What to say?

Sometimes during the wait for our adopted children, we parents hit this white noise phase. Nothing new to anyone outside your particular wait. So there will be this lull in blogging and this avoidance in spoken conversation about the whole thing. It happens because each day is a new misery or basket of hope and yet it sounds exactly the same as yesterday's misery or basket of hope and you don't want to be repetitive. Plus, you kind of feel like no one but other adoptive parents can really get what you are saying anyway and most of the time they have said it better and funnier than you.
I have found that I am in one of those phases now. But what's up? I mean the kids here so isn't everything just peachy keen?
Well, the answer to that question is yes and no.
I have this semi-desire to talk about all of the peachy stuff. Then I think, "But that's not the whole picture"
I have this semi-desire to talk about the not so peachy stuff. Then I think, "Why? So it will seem like your dream coming true is just.....tepid?" Or I read some awesomely written blog post by another adoptive Mama and I think "oh hell why do I even bother?"

Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that the word "succinct" sort of gives me a rash. It is nearly impossible for me to give polite, simply worded updates. Nope. Can not do it. I try but it all just gets jumbled up and I stand there blinking and staring and looking kind of silly. Not about my kids and the journey to them and the journeys that we are on with them, right now, every moment, every day.

Yes, It's good,we are over the moon with Liam. I mean, have you seen that kid? He's about as cute and cuddly and social as they come.

No, it's not good. At least it's not great. Yet. Let me say that one again ....YET.   It will get there. We will get there. But right now it's just grinding, this work of getting to know him, of settling into this life together. I am sure he looks at us sometimes and he wonders about us and these things we do. 


With Liam you can go entire days and sort of forget that he is hurting. Everything I learned with Ev is right out of the window and I have to let all of that go. I have to see him in a new light. I know that every parent with more than one child has to do this. It's just with adopted kids, you have to be more fierce, more on top, more willing to surrender yourself. MORE MORE MORE. I am not trying to understate the relationship that bio families have but let's face it, most families out there are not dealing with kids that were deeply wounded, abandoned, hungry, lonely and frightened for most, if not all, of their lives. 


And that's how our days go. One step forward, two steps back. Lots of self doubt on the parental front.
Sound like fun?
Well, it is and it ain't.
And that's adoption.
And it also happens to be where we are.
(Deep breath, as whining will commence in 3,2,1....)
Also, we met with the Surgical Team. No surprises, good or bad. I had hoped for, not the best because I have eyes in my head and can see his cleft, but you know, I hoped for fair to middlin'. What we got was shit storm. "Very WIDE Cleft" said the doctor, "bone grafts" said Stooge Number One. Tubes in the ears. Dental surgery murmured Stooge Number Two. I loved the phrase "intensive speech therapy".  And the casual hand toss with the mention of lip revision(S) and rhinoplasty just about did me in. How dare they be so casual about changing that wonderful little face? I sat there with my son on my lap as all of those words fell about us like so much nonsense and my heart broke. Not for me silly, for him. For the pain, for the struggles, I don't know for all of it. And all of it starting before he has it figured out that we LOVE him and we are HERE. I struggled with it because I want the world to see what we see when we look at him, Liam Wayne Ao Zhuang. Just a little boy who will steal your heart if you are not careful.

And no. None of this is news. We did our research. It's just news FOR HIM. There is a checklist of possible procedures that a cleft affected child might possibly need, it all depends on the severity of the cleft and other technical things. Let's just say that Liam's is all checked up. And really who wants that for their child?
And no. I would not rather not do it. I want to help this boy talk and be heard. I want to see him stand up and walk proudly into a bright future.
And yes. I will get over the boo hoo fest about this issue. Any. Freaking. Day. Now.

In summary, we are ok. Sometimes we are good. Sometimes we see shining glimpses of the new us. Sometimes I want to put earplugs in and gorge on chocolate and go comatose for awhile. Sometimes I want to pick up both kids and squeeze them tight and shout to the Heavens , " I love these kids!!!"- oh wait, I actually do that. Evelyn loves it by the way (that was sarcasm). And sometimes I wish that a simple, fervent little prayer would heal my son's mouth- instantly and without pain.
The most telling thing of all is, I think, that sometimes, I am gripped with nearly crippling anxiety at the thought of a life without them in it. Not them being here and then gone, but of never having taken the steps that led me to them.

Once There Was a Nephew

Once there was this baby born to my sister. A complete little person, a stranger, a little wrinkled man.
I had the esteemed pleasure to be the first fellow human to ever lay hands on him. I remember touching his wrinkled feet, they were tiny but too large for his body and he was still damp from residing in that warm place in which he grew.
I rubbed that foot and I said to him " You don't know me and I don't know you but I hope we can be great friends"

And then the process of knowing him began. As a baby, what can be said? He ate, he slept, he grew. And I loved him, almost too much to stand. It was a difficult place in our relationship, for I knew that I would never have a child of my own that tiny and helpless- and oh how he made my heart ache and yearn. 

And then his personality began to emerge. Goofy, funny, smart, stubborn. A real fit for this crowd.

I watched him hit that roly-poly tumbling down toddler age. He was easy with a grin- just a sort of rollicking kind of kid. And he had asthma so I worried about him constantly. I also got to stand by and watch my sister change into a mother.  I loved this boy.

From those deep dark, eyes to that beautiful curly hair, I was, and still am, a goner. I remember his toddles, his falls, his clumsiness. I took to calling him headlong because that's how he approached life and body mechanics- just headlong into it all. Full of jokes and laughs. Easy with people, smiling and charming. But, also a rascal. I saw him throw a fit once that left me confused and baffled and laughing and crying and thinking,  "Oh my Lord what is Melissa ever going to do with this kid?".

And this weekend I looked at him. And I kind of panicked. While I was away he has changed into a kid. Not a toddler or pre-schooler. Not roly-poly anymore. Almost out of his headlong ways of moving. There he was, all golden and brown. Curly hair crowning that head. Laughing and smiling and being concerned and tender for his new cousin. He's playing soccer, he's learning to spell and read. He talks and tells me things about his day. He calls up to talk over a rough day with Evelyn. He is all things boy, rocks and bugs and climbing and sports, cars and airplanes. 

He is Brevin. 

My nephew.

And I simply can not imagine my life without him in it.

I told him once when he was worried about Liam coming, I told him that I loved him. I told him that no matter what, he was the first boy in my heart and that would never change. It won't.

Every time I look at him, I see those floppy baby feet in that hospital warmer and my heart skips and I remember my promise of friendship. Quite possibly the easiest promise of all to keep.

I love you Brev. I am sorry that I have been so busy and tired lately. Could you please slow down your growing a bit? Just until I catch my breath, so I don't miss anything, you see.

This is you at the beginning of this summer.

This is you last week.

See what I mean? Just slow it down a bit buddy, there's plenty of time.

To Have and Have Not

I have had this one aspect to our current place in life rolling about in my head for days and days. Then I read this entry from one of my favorite blogs and then suddenly I had words.
 
Bushel and a Peck

It was as though, reading Christie's words freed my own. That happens to me alot. I am a true  extrovert so my emotions are directly connected to language. Sometimes I can't find words, and then I will read the right thing, or make a silly comment to Leslie and SHAZZAAM! I have words.
And so that's about it. We have this precious boy in our lives. I have a son. There is this other person here enriching our lives, preventing sleep every other night or so, leaving me staggered by the doctor's appointments. Making me dig deep yet again to find even better versions of myself to offer.

And I am happy about this. I truly am. This boy is amazing. He can break your heart, make you laugh and make you feel like you would make better progress by attempting to talk a tree into walking away, all in a five minute stretch.
I have a son.
I am still finding the mother that goes with that son.
I know who I am to Evelyn, I know how to gauge her moods, read her face, comfort her when she cries. I don't yet have that for Liam.

On top of all of the typical adoption/attachment/bonding things we have going on, there is a dimension to it all that is present and it is making things much harder.
We can not communicate with this boy. Now, let me be real here, he has a mild hearing loss so really we can make ourselves heard. It's not that. We are teaching and learning sign language but that will take time. It's that we can not understand him.
He has lost so much, and now even the slightest wish or desire requires so much work to get across. His words are lost in that cleft and they swirl around and tumble out in all sorts of ways and there is no clear way to understand him. I watch him and I KNOW that even though he has seen love, he has been fed well, he has been cared for, there was no one there that had the time to teach him in the area of language- it simply does not occur to him to make the same sound twice for the same thing.

 I can guess at a few things. That he has had so much loss already that he will control this issue to the last? That he just wants to be a kid? That he is embarrassed by this whole thing? Am I right? Am I wrong? Who knows? He does and he can not tell me.
What I know is that these kids loose so much. They have so little choice in what happens to them that this loss of being able to speak his needs, wants and jokes- it just feels terrible.
Think of it like this, he has the mind of  a 2 year old but the physical language ability of an 8 or 9 month old. He jabbers and points and talks and we have no earthly idea what he is getting at. He knows. I see him sometimes, just give up. It kills me.
This is troubling. Not for me. I can work through it. We are working through it, slowly. And I know that his surgery will  help and we will really be on our way then. It's just that he didn't choose us- I would like to be able to understand some of his choices, even just if he wants a certain type of cookie. I am troubled for him I can not imagine how difficult it would be to be in his position.

And so it goes.
A little here, a little there.
And we will get there- toghether.
It's all I have to offer.

Breakdown

  So far this week I/we have:

                                                Accidentally stepped on the cat 563 times.

                                               

                                                        Gotten a toy boat stuck in hair.

                     

   Drove 3 hours round trip to play at Grandma's house.

                                        

             Tried Chile for the first time (he loved it in case that's not obvious)

Completed 6 hours of Homeschooling.

Had three Doctor's appointments among the boys.

Mopped the floors twice.

Finally got the laundry caught up.

Taken a few moments to sit on the porch in the spirit of camaraderie.

Cooked on the grill with Grandpa.

Played with cousins.

Discovered caterpillars.

Learned about Grandma's and Great Grandma's.

Realized that nephew's grow up way too fast.

Goofed off with Photo Booth.

Hey we didn't even have to use an AK!

Homeschooling is Hard Work

After a long day at The Table of Learning, someone in the house passes out on the couch.

No, not the student.  One of the Teachers.

Messages for Grandma

Happy Birthday Mom.

Today Evelyn and I sat and talked about you and she told me some things she wanted you to hear.

Here are her messages: Save a piece of cake for me.

Have fun at your Birthday.

We are coming on Monday for you to see me.

I love you.

I'll be bringing you a present.

I also asked her to tell me some things that she liked about her Grandma and this is what she said:

"She is just a special Grandma"

"I like her because she plays with me"

" She is just so pretty. I like all of her pretty jewelry"

"When she hugs me tight tight tight it makes me happy"

Mom, I love you dearly. I shudder to think about the type of person I would be without you in my life. You have taught me how to be kind and gentle and to be more "soft". When I think of us together when I was Ev's age, I just have this impression of you smiling at me. I have never wanted for a thing in the years as your charge.

Here's hoping you don't have to cook dinner on your Birthday.

Special Needs

Many months ago my husband and I made a decision. It was possibly the biggest one in our lives. We decided to add another child to this home. Not just any child. We held our breaths and jumped into the Special Needs line. I have to say that now, it was easy. Really and truly easy.

I knew in my heart that we could do it. I will not go into the dark days we had while filling out the Medical Conditions Checklist- some things are just ours. I will say that you can have some pretty awful moments when you look that closely at your own flawed heart. Mostly it was the worrying over this and that. What procedures would be needed- that sort of thing. But after that MCC, it was good. It felt right.

You now what? It still does. Easy in fact.

I am not trying to belittle the physical state of my son's "Need". He has a very significant cleft in that mouth of his. And as a matter of fact all of my false hopes for " a tiny hole" or " maybe it was already fixed" have been dashed. I have had a couple of rough afternoons when the reality of just how bad his speech situation is going to be. It's like this, if that boy is saying anything that resembles English, it is so garbled and scrambled that we have no idea. My heart broke for him today because I realized that he was pointing at a picture on my wall and I said,  " oh yes that is a picture" and he made a sound that I KNOW was meant to be "picture". But it was not. I looked at him and the light in his eyes and I realized that he did indeed say "picture"- just like any child his age would have. But if I had not been looking really hard, right there at that sweet little mouth? I would not have any clue that he is trying his damnedest to meet us half way. And that was the saddest moment of my life. Because I saw this big hill in front of him and I know that he will have to climb it.

What I am trying to say is that the loving him is easy. The choosing to care for him is and was easy. The hard part is going to be watching him fight and struggle to be understood. Before we met him, I would read blogs about children with clefts and how they struggled terribly with their speech and I would think "Liam's speech won't be that bad". Naive? Yes. 

Because the fact is, his speech is that bad. I have come to terms with that and I have set my heart to fight mode and I will struggle up that hill every bit of the way with him and I will be proud and happy to do it.

We have yet to see a Surgeon (it's scheduled) and we have yet to see a Speech Therapist (working on getting it scheduled) so, in our daily lives right now? There is no "Special Need". Physically.

I do however find myself looking at the fact that you just don't get a post-institutionalized child home and find them unscathed. The fact is that I thought Liam was "better off" than Ev. And, yes, I am going to say it, in many ways, he is. It's that he's not as well off as I originally thought.  He is hurting. He worries. He wonders how long this will last. He laughs and charms his way through the day because he feels so insecure. He needs me to smile at him so he can feel like the next few minutes will be okay. 

I have found a streak of stubbornness in this child that is a thing of biblical proportions. I know in my heart this stems partly from personality but also partly from pain. These children MUST maintain a certain amount of control. They MUST. 

And so the need I find myself stepping around and fretting over has nothing to do with the cleft in his mouth, it's the cleft in his heart. And there isn't a surgery or a referral or a vitamin or a therapy for that. It's just us and him, stacking time together. Smiling and loving and being as predictable as we can be so that one day he will decide that no matter what, he can not rid himself of us. We are in this for the long haul and he is the only one not in on that secret.