"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.