579. Our Elsie spent 579 days in a mix of institutions and orphanages before we met her. 579 days of doing it on her own. Being scrappy and being a survivor. 579 days of surviving but by no means thriving. They cared for her the best they could. But, if you had a couple hundred kids all living in your 'house'... you'd probably skip the nightly bedtime stories and waffles with spray cool whip & sprinkles on Saturday mornings too. 579 days for her little brain to form her take on the world. For her personality to grow under the canopy of being jaded by what life had handed her. I'll never forget the moment they handed her to me. I knew her the moment the orphanage director carried her into the big building with all sorts of craziness going on. A shaven head, bulging stomach and covered in sores. More disconnected than I realized at the moment and clutching a yellow cake muffin like her life depended on it. Well, because it did. If you've lived 579 days institutionalized, all you really need is food. Because that is how you survive. As I held her in arms, I swaddled her deep against my chest buried beneath blankets as if to envelop her. And she fell asleep. I'm sure the crazy of those minutes was simply exhausting.
Our time in China was quite honestly, a lot of work. I carried her everywhere. She didn't want Wes and my arms weren't used to the 20lb. baby phase anymore. Eventually, she agreed, against her will, that the stroller was acceptable as long as she could see me and it kept moving. The plane ride home was the most emotionally intense, painful 13 hours of my life. It was bad. It was painful. She cried nearly the entire time. Did not sleep for over 24 hours straight, ate so much food she literally exploded yet still wanted more. The guy across the aisle literally drank so much whiskey he passed out. Not kidding. But, as miserable as I was. She had it worse. I am convinced little kids know the gravity of the magnitude of change even though they're too young to understand precisely what is going on.
Our airport homecoming was wonderful and joyous. Seeing Elsie and Kaleb meet for the first time is one of my most treasured memories. The definition of a precious moment.
The next 568 days were a messy battle of unraveling the prior 579 days in which she was on her own. Those beginning days were intensely draining- physically, emotionally and mentally for me. I can't imagine what she thought of me those first weeks. Suddenly, this random woman was in charge of her life. This stubborn woman who insisted on rocking her to sleep at night, who had access to a plethora of food but only used it at certain times, this woman who was constantly there. Having lost the routine of an institution. Having been injected into a new country where the language, smells, food, people, weather, clothing were vastly different. Elsie woke up every 45 minutes all night long every night- for the first month or so we were home. Slowly, it weaned to less and less often. She needed to know that the stubborn woman and the new life were still real. So, she would cry out in the night for a 'welfare check' as we called it.
Learning the art of family is so much harder than a person realizes. I didn't cook a meal in our house until we had been home for 23 days. Simply walking into the kitchen sent her into an emotional tailspin. The smell of food- pure crisis mode. Seeing food in the kitchen or on the table but it wasn't on her table yet- an emotional explosion. Wailing, crying, flopping backwards smacking her head on the floor, hanging from my legs. Loud craziness ensued constantly. Eventually, I figured out that if I sat on the couch the entire day- we could emotionally manage ourselves. At first, Kaleb sat on one leg. Elsie sat on the other leg and we watched movies nearly all day long. 100's of episodes of Bubble Guppies and Finding Nemo and Charlotte's Web. Seriously. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Why, because everyone knew they were safe and 'had mom'. Then... slowly, one kid would get off my lap and get a toy. Then, we got to the point where we watched our Bubble Guppies but we had a few toys on the couch. On the floor by the couch. Then, go get a new toy but come directly back to the couch with mom. It probably took about 10 days of this until she would go get a toy from across the room. Bring it back and play with it at my feet on the floor. And, slowly over the course of about 2 months- we did a lot of unraveling and building trust. She knew I was on the couch. And, I stayed there where she could find me. All was well. The moment I got up and walked into the kitchen.... all craziness broke loose. She could eat all day long. All day. Constantly. Realizing that wasn't healthy or wise- one day, out of frustration I handed her an apple and said 'good luck'. Sometimes the best solutions are the ones you stumble upon. For the first couple months home- I carried apples everywhere. After breakfast, I would hand her an apple. The whole thing. She'd gnaw on it, haul it around, set it down, take a bite, carry it around, set it on the floor or on her chair or wherever. We took apples to church, to friends' house, in the car- everywhere. I always had an apple in my purse and another one in the car. Guaranteed. Those silly apples unraveled the lack of food she had during those 579 days. I know she was hungry for every single one of them.
At night I would rock her to sleep against her will. She would throw her head back, kick, squirm, push me away and always held her bottle herself. It took 111 days before she allowed me to hold her bottle as I rocked her asleep. 111 days. Adoption is different. 'Normal things' are not a given when you're unraveling all that a scrappy little girl knows. 'Normal' moms rejoice when a kid can hold their own bottle. Moms like me... we rejoice when our little one lets us in enough to trust us with the most thing- the bottle that ensure survival. It was then that I feel like she actually liked me. The seeds of trust began that day.
The 468 days since I finally unraveled her past to the point of getting to hold her bottle for her have been filled with a steady climb up the mountain. Trudging through the hard parts of learning that Mom and Dad are in charge. Battling a feisty spirit with a swift arm to throw a good punch or the nearest toy. The drama of trauma in all of its foot stomping, tantrum throwing, wailing on the floor, running away down the street, craziness. Learning boundaries and manners and that mom is more stubborn than she is. The incredible gift of speech therapy which gave her words to understand and to communicate! Eventually the apple went away, and she learned to handle walking through a grocery store. It has been a lot of work. For her. And, for us. Being family isn't a given. It is a skill and art that takes a lot of time.
And, recently...something incredible has happened. Our crazy girl with only two volumes: sleep mode and raging loud. Full throttle ahead or flailing in a heap of drama filled emotions on the floor. Our girl who can kick and wail on her bed in the most whiney, moanful, dramatic sob.... 'I want to be Happy' to the tune of an Italian mobster. The girl that for about 15 months straight would simply cried in hysteria instead of simply speaking the words such as "I'm thirsty, can I have a drink'.
The crazy has softened and I think she actually loves us. Like the deep kind of love where you know in the depths of your heart that someone will always be yours. Night times end with wanting one last 'hug kiss'. And, a little girl that stops mid-drama and with the most dead-pan look in her eye says 'Crying won't change it'. Or, in the middle of typical craziness when you live with a 5 year old and a 3 years old, will say- 'Mom and Dad in charge'. And, about five times a day for absolutely no reason at all... like when shoveling shrimp scampi in her mouth by the fist full because its her favorite meal or maybe she'll wander into the kitchen as I'm prepping supper or when she comes all the way upstairs from the family room and simply says... 'Mom'. To which I reply 'what?'. 'I love Mom." Because that is the most important enjoyable thing to do in her entire world right then... tell mom, I love her. It is an honor to be loved by our Elsie. And, I don't mean that in the flippant little, 'its been our honor to help' kind of way. Our Elsie made us earn it, which makes it all the more cherished.
This past Saturday was 'Tipping Day' as I call it. Its that one day in the life of an adoptive family when your child has been with you for one day longer than the number of days they waited for you. And, I am convinced that it is around the time of 'Tipping Day' that a little kid's heart really and truly finds deep healing and joy. She has had more of us now, than those nights a lone in a Chinese institution. The days of nourishment have now outnumbered the days of hunger. The days of being held now outnumber those spent lying alone in a steel crib. The days of minimal stimulation are now the minority in the days of her life. Joy has replaced strife.
God has worked a mighty, mighty change in our Elsie and our family since she came home. An incredible transformation in which God only knows all the details. She and I have had our battles. Its not that one of us actually won- its that now, we have the victory of an incredible love. A love filled with crazy giggle tickle wars and snuggles in the morning and midnight transfers to the floor by my side of the bed. The kind of love that means she wants to wear jeans everyday because they match mine. And, wear a pony tail- everyday, because that's what my hair looks like. A love so big and full and complete they want to replicate you in their own lives. That, doesn't come natural or quick or easy. Especially for little girls who spend 579 days fending for themselves in the sterility of an institution.
With many prayers... often said in the dark of night or in the raging crazy, lots and lots of hard work and steady resolve only do-able by the grace of God- we made to the top of the mountain on 'Tipping Day' this past Saturday. It won't all be down hill from here and even when it is, there will be places where we'll wipe out and trip and need to slow down to avoid wiping out. But, we'll do so as a family whom mutually loves each other tremendously. And, that is quite possibly- a miracle.
Our time in China was quite honestly, a lot of work. I carried her everywhere. She didn't want Wes and my arms weren't used to the 20lb. baby phase anymore. Eventually, she agreed, against her will, that the stroller was acceptable as long as she could see me and it kept moving. The plane ride home was the most emotionally intense, painful 13 hours of my life. It was bad. It was painful. She cried nearly the entire time. Did not sleep for over 24 hours straight, ate so much food she literally exploded yet still wanted more. The guy across the aisle literally drank so much whiskey he passed out. Not kidding. But, as miserable as I was. She had it worse. I am convinced little kids know the gravity of the magnitude of change even though they're too young to understand precisely what is going on.
Our airport homecoming was wonderful and joyous. Seeing Elsie and Kaleb meet for the first time is one of my most treasured memories. The definition of a precious moment.
The next 568 days were a messy battle of unraveling the prior 579 days in which she was on her own. Those beginning days were intensely draining- physically, emotionally and mentally for me. I can't imagine what she thought of me those first weeks. Suddenly, this random woman was in charge of her life. This stubborn woman who insisted on rocking her to sleep at night, who had access to a plethora of food but only used it at certain times, this woman who was constantly there. Having lost the routine of an institution. Having been injected into a new country where the language, smells, food, people, weather, clothing were vastly different. Elsie woke up every 45 minutes all night long every night- for the first month or so we were home. Slowly, it weaned to less and less often. She needed to know that the stubborn woman and the new life were still real. So, she would cry out in the night for a 'welfare check' as we called it.
Learning the art of family is so much harder than a person realizes. I didn't cook a meal in our house until we had been home for 23 days. Simply walking into the kitchen sent her into an emotional tailspin. The smell of food- pure crisis mode. Seeing food in the kitchen or on the table but it wasn't on her table yet- an emotional explosion. Wailing, crying, flopping backwards smacking her head on the floor, hanging from my legs. Loud craziness ensued constantly. Eventually, I figured out that if I sat on the couch the entire day- we could emotionally manage ourselves. At first, Kaleb sat on one leg. Elsie sat on the other leg and we watched movies nearly all day long. 100's of episodes of Bubble Guppies and Finding Nemo and Charlotte's Web. Seriously. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Why, because everyone knew they were safe and 'had mom'. Then... slowly, one kid would get off my lap and get a toy. Then, we got to the point where we watched our Bubble Guppies but we had a few toys on the couch. On the floor by the couch. Then, go get a new toy but come directly back to the couch with mom. It probably took about 10 days of this until she would go get a toy from across the room. Bring it back and play with it at my feet on the floor. And, slowly over the course of about 2 months- we did a lot of unraveling and building trust. She knew I was on the couch. And, I stayed there where she could find me. All was well. The moment I got up and walked into the kitchen.... all craziness broke loose. She could eat all day long. All day. Constantly. Realizing that wasn't healthy or wise- one day, out of frustration I handed her an apple and said 'good luck'. Sometimes the best solutions are the ones you stumble upon. For the first couple months home- I carried apples everywhere. After breakfast, I would hand her an apple. The whole thing. She'd gnaw on it, haul it around, set it down, take a bite, carry it around, set it on the floor or on her chair or wherever. We took apples to church, to friends' house, in the car- everywhere. I always had an apple in my purse and another one in the car. Guaranteed. Those silly apples unraveled the lack of food she had during those 579 days. I know she was hungry for every single one of them.
At night I would rock her to sleep against her will. She would throw her head back, kick, squirm, push me away and always held her bottle herself. It took 111 days before she allowed me to hold her bottle as I rocked her asleep. 111 days. Adoption is different. 'Normal things' are not a given when you're unraveling all that a scrappy little girl knows. 'Normal' moms rejoice when a kid can hold their own bottle. Moms like me... we rejoice when our little one lets us in enough to trust us with the most thing- the bottle that ensure survival. It was then that I feel like she actually liked me. The seeds of trust began that day.
The 468 days since I finally unraveled her past to the point of getting to hold her bottle for her have been filled with a steady climb up the mountain. Trudging through the hard parts of learning that Mom and Dad are in charge. Battling a feisty spirit with a swift arm to throw a good punch or the nearest toy. The drama of trauma in all of its foot stomping, tantrum throwing, wailing on the floor, running away down the street, craziness. Learning boundaries and manners and that mom is more stubborn than she is. The incredible gift of speech therapy which gave her words to understand and to communicate! Eventually the apple went away, and she learned to handle walking through a grocery store. It has been a lot of work. For her. And, for us. Being family isn't a given. It is a skill and art that takes a lot of time.
And, recently...something incredible has happened. Our crazy girl with only two volumes: sleep mode and raging loud. Full throttle ahead or flailing in a heap of drama filled emotions on the floor. Our girl who can kick and wail on her bed in the most whiney, moanful, dramatic sob.... 'I want to be Happy' to the tune of an Italian mobster. The girl that for about 15 months straight would simply cried in hysteria instead of simply speaking the words such as "I'm thirsty, can I have a drink'.
The crazy has softened and I think she actually loves us. Like the deep kind of love where you know in the depths of your heart that someone will always be yours. Night times end with wanting one last 'hug kiss'. And, a little girl that stops mid-drama and with the most dead-pan look in her eye says 'Crying won't change it'. Or, in the middle of typical craziness when you live with a 5 year old and a 3 years old, will say- 'Mom and Dad in charge'. And, about five times a day for absolutely no reason at all... like when shoveling shrimp scampi in her mouth by the fist full because its her favorite meal or maybe she'll wander into the kitchen as I'm prepping supper or when she comes all the way upstairs from the family room and simply says... 'Mom'. To which I reply 'what?'. 'I love Mom." Because that is the most important enjoyable thing to do in her entire world right then... tell mom, I love her. It is an honor to be loved by our Elsie. And, I don't mean that in the flippant little, 'its been our honor to help' kind of way. Our Elsie made us earn it, which makes it all the more cherished.
This past Saturday was 'Tipping Day' as I call it. Its that one day in the life of an adoptive family when your child has been with you for one day longer than the number of days they waited for you. And, I am convinced that it is around the time of 'Tipping Day' that a little kid's heart really and truly finds deep healing and joy. She has had more of us now, than those nights a lone in a Chinese institution. The days of nourishment have now outnumbered the days of hunger. The days of being held now outnumber those spent lying alone in a steel crib. The days of minimal stimulation are now the minority in the days of her life. Joy has replaced strife.
God has worked a mighty, mighty change in our Elsie and our family since she came home. An incredible transformation in which God only knows all the details. She and I have had our battles. Its not that one of us actually won- its that now, we have the victory of an incredible love. A love filled with crazy giggle tickle wars and snuggles in the morning and midnight transfers to the floor by my side of the bed. The kind of love that means she wants to wear jeans everyday because they match mine. And, wear a pony tail- everyday, because that's what my hair looks like. A love so big and full and complete they want to replicate you in their own lives. That, doesn't come natural or quick or easy. Especially for little girls who spend 579 days fending for themselves in the sterility of an institution.
With many prayers... often said in the dark of night or in the raging crazy, lots and lots of hard work and steady resolve only do-able by the grace of God- we made to the top of the mountain on 'Tipping Day' this past Saturday. It won't all be down hill from here and even when it is, there will be places where we'll wipe out and trip and need to slow down to avoid wiping out. But, we'll do so as a family whom mutually loves each other tremendously. And, that is quite possibly- a miracle.
To GOD be the Glory!!!
Day 586 with our Elsie girl :)
Photo Credit: Copyrighted by HH Photo and Design
