This Reminds Me

Archive for the ‘Russia’ Category

One night last week, Julia crawled in bed with me and went to sleep in the crook of my arm, the top of her head nestled under my chin. and her arm resting across my chest.  Keith woke us when he was ready to turn in.  Before I resigned her to the nearby guest room, I stared at her face for several long seconds, soaking in its features and marveling not only at how peaceful she looked, but also how we got here – to a place that Julia would snuggle next to me to sleep.

Keith and I have known lots of adopted people, including some of our dearest friends and family members.  But….they were all adopted as babies.  Infants.  Or – as we continually read the desires of potential adoptive parents on the user boards – “as young as possible.”

That is so, so different from adopting a six-year-old.

Rachel, Lois and Hannah never questioned my authority.  When I told them, “Pick up those Legos or I’m throwing them away,” they knew I possessed the authority to do what I said (and I pitched the Legos, too, BTW, the morning after I next stepped on one in the dark.)   When I shot a blistering look across a church pew or a restaurant table, they snapped-to or faced the certainty of punishment.  They might not have liked or agreed that they needed that punishment  – but my God-given authority to met it out was never challenged.

Neither did I have to prove my love.  Practically every breath of baby Rachel’s was documented, photographed and shared with half of Houston.  I laid on my left side in a hospital bed for 34 days to give Lois that critically-needed time to cook.  During her 37 days in the NICU, I rocked and sang to her for hours daily (Keith said she would know the entire Baptist hymnal before she went home.)  And Hannah – well, Hannah slept on my chest in my old recliner at least half of the nights of her first two years with her near-constant ear troubles.  She would wake and fuss; I would soothe her, medicate her, whatever and we’d both drift back into a too-light sleep.   Rachel, Lois and Hannah have always known that I loved them.  I pray they always will.

But what did Julia know?  She saw two big, funny-talking people coming from somewhere outside of St. Pete to take her away from every person and every thing  she knew.  She was told to call us “Mama” and “Papa,” which she did – but what did it really mean?   In retrospect, I think perhaps the bravest act I’ve witnessed in my life is her walking out of Children’s Home #47 wtih us. She really didn’t know what was ahead for her.  But she put on those Old Navy jeans and light-up tennies and out she strode.

I give major kudos to Buckner (our agency) for insisting we prepare ourselves to adopt a school-age child.  I have spoken and emailed with too many parents whose agencies did nothing to help them prepare.   They read nothing – no books, no magazines, nothing.  They spoke to no one who’d done it – they drew on no other family’s wisdom., or asked the magic question, “What do you wish you had done differently?” They didn’t join user boards – and I’ve said all along that we learned as much from the user boards as we did from Buckner. Their agencies didn’t push them to engage an international adoption doctor to evaluate the child.   Their agencies took a check – the couples took a child – Lord love them, now they’ve got that child.

When I talked to families that had done this, I got to where I could tell in the first two minutes if it was going to be a “yes, it was hard, but we’re so glad we have him/her” or “it’s been a disaster, it’s destroyed our family” story.   I heard plenty of both.  And based on what we heard from those families, and the books, and the magazines, and our social worker, and the user boards – we got as equipped as we could be.  Perfectly equipped?  No.  But equipped.  With the sites on Fetal Alcohol Syndrome bookmarked on our laptop with which we traveled, and with which we sent pictures and video to our chosen International Adoption doctor.  With a blanket we slept with for weeks to leave with Guanna-to-be-Julia on trip #1, so she would remember our smell (which is the most powerful sensual marker for children.)   With toys to measure her skills, and a notebook to trace her feet for the shoes we needed to bring.  With a list of questions to ask the orphanage director and orphanage doctor.

And – most useful – techniques to use to bring her closer to us.  Because we needed them.

Julia didn’t love us when she met us.  Neither did we love her, other than in a sense of agape love.  We loved the idea of her and were confident we could come to truly love her.  But our first two weeks (in Russia) were not easy.  In fact – she totally rejected me.  My authority and my love (fake it till you make it) were forcefully and flagrantly dismissed.  Keith was a man – both a novelty in orphanage life and an authority figure in Russian life.  She took to him right away, including pushing away other children who got too close to him.  But me?  She was used to dealing with women and – as she has shared in bits and pieces – she hadn’t always been treated well by them.

The day after court – May 11, 2006.  Notice she is totally leaning on Keith.  And away from you-know-who.

Julia wanted nothing to do with me.  It took a 90-minute, screaming, back-arching holding session in the hotel room one afternoon until she would relax against me.  (We knew of holding therapy from the books, and from other parents.)  I sang hymns the entire time, not because they meant anything to her, but because they kept me from getting mad.  At the end of that 90 minutes – when she lay spent in my arms, sweaty, red-faced, totally exhausted – our relationship began to improve.

Adoption is complete when the judge signs the papers.  Attachment, however, takes time.  The books say about two years for a school-age child.  Keith and I think her attachment really cemented last fall, when she was so sick, after about 16 months home.

I can’t speak to attaching to adopted infants, never having done that.  But I can speak to attachment with an older child.  To me, older child attachment is a lot like marriage.  There’s the ceremony.  And then comes reality.  Reality is that you’re in a relationship with another person, including all their strengths and struggles.  And both of you get to choose.  You can accept each other’s position in the family  – or not.  You can love each other – or not.  But both of you get to choose.  No one person has all the power.   You’re not Burger King.  You don’t get to have it your way.

When Julia leaps onto Keith for a tickle – when she asks Hannah to play a game, or Lois to watch a video, or Rachel to go swimming – and, yes, when she snuggles up against me and goes to sleep – she is choosing.

When I soak in her little face as she sleeps – I see those choices.  And I sleep better, too.

Two years ago today, we were bumming around Moscow, enjoying the sites, waiting for the round of Embassy chores required to bring Julia home.  The night before, Keith had captured this image of her asleep on the train between St. Pete and Moscow.  It’s still the screen saver on his cell phone.

Oh how she loved “machinas” – cars.  And this train.  And the following week – the planes at the airport.  Anything with a motor that moved.  She used to sing a little song about machinas.

Yesterday, I asked her to bring me the keys to my “machina” and I got a ‘Huh?” in response.

Fast forward to today.  Her first-grade teacher (the sainted Ms. Jones) sent home her daily journal because her work was so good.

Translation:  “I would have made it to school, but I did not want to go to school.   Instead I went to my cousin’s house.  I went to my cousin’s house.  While I was walking I saw a fox.  The fox said, ‘Mmm?  The rabbit looked good to me.’  Then the fox took the rabbit.  He took the rabbit home.  He tied the rabbit on a rope.  The rabbit told the fox to go to a store and he did go there.  The rabbit got away.  He ran home and told his mom, ‘A fox almost ate me.  I am never going to miss school.’”

That’s an original story.  Her language skills – both oral and writing – are on par with other first graders, and her teacher is confident she’ll pass the tests required for second grade.  Is she academically where Rachel, Lois and Hananh were in first grade?  No.  But neither were Rachel, Lois and Hannah where she was physically and emotionally for their first six years.

Funny thing about education.  There’s what you learn in school – like how to spell “fox” in your journal.  And then there’s what you learn out of school – to run like a fox to show that journal to your daddy.

We are rapidly approaching our second annual Sister’s Day celebration – May 18, the day Julia came home. The last two years have certainly been an education for all six of us.  An education with not only what Julia has learned at school, but also what all of us have learned at home.   Julia wrote, “I am never going to mes school,” and I support that – because now she is not missing a family.

The girls and I made a very quick trip to Houston to celebrate Spring Break week and meet their new cousin, one-month-old James Mitchell.  Julia was particularly intrigued with the idea of a baby in the family.  Every time we’ve seen a baby in Moscow, San Antonio, wherever – we’ve had to stop and admire him/her.  Julia pronounced James “soft.”

The girls all took turns holding James and playing with big sister Laura.  Hannah could feel somewhat jealous of him.  She’d held the family record of “Biggest Baby” with an 11 lb., 6 oz. birth weight unitl 11 lb, 8 oz. James arrived.   And yes, in answer to your unasked question, both popped out “the usual way,” though Mama Sarah completed her mission sans medications.  I waddled into the hospital with my right arm raised yelling, “Epidural!  Epidural!”  James also displaces Julia as “newest family member” – a happy new branch on the family tree.

Did you know there was a “Russian General Store” in Houston?  I didn’t!  Aunt Judy directed us there.  Julia raced around saying, “I have a this in Russia!”  We bought chocolate and some pretzel-y things she devoured.  Reminded me of the stores we visited in St. Pete and Moscow. Sadly, as we examined Russian children’s books, we discovered Julia has forgotten most of her Russian alphabet.

Hannah has outgrown her dress up box, and Julia has no interest in it – so – we packed up the contents for three-year-old cousin Laura.  When Hannah discovered her favorite “Red Riding Hood” cape was included in the gift, she felt compelled to retrieve it and adorn Aunt Judy.  “Oh, Grandma…..what big eyes you have!”

Goodnight you moonlight ladies

Rockabye Sweet Baby James

Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose

Won’t you let me go down in my dreams?

And rockabye Sweet Baby James.

Look at my blog

And you will see

A clue about

What’s important to me.

Years ago – and I can’t remember exactly when or why – I prepared a “Valentine’s Day Treasure Hunt” for the girls.  It’s a tradition now – Mom’s gotta do it.  I hide clues all over the house, leading to a surprise for each of them.  The rhyming clues are short and grow progressively more difficult as the hunt continues.  The girls race from room to room in search of that next clue and ultimately – their treasure.

“John 3:16 in a Bible blue means another clue just for you.”  Okay, so I’m not much of a poet….

Today was no exception.  I roused them early while Keith went to snag a breakfast treat of doughnuts and kolaches.  Rachel explained the concept of the hunt to Julia, who was quick to join in.  When she found a clue, she would pass it to a sister to read aloud.  The girls finally discovered their treasures, tucked in the pink cooler under the stairs.  The prizes were nothing fancy.  A much-desired striped I-pod case for Rachel.  A “Nightmare Before Christmas” music box for Lois.  A snazzy pink watch for fashion diva Hannah.  A “Tom & Jerry” DVD set for Julia.

And they all smiled.

A year ago today – and I remember it in rich detail – we concluded a “Treasure Hunt” of our own.  Keith and I traveled 5,600+ miles to meet 6-year-old Guanna-to-be-Julia in St. Petersburg, Russia.  We had to do it.  We had ignored divine nudges for years, and finally got a clue we needed to get moving.  We began our hunt in July 2004 and as we continued, every step grew progressively more difficult.  We signed, sorted and stapled as we raced from notary to state apostille office to Fed Ex, with friends reminding us to keep our often-discouraged eyes on the prize.

Our first meeting – Valentine’s Day, 2006.  Her favorite color was purple – I had to love her!

Today was exceptional, as we reflected on meeting Guanna-to-be-Julia for the first time.  Crunching through snow to Children’s Home #47.  Sniffing feral cat up two flights of narrow, chipped concrete stairs.  The musty smell in the cramped director’s office.  How small Guanna-to-be-Julia seemed, and yet so brave.  How nervous we were as we hunched on too-small chairs, clutching a bag of toys and wondering, “Will she like us?  Does she want a home?”  We fell in love with the treasure we we discovered tucked away in Children’s Home #47, and were determined to bring her home.  What our familly wanted was not fancy.  We wanted a cherished lil’sis for Rachel.  An admirer for Lois.  A playmate for Hannah.  Another daughter for ourselves.  And, yes – a family for Guanna-to-be-Julia.

And we’ve all smiled.

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  Matthew 6:21

Happy Valentine’s Day.