 24 hours a day, 7 days a week at this with only about 4 hours spent away from Ivan. I take my breaks where I can get them, five minutes at a time scattered through out the day, and If I use that five minutes to laugh about some stupid TV show, well, at least I'm laughing.

9 Weeks

We are nearing 9 weeks home and the changes that are coming over our family still are staggering.

Ivan continues to surprise us daily. He is still reluctant to hold items that are too big to fit into his mouth and feed himself bites from them BUT he does it anyway, on occasion. Every single time I witness it, I punch the air and silently yell "YES!"
He is beginning to do things that are adorable and the building blocks for shared communication. A week or so ago, he started blowing kisses (with minimal prompting and assistance). Then he began randomly giving kisses. Sometimes it is a big slobbery open mouthed kiss that is similar to one given by an 8 month old baby. Sometimes it is a sweet little kiss where he manages to pucker his little lips together and press them flat against mine. Sometimes he just licks my face. *shrugs* Sometimes, although rarely, he will make the "mmmmmmwah" sound during the kiss. It is precious and I cherish those even more. I praise him and thank him for the kisses every single time.
He randomly offers hugs as well. He's beginning to offer hugs that feel real. They do not feel like empty interaction and it is glorious.
He is making eye contact, unprompted, more and more frequently. It is playful and fleeting but it is happening.
He has become SO confident which, in turn, has shown us how very curious he is. He is confident to wander the house and explore now. He is comfortable being in a different room than the room I am in.  He will wander into the bedrooms to play while I stay in the living room. This doesn't sound like much but it is a huge difference from the child we first brought home who needed to be right by my side every moment of the day (if he wasn't strapped to my chest, that is). It shows how comfortable and confident he has become in our home environment.
Yesterday, I was cleaning the kid's rooms and I was moving from room to room, stepping around Ivan as I moved toys from one room to the other, and he never once followed me around the house. He was able to maintain playing with the bowl he was tapping without being distracted by my activity around him. He was able to play without focusing on "Where's Mom?" It was really a big deal.
He has started trying to do the sign for "All done" when I demand it (which is at the end of every single activity we do through out the day, I'm such a fuddy duddy and so insistant) and he is beginning to do it with less and less prompting and assistance. Where I spent weeks puppeting his hands through the motions, now I can say to him "Say 'all done'!" and he will offer his arms to me. I hold his elbows to steady his arms and he does the movement with his hands himself. He is fully capable of doing the sign completely on his own, just as he is capable of blowing kisses all on his own but he INSISTS on having me hold his elbow before he will do it.
I don't get it but I'll do it. Maybe 3 weeks from now, He won't even need that.

He is generally a happy child. He runs through the house jumping, laughing, and making various sounds. He climbs onto the couch and bounces, rocks, sways. He laughs, randomly, to himself. He discovered the air vents in the floor one day and spent a considerable amount of time with his face pressed against one, peering down through the slats and feeling the air blow against his face and laughing.
He plays on his own in a way that actually resembles "play" now instead of being solid stimming. It is still stim-like in that there is stim-like movements of bouncing, rocking, swaying, jumping, flapping, swatting, flailing but he does these movements in a way that interacts with his environment. He will sit in Charlie's recliner and sway and rock and flail to cause the chair to rock back and forward.
I've caught him trying tasks on his own as well. Sitting and trying to slide his feet into his shoes on his own. Trying to climb into the stroller on his own. Trying to PUSH the stroller on his own. Picking up the clothes hamper and trying to put it over his head on his own.  (It's a game we play, don't judge.)
I've caught him trying to interact with Magda and Mork, unprompted and unassisted. I've seen him approach them, showing interest in a toy they are holding and reach out and touch the toy. I've seen him pet Magda's hair. I've seen him sit on Mork's back while Mordecai was laying on the couch and they stayed that way, happily, for a long while.
I've caught Ivan and Mork in games of mimic and back and forth, especially if it's bedtime and they're neither one ready to sleep.
He is interested in toys and how they work, what they do, sounds they make, how they feel, how they taste. He is actually playing with toys the way they are made to be played with. Of course, they are toys made for 6-18 months but I figure that's about where he's functioning.
I firmly believe Ivan understands the majority of what we say to him. If he isn't understanding English, the child is much more clever than anyone has thought because, without understanding spoken word, he is able to read body language and situational cues to figure out what we want him to do.
(I'm an adult that knows English and sometimes I can't pick up on body language or situational cues enough to figure out what's going on, let's be real, y'all.)

Last week, in a surprise turn of events, Magda started Pre-K and the change in schedule has really thrown us all for a loop. However, the change up of Mork only having Ivan to play with in the Mornings has made for some uncharacteristically quiet mornings here. Mork, when left to play on his own, is generally quiet.
We've found that Ivan is much quieter, as well. With less excitement, and as he settles in more, there is less creaking (from grinding his teeth) and less chirping (a stim vocalization he picked up once home) and more baby like babbling.
Pre-K is challenging Magda gently but it is forcing her to be away from home in an environment that she isn't familiar with. She seems to be settling in well, though. She is a little more clingy at bedtime.
Mork has been more clingy during the morning while Magda is away at school. He misses her but he is learning to play on his own and he is also learning how to play with Ivan. It is cute watching them learn each other.
I am still exhausted at the end of the day. We've cut down on nap time to the point that Ivan doesn't nap at all most days. However, he's started sleeping MUCH better at night, sometimes up to 11 or 12 hours. I've found a herbal sleep aid that I've been giving him for about a week now. We went from almost 3 hours of stimming fighting sleep until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep to about fifteen mins of quiet restful chatter before he falls into silence without any stimming.
It is beautiful and makes our evenings and bedtimes much less stressful for everyone.

We are looking forward to our appointment with the International Adoption Clinic in the city. It's a few weeks away still but we are hoping to learn exactly where Ivan is developmentally as well as hopefully having an official diagnosis and maybe even the beginnings of therapy. (Please?!)

Also, We received  Ivan's Certificate of Citizenship in the mail yesterday. Now we get his SSN and then we can have him assessed by the school system for therapies, as well.
I'm excited.
(No, Really. I'm SO VERY ACTUALLY NOT SARCASTICALLY EAGER TO START THERAPY.)

6 weeks

Ivan is changing dramatically on a daily basis.
The child we are interacting with NOW is a very different child than the one we visited 6 months ago and even different from the one we brought home 2 months ago.

We brought home a child who was (rightfully and understandably) terrified, lacking gross motor skill, had no confidence, no drive, no sense of exploration, no real connection with  or interest in the world around him, did not make eye contact, spent the majority of his time in self stimulation activities and made absolutely zero effort to have meaningful communication outside of physical cues (i.e. grabbing my hands and pulling them towards his chest in a gesture that is him telling me 'I want you to move me').

Today, I watched as Ivan mimicked me (something the orphanage staff told us that he had never done and could not do).

At one point, I scooped Ivan up and had him on my hip. I reached above our heads and tapped on the floating car that is part of the play area and said "Look, Ivan." He instantly looked up towards the tapping sound and immediately reached up, tapping on the car himself, then he laughed.

Through out the day he has willingly and happily offered and sought out eye contact. And not only with me but with my Niece, as well. I watched as he ran excitedly with the other kids toward the Bubble Machine toy that produced a surreal experience in our yard where Ivan was holding his hands out and touching bubbles as an immense cloud of them floated around him.  I had to continually move the toy because he wanted to get his face right up inside it to see HOW it was making the bubbles.  He wanted to feel the fan blowing. He wanted to taste the bubbles.

HE HELD A PIECE OF TOAST IN HIS HANDS AND PUT IT BETWEEN HIS TEETH BY HIMSELF AND TOOK A BITE AND PUT THE REST OF THE TOAST BACK ON THE TABLE WHILE HE CHEWED THE BITE.

no Y'all don't get it.
He took a bite. Of toast. That was too big to all fit into his mouth at once. He held the toast himself and made the measured choice to take a bite off. Then he sat the remainder of the toast on the table.

!!!!!!
It doesn't sound big but i promise you that it is monumental. Like, Mount Rushmore, monumental.

He has learned to turn his sippy cup BY HIMSELF to orient the spout to where it lines up with his mouth.

Another action that doesn't sound like much but IT IS HUGE.

He climbs into his own chair at the table for meals.

He is climbing the ladder up the play set and going down the slide on his own, without any kind of prompting or assistance, regularly now.

He is sitting in a "big kid" swing, holding the chains and keeping his balance.

He is understanding near everything I say.


And here's the big one. The BIG one.

When I was changing his diaper today, I played a game with him where I lifted his shirt and blew a raspberry on his belly and it made him laugh. After about 3 times of lifting his shirt, raspberry, and pulling his shirt down I thought we were done and could go back outside but he pulled his shirt up and HE MADE A RASPBERRY SOUND

WITH HIS OWN MOUTH

AT ME

IN CONTEXT OF THE GAME.

*breathe*
The last few days, he has been *almost* blowing kisses when told to. He will *almost* do it on his own.  He gets so close, he recognizes that I am blowing a kiss, he makes the choice to blow one back and then will stop short and wait for me to help him with the motion. BUT HE'S SO CLOSE.

we are /--this--/ close to meaningful interactive communication.

six weeks home.

5 weeks

Ivan has been home five weeks.
We're still in the crazy "This is not real life" stage. However, I think we're past the dramatically emotional 'honeymoon period'.

I was lied to about the honeymoon period, y'all. I was told the honeymoon period would be an unknown amount of time where both the parent and the child would be on their best behaviour while learning about each other and feeling each other out.
THAT honeymoon period lasted approximately 8 hours from pick up from the orphanage for us.
The honeymoon we experienced involved highly emotional rage fits that lasted upwards of half an hour and were happening two or three times a day. Why? No idea. Frustration? Anger? Missing the orphanage? Missing his Baba? Angry with me because I'm the crazy white lady that he can't understand? Tired of the weird food? Generally feeling unsafe because of the drastic changes in his life over the last few weeks?
Maybe. Maybe all of those. Maybe one of them. Maybe something else I haven't thought of. Either way, the child had emotional rage fits, two to three times a day, lasting about a half hour each for at least the first 3 weeks we were home.
The honeymoon that we experienced involved a child who would completely shut down when any kind of expectation was placed upon him. The Honeymoon that we experienced involved a child, entire body writhing in my lap as he physically fought and strained, displaying his emotions the only way he knows how, while clinging to me, his little arms wrapped around my shoulders tight, and screaming until I would hold him tight enough that he finally felt safe.
We were discovering a child who is functioning on the level of a one to two year old toddler.  It was expected but still an adjustment. In many ways, we've embraced his "baby" ways to help with bonding and attachment. He likes the things babies like so it's enjoyable for him if we hold him "like a baby" and play with him "like a baby" and it helps us all bond, like parents do with babies.

In the beginning, Magda and Mordecai ignored him, which was more than I could have asked for. While Ivan was SO VERY emotionally unstable and terrified, it was handy that he had no interest in them and they had no interest in him. It left us together, so I could be his comfort and constant.

Now, we are beginning to settle in, I think, and I think we are beginning to see more of what Ivan is truly capable of.  He is becoming confident, inquisitive, interactive, mischievous, and we still him more relaxed. As he has become less volatile and more predictable,  Magda and Mordecai have started making efforts to reach out to him and include him.  Magda loves to sing to him and tell him stories. She will include him in imaginative play (even if he seems like he isn't paying attention at all) by giving him a part to play (even though he does not participate at all) and she will continually reaffirm to him during the game that he is included by speaking to him or touching him. She never tries to force him to play in any way other than "his own way" but she still includes him.
Mordecai, being more physical, has been able to bond with Ivan more quickly through physical play. They jump on the trampoline together. They run through the house. Mordecai spent an entire day following Ivan around and mimicking his every movement and vocal tic. He still "talks" with Ivan by echoing Ivan's vocalizations.
Ivan does not seek them out, though. He allows them to play with him when they initiate the play. He interacts sparingly and definitely 'in his own way'.
He seeks out adults but often his interactions are empty . He is looking for a source of external stimulation and really has no preference how this is fulfilled or by whom.  We have had a strict rule that no one is to pick up or hold or allow Ivan to 'waller' on them. They are to direct him to Charlie or Me and let US fulfill that need for him. Recently, he has shown that he understands which adults will turn him down and mostly he will bypass them and come to me or Charlie, instead. However, he will still approach random strangers and try his charm on them. Every adult is an opportunity. Every adult is safe. Every adult exists to serve him. That's how Ivan thinks.  If an adult is holding food, it is for him. If an adult is holding a drink, it is for him. If an adult is standing, it is to pick him up. If an adult is sitting, it is for him to sit in their lap. This thought process applies to ANY and EVERY adult. Are you a complete stranger who happens to be opening a breakfast bar near us? "Oh, That's for me!" Ivan thinks and takes off in your direction because food being opened means he is going to be fed.
 We have to teach him that this is not true. It is a hard truth for him to learn and one that we will be working on for a while.
 We do not anticipate that his life will always be "Don't pick him up. Don't offer him snacks. Don't hug him" because this is a lesson that he will learn in phases. First, we need him to learn that Charlie and I are his primary caregivers and that we are capable and willing to provide everything that he needs. Once he knows this, we can begin working on what is acceptable behavior, acceptable expectations and safe boundaries to have with other adults outside of our home.

There's so much more but i'm actually exhausted. This has been a very busy time for us. It is so amazing and awesome to have Ivan home, finally, but it is also tiring and overwhelming sometimes to have Ivan home, as well. We love him. And I think that he appreciates us, having a family, a home, in his own way.

That's one thing I can promise the entire world about Ivan. He will do things, all things, his own way.

Pick Up (Sometimes known as 'Gotcha')

We've been home with Ivan for one week now.
The trip to get him is hard for me to remember now. I think back and I can hardly recall the travel over to Bulgaria. Of course, some of that has to do with the fact that I overdosed myself on Dramamine and ended up sleeping for the ENTIRE 30 some odd hours that we traveled. Maybe? But I remember landing in Sofia and then riding in this quaint little van for 4 hours to Burgas to his orphanage. Charlie and I both slept for that ride over. We stayed the night, where I don't remember if we slept at all that night. I remember being up very early wondering about breakfast because we didn't eat hardly anything during the travel over. (We discovered during the first trip that airline food doesn't suit either of us very well and the after effects are not worth the risk of eating it.)
That morning we went to the orphanage and sat awkwardly with our translator/attendant waiting while the staff prepared Ivan for us. We met with the orphanage director for about 15 or 20 mins. She was open, kind and seemed happy that Ivan would be leaving with us. She mentioned to us "It will be difficult with him because he is in his own world. It will be hard for you." to which Charlie and I just smiled and nodded. Yes, love. We know. She asked if we had any questioned for her, after she'd given us all his paperwork, and I asked if Ivan had been prepared that we were coming. I asked if anyone had talked with him about the fact that he was going to be leaving with us today. She let us know that the staff HAD been talking with him about Mommy and Daddy and about "going to America" with Mommy and Daddy. I was just relieved that he wasn't about to be absolutely sideswiped by us.
We took clothes for him, but the staff returned them because EVERYTHING was at least 2 sizes too big. I knew our boy was small but once we'd gotten home I had convinced myself that he couldn't have been that little and he must have just seemed smaller. No, no. He's really that small. Everything we took was 3T. He's in 24month/2T clothes.
Finally, They brought him in and he came bounding in, in his way, laughing and smiles and he seemed overjoyed to see us! What a relief! We had fears that he would have forgotten us and would be afraid but he seemed absolutely ecstatic to see us. We bundled him up as best as we could, the director said a little good bye to him where she reminded him he was leaving with Mommy and Daddy to go to America, she wished us luck and we were out the door.
There was a moment of terror when we walked out the front door of the orphanage where Ivan seemed very unsure about what was going on. He became stiff and visibly scared so I scooped him up and carried him to the car. Ever felt like you were stealing a child? I totally felt like we were stealing him. He wasn't a fan of being buckled in to his car seat but once in it, he rode like a champ. I got a thousand photos of his little face and his little self in that little car seat during that long long ride but my favorites are the ones where he had reached out and held my hand, all on his own, and we rode like that for miles.
We had to stop for gas and I took the opportunity to change his diaper, which turned into a full clothing change because he had managed to soak through his diaper. (oops, mom fail already and we'd only had the kid about 2 hours by this point, lol) As I was walking him to the bathroom, I realized that it would be the first time I'd seen him naked.
Talk about weird firsts.
So the first time I saw my child, fully, was in a dirty little gas station bathroom. And he wasn't happy about it at all, because I had to clean him and change him and change his clothes and that wasn't on his agenda for the day at all. Poor thing. He was so excited, overall, though that he seemed to forgive me. We got back in the car with some yogurt cereal stuff and some bread to feed him for lunch as we traveled. He ate everything I put near his face.
He rode so well. He didn't sleep at all. There was too much going on. Too much excitement. He was full throttle Ivan the entire day. When we finally made it to the apartment, he was going great until we left to go get groceries. We walked past a restaurant on the way to the grocery store and he. just. LOST. IT.
It was a full fledged, all out, end of the world tantrum/rage. In public, no less. The child screamed and thrashed and screamed and thrashed. In Public.
Charlie and I had nothing to prove this child was legally ours, either. We had given our attendant EVERY PIECE OF PAPERWORK on the entire adoption. We realized on aisle 4 that this was a very poor choice. We ended up getting just enough to feed us for dinner and got the hell out of Dodge.
Once we got back to the apartment and fed the poor child, he was fine. Charlie and I learned a very important lesson on that first day. Food is Ivan's pressure point. Food is what will send this child into traumatizing rage fits. Food is also the way to avoid them. So plan ahead and avoid we did.
That night, the first night, it took forever for Ivan to finally crash. And that's what it was, too. He finally just fell over from exhaustion.
As did we.
(More, hopefully, soon...ish. I'm suddenly very busy lately. hehe)
Here's some pictures from that first day. =) Sadly, we didn't get any photos of the public rage but i'm sure our faces of pure horror would be hilarious had we thought to preserve the moment in pictures.

A Letter of Thanks

"So... I stupidly watched 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower' the other night and I cried like a baby."

We received a card in the mail today from a friend I attended high school with.  Totally unexpected. I opened the card to find a letter inside and the above quote is the opening line.
It might or might not be common knowledge that I, also, accidentally watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower about a month ago thinking it would be a fun, happy-go-lucky kids in high school story. I started crying five minutes into the movie and sobbed through the entire thing. Not even going to try and save face here. It was an ugly, ugly experience that can only be compared to that one time I accidentally watched Third Star and realized 45 seconds into the movie that it was a huge mistake but I couldn't turn back then and I ended up sobbing for an hour after the movie went off and I walked around in a daze for nearly a week, absolutely traumatized.

The point here is movies, books, characters, stories all make me feel things. Strongly.

My friend has been following our adoption process since the start and has stopped in on each of our fundraising efforts to lend a hand or keep me company or donate or just be generally funny. I also hadn't been able to talk with her or spend any time with her really since our last fundraiser, which was almost 8 months ago.

Earlier this week, as we were planning and preparing for our pick up trip, we had an unexpected expense for the adoption pop up.  We didn't want to ask for help but with buying travel tickets, budgeting the trip, and Charlie missing two weeks of work while we travel, we had no idea how we would pay this expense and still be able to buy groceries once we got home.

Then my friend watches this movie, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and it makes her think of me. The Rocky Horror Picture Show scene, specifically, makes her think of me. And God lays it on her heart to send me a card. To write an encouraging letter that I nearly cried while reading. And to make a donation.

Randomly.

We're still not fully covered on that expense but I'm not worried about it at all anymore.
God's got this.
We're not doing this alone.
God's got us. He's got Ivan. He's got our entire support system of friends and family and He's working everything perfectly.

The support we have received during this process is absolutely immeasurable. There is no way to repay every kindness, word of encouragement, donation,  smile, or gesture made that has helped us along in this.
I've called a friend while in a complete panic and had this friend let me rave until it was out of my system then she gently talked me down back into a calmer, saner place. I've had friends stop by to show their support and it be the best part of my day, standing around the kitchen table discussing the adoption and everything but the adoption, as well.  I've had people I don't even personally know message us to offer to help with fundraisers. I've had a random woman in the store make me smile and feel better just by standing and discussing our different paths to family building and even though we had nothing else in common, we shared a common goal of wanting to parent a child and being able to do that through adoption.  We've had family step in and support us. We've had our church family holding us up in prayer and faithfully reminding us that we do have their support in every way as we bumble through this.

They say it takes a village.
They are not wrong.

Thank you.
Thank you each and every one.

Quickly, now.

I meant to write this nice long post full of pictures about how we spent the day before we left Bulgaria in the country's capitol, Sofia, and how we had excellent hosts who took us to church and lead us on a tour of the entire city, I think. It felt like that anyway.
I meant to write a post about our last visit with Ivan and how it absolutely destroyed us to leave him knowing it would be 4 to 6 months before we would see him again (if at all. no one can know how court will go.)
I meant to write about how our trip happened in November and we finally had court scheduled for December 6th. I meant to write about how our court was delayed due to paperwork issues on their end and how we sat for another ten days in limbo praying. I meant to write about what a relief it was to wake up December 17th and hear that we had passed court and that we had another son. How awesome it was to know Ivan finally had a family to grow up in.

I meant to write about all that. I really did.
But right now we are staring at leaving for our pick up trip in 5 days.
We will have Ivan in our hands in 7 days.

and I'm a little bit panicked.
Excited.
Thrilled.
Scared.
Anxious.

Mostly, though, we're just packing and praying.
Packing and praying and trying not to think about it.

Oh.
Oh, this is feeling very REAL all of the sudden.

Chilling with the Translator

Our attendant was an adorable young lady and we were her first family to assist. She was pretty fluent in English, textbook style, or at least British style. I found myself trying to explain words or phrases only a few times. Mostly, we conversed freely. And she was very sweet.
Because Ivan displays some very classic signs of Autism, Charlie and I spent good chunks of our visits discussing his behavior. We would openly talk about his lack of eye contact. We would comment on his stymieing. We would wonder aloud about what a particular behavior or action would be providing him with.

"I wish I knew what that swaying dance does for him."
"I wonder if this is a self soothing behavior or a stimulative one?"
"What do you think he gets out of that?"
"Has he made unprompted eye contact with you, yet?" (The answer was no. Always, no. He did not make unprompted eye contact.)

Our attendant actually became worried that we weren't interested in continuing the adoption. I laugh really hard here every time I think of this because WE WERE SO INTERESTED IN THAT KID IT WASN'T EVEN FUNNY. She just didn't understand where we were coming from in our banter about him. We were filing away his every little tick to research later. We were documenting his every shift and sway and hop while thinking of a dozen different ways we could incorporate stimulating activities into his day at home.

"I wish I knew what that swaying dance does for him." Was our minds racing with thoughts like "I bet he'd love the swings in the back yard." and "Maybe he'd enjoy gymnastics?" and "I hope you can learn to appreciate dubstep because Mommy's gonna be dancing with you at home, kiddo."

She couldn't get over how excited we were over every little thing he did. He would do something new and Charlie and I would exchange a look of "DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!" and her face would fall a little and show concern that we were losing interest when the reality was that we were thrilled.

Over lunch one day, I remember discussing with Charlie that I'd love to witness Ivan have a meltdown in the safety and security of the orphanage. I'd wanted to see what his anger or upset looked like and to see how the staff worked with him. Our attendant looked horrified, "Why would you want to see that?"

"I'd like to see it so I can have an idea how to help him."
"But you would not... provoke him?" She asked, still shocked.
"NO. No, no. I don't want to provoke a tantrum. It would just be nice if he happens to have one where we can witness it."

I'm still not sure if she understood. We did, in fact, get a glimpse of a tantrum while we were there. Ivan didn't understand what was going on the night the staff let us feed him dinner. We'd asked if we could stay for his dinner time and watch (from the visitation room) how they managed meals. We had hoped to see how he eats and how the staff handles him during a meal. Instead, they offered to let us feed him. He'd already left the visitation room and was seated at the table, though. He knew it was dinner time. Then a staff person collected him and lead him back to the visitation room. He began crying and fighting against her because, the poor kid, he wanted dinner. He did not want to visit. The lady explained to him that he was having dinner in the visitation room and he was fine but Charlie and I both had a "Well, that was a tame tantrum but it was nice to see it." chat afterward. Our attendant asked about it and I remember telling her that it's very good to know that he can be talked out of a fit like that.

Our translator made the trip much easier. Because we were in a touristy area where the majority of people have some functional English, we could have probably managed on our own. We were able to get groceries and dine out and be tourists fairly well on our own. However, our attendant was fun and peppy and willing to do just about anything we suggested. She managed the taxi rides to and from the orphanage each day. She would order for us in a restaurant that didn't have picture menus. (There is one dish that is popular there called the "Shopska" salad. I know I like this dish and it's easy to find on a Bulgarian menu because it looks like "WONKA" in English.  The missionary family had a hearty laugh when I asked for the 'Wonka' salad when we ate with them. ha!)

Our translator handled all our interaction with any orphanage staff. She made it possible for us to gather information from Ivan's Baba. She also made sure we were fully informed about any paperwork that we signed while we were there.

Also, she was just a pleasant person and by the end of the week, I think she may have understood that we were actually very excited about Ivan even if she didn't understand why.

The visits

It's no surprise that the children at the orphanage have a highly structured day. Our visits were worked to fall within the confines of that structure, and even so, we still interfered with Ivan's routine but he didn't seem to mind.  Every morning, we came in at 8 to visit in the tiny toy stuffed room until noon. We were visiting between Ivan's breakfast and lunch. He was easy to entertain and we spent some time allowing him to just be so we could watch him and see how he self soothes and stymies. His Baba came in for a little while during a few of our visits. We were able to glean a wealth of information from her through our translator and also by watching her interact with Ivan. It is a joy within my very soul to know that she has been loving him for the last two years. She loves ON him. She holds him and pets him and rocks him. She sings to him. She speaks to him, constantly. She teaches him and plays with him. She is a blessing to Ivan and to our family.

At noon, a staff person would collect Ivan from the visitation room and he would happily trot along side her back to his "home" room to have lunch and nap. He had no issues what so ever transitioning from one room to another, or from visiting with us to returning to his home room, or from leaving his home room to visit with us. He transitioned very well from each activity.

In the afternoons, we visited in a play therapy room that gave us a clear view of Ivan's home room. It is set up like a little apartment where he and 15 or so other children all reside with a rotation of staff present. The children play, eat, watch tv, everything within this little apartment like set up. It is a home like environment and they are making a true honest effort to provide the children with as close to a "normal" home life as is possible in a facility.

It was sad for us, because all the children in the group could see us during our afternoon visits with Ivan. Even though we were tucked into another tiny room crammed full of toys, the entire room was walled in windows. It was nice to see the other children going through their routines but it was heartbreaking to see their little eyes watching us so sadly as we played with Ivan.

He enjoyed us for the most part, but the evening visits were harder on him. He got tired of us rather quickly in the afternoons and was beyond ready to return to the group by the end of the visits.

Apparently the weather was kind of chilly while we were there? It was October and the temps were about the same as what we were having at home so I was thrown by the way the locals were bundled up in snow gear when the weather was just ... overcast and in the low 60's. Charlie and I joked, "Maybe it is because we are fat Americans and don't feel the cold as much." But there were two or three nice days where the staff let us take Ivan outside to the orphanage playground. One day, we had to bundle him up in this coat that was two sizes too big and vibrantly purple and it suited his skin tone perfectly. He really does look lovely in purple, I'm not even joking. On another day we went out, he had a blue one. I think it was just whatever coat was handy when they were preparing him for us.

We were able to observe him in the play structures. Our Ivan is a bit... I get the feeling he is typically lead to a toy and told to play and then he just kind of ... It's hard to explain. Because Ivan is not a typical child, even by orphanage standards, it's difficult to gauge him. He had zero interest in playing outside until Charlie started putting him up on the slide and letting him slide down. He lit up like Christmas and the Fourth of July together.

(I'll need to post the video separately. I can't get it to load within this post.)

You can kind of tell from the video that Ivan is only vaguely interested in us, even. He is spontaneous and unpredictable. It's going to be so much fun getting to know him once he is home. I hope to look back on these videos and have a new understanding of how he was feeling when these were shot after I know him better.

We were able to take him out of the orphanage one day to get his passport photo taken. We also learned that he's been outside of the orphanage grounds before to attend swimming therapy and horseback riding therapy! What a blessing!! His Baba came with us to assist and I'm so thankful we were able to witness her interacting with Ivan during this special time. I learned so much just being able to watch her work with him. For the photo, Charlie stood behind Ivan, helping to balance him on the stool and his Baba stepped into the room to help get his attention and direct him to look at the camera. The photographer ended up capturing an absolutely stunning shot of our child. We now have a beautiful professional photo of our son for his freakin' passport.  Thankfully, they let us have a digital copy.

They let us feed him dinner one night as well! His meal was a soup that my mother would have called "Goulash", a piece of plain white bread, and a cup of the watery yogurt that is popular to the area. He eats very slowly. We do know that he has the know how and ability to feed himself finger foods, though, since he would take pieces of bread that Charlie broke off and put them into his mouth. (!!!) This kid just spent the entire time we had with him blowing away all our expectations by being so very capable! I managed the spoon feeding him his soup and he was able to eat nearly the entire bowlful. I think he would have eaten it all but we ran out of time. All his room mates had finished their meals, had TV time, and were prepared for bed when a staff person came and let us know he needed to be finished now so he could be prepped for bedtime.   I wonder how much weight he'll gain when he's able to eat until he is full and not just until he runs out of time.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

(HOPEFULLY SOON)

(NO REALLY SOON)

New Year, New Update

WOW.  I'm so sorry! So much has happened and our lives got crazy and I just have neglected to update.

In October, we made the big trip over and were able to visit with The Child. The trip was, as EVERYONE assured me, no where near as scary as I was prepared for. The flights were long and uncomfortable. The layovers were weird and uncomfortable. The bathrooms in the airport in Paris are strange. Oh, yeah, and people speak French there, en masse. That made me laugh.

We arrived in Sofia, Bulgaria and met up with a missionary family who offered to let us stay with them for the time between our flights. We became acquainted with traditional Bulgarian bathrooms because I desperately needed a shower. Then we were amazingly rude and crashed on their son's bed and slept, hard, for a few hours. And they fed us pizza and helped us exchange our dollars into lev. It was so nice to be greeted by a familiar accent and their family is so sweet.

We hopped over to Burgas, where The Child is, and spent the weekend trying to acclimate to living in the future. 

We slept. 

We ate delicious fresh bread. 

We went to put our toes into the Black Sea.

(I don't know who that guy is. Oops. Sorry, random Bulgarian man.)

Monday morning we were taken to the orphanage, introduced to the social worker, giggled over how our translator and the social worker were adorable saying "Dobre. Dobre. Dobre" with the Bulgarian head wobble nod. It really is the cutest thing. Then we were shuffled into a tiny room that was lined from floor to ceiling with stuffed animals and toys where we waited, nervously, while they readied The Child to come meet us.
Did I mention the wait was rather nervous?
We were nervous.
But when he strolled through the door, we were in love.
He came straight to me and fell into my arms, wrapped his arms around me and held on tight. He spent some of that first visit clinging to me or Charlie. He's a physical one.

(Now, this is skipping ahead in the story some, but I'm sharing his country, city and now his name and photo ONLY because he IS legally our son while I am writing this post.)

Allow me to introduce our son, Ivan Mycroft, in this shot Charlie caught of our first hug.

He was scared when we held him. He wanted to be held but he didn't trust us yet. He was happy. He was smiling and playful and allowed us to engage him. He allowed us to touch and hug him. He allowed us to play with him. 

We were allowed to visit for a few hours in the morning then for about an hour and a half in the afternoon.

Each day allowed us to see Ivan experiencing different moods, displaying different behaviors, and let us gather just as much hands on information about him as possible. 

He has receptive language (!!!!) and he follows directions easily and readily. He uses all his senses to learn about the world around him (which means things go into his mouth a lot, heh). He loves being held and touched and petted (on his own terms). 

He seriously has the prettiest eyes, too.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

(HOPEFULLY SOON)

(NO, I PROMISE, SOON.)