Detours

This is a post about detours.

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And apropos of this theme, I have a detour before I start blathering on about detours:

As I've been stewing about this post, this subject...a great lot of um, stuff (this is a G rated blog, right? right) has hit the fan in the Ethiopian adoption world. And I have a fair bit of thoughts about it rumbling through my brain...but those are for another post(s). {New requirements, across the board, for all families to travel twice - complicated and difficult and possibly good in the long run but a huge hurdle in the short for so many} For the moment, I offer my condolences and my ears to hear and heart to hurt for all of the children and families affected - for the cold slap in the face of worry that this news brings. But again, it's too easy to slide into the tempest of this news and start fretting aloud and repeating everyone else's words, and those who are in it, right now. And I'm not. I don't own those words. So I won't go there, not today. Maybe another day, ya never know! But I will probably also go off on a tangent or two...as I said, this just opens up so much fodder for pondering and processing, for me anyhow, which means, of course, for you!

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Back to current post:
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Anyhooo. As I said, I've been stewing about detours. It's hard to write all this because it's close. It carves right under that spot in your chest, right in tight to your heart and lungs. So if you cut too close you kind of gasp and can't breath, and you hold your breath as you talk closer to it, so that you can be really careful. Because you need to protect your own heart and also the hearts and breathing of the ones you love. I don't know, it's hard to make this make sense. I know I'm not making sense, and yet, this disclaimer must be put out first. Because its a raw spot. But it's also a spot that needs to toughen up, heal, move forward and that only happens by bringing it out to the light and looking at it, and thus, this post.

Right. Now that most have clicked away out of confusion and impatience, it's just us friends. Hey there.

So. A few times in my life, parenting life mostly, I have had some detours.
Scratch that: Ok, any life, my life, yours, we all have detours because no life goes as we initially plan it. Then it would be dull and boring and unsatisfying.

But I'm talking about the hard turn detours. The ones that have you ending up somewhere you never dreamed, parenting wise. Others have written beautifully about all this. I don't seem to be able to (again, hence this post). Probably the best known piece on this is here, known as "Welcome to Holland."

So, I've been to Holland, figuratively speaking. And you know, while the place has it has it's beauties, it's still a tough landing. And we have found ourselves detoured there once again, recently. And you know, this "Holland" is a complicated place. And like all control freaks (me), that detour thing?.....it makes you (ok, me) want to kick and fuss and whine.

Because I don't like detours....because they weren't in "THE PLAN." And that PLAN, well, we are, were, supposed to follow it. I mean, I had it all mapped out, you know? Knew where the bumps were, the turns, the scenic spots. Knew the time to get to our destination, and the best roads to follow. Heck, had even traveled it once or twice before. And when you are sent on a detour, even to somewhere with it's own intrinsic beauty, well, we control freaks kind of um, freak out a bit. Maybe we get frantic, or very quiet, or very deeply indigo blue. Maybe we stop trusting. Maybe we question if we ever did. Or do. Maybe we stop looking out, because the view has changed. And we get stuck with the rut of "but." As in, "But it was supposed to be Italy, not Holland." Or, "But, it was supposed to be in the PLAN, page 42."

And maybe it takes some time to realize that those detours are for us.

Those detours are for us.

Those detours are given to us by God himself.
Not as a punishment (because they are challenging, sometimes very hard, so it is easy to mistake them as such).
But as a gift.
A gift.

To call us back to Him.

To love Him better, right now.

To call us out of ourselves.

To save us from ourselves.

Those detours are not to deprive us/me of Italy.
That detour, this Holland, is to break our/my grasp on my own deadly vision: Us. Ok, me.

Finally, I realize that my struggle with this detour is me.
Of course.
Ever.

It has been ever so painfully shown to me (thank you Fr. Luke, ouch) that struggle is in my unwillingness to look....beyond my own miserable me. My plan. My day. My feelings and desires and needs. Those very things are what drag me into the indigo abyss. And that is not where I wanted to be or choose to stay.

And I forgot my prayer.
I - not so long ago - literally prayed this: "Save me from myself, Oh God, send me a child, the one you choose."

I forgot.

And He did what I asked.

Eight times.

Oh, dear, how could I forget that prayer?

This detour is for us. For me.

It all just IS for the child -- They haven't detoured. I have.

And they are waiting, pretty patiently for the most part, for us/me to step off the plane and start walking with them.

Really. Not grudgingly. Not counting the steps.
They are waiting to show me Holland. Again. Or - their Italia.

This blog, this post, helped me realize that it's ok to get frustrated with the detours.

But it's also ok to say the heck with it all, and we can make our own "Italy" right here.

Really?

Whoa.

I knew that, right?

Yeah, on the good days.

But I keep forgetting.

But, you know what?
I want to go to Italy.
I love Italy!

And who says we have to be stuck anywhere.....because detours are all about seeing new places with new eyes.

And I want to create some Viva Italia, starting now.

Is that your final answer?

Yes.

Roll on up!

Ok, I don't usually do this, but I am taking a break from my usual blather to point you in the direction of a happy fun worthwhile thing.  This is a win-win deal all the way around and so, I'm gonna do you a big favor and shout it out. 

You see, one of my friends, the amazing Adrienne Parks (and another post will have to do her and her program justice, this one is focused), is doing a fundraiser for her adoption from Bulgaria.  Now, I know, I know, we are all fundraising weary.  It's a weary time of year: the winter blues, seasonal affective disorder, spring fever, Haiti needs, and so on.  

However, do yourself a favor and head over to her blog and check out her stuff.  Because after much pestering persuading by myself and surely others, she has expanded her stock. 

So, what is it?

Rollups!!

What do I mean? Well I mean the cutest rollups for crayons or pencils or markers that you could imagine.  I know from personal experience.  I ordered a few, both boy and girl versions, of the crayon ones and liked them so much that I started nagging politely requesting her for the marker or pencil versions and for bigger/older kids.
  And now they've got 'em!

They really are very cute, and well made.  They have cute fabrics for girls and cute (read boyish, cars etc) fabrics for boys.  They stay closed well with a nice springy band/button latch and they DO stay secure.  They are perfect for backpacks and cars and travel.  I'm thinking spring and summer travel coming up: a great option for those hard to corral pencils and crayons and pens.  Fun, clever and well made.  Now I know  you can get these here and there online or now and then in one of the stores, but honestly, these are by far the nicest I've seen and they are for a great cause: bringing home a particular little girl who is waiting in Bulgaria for the process to clear. 

So it's money for a good family, and a good cause, and you get a useful cool tool.  It might even be add a bit of sunshine to the winter blahs......What's not to love?

I'm going to go order more for big kids now.  Go, check it out and tell Adrienne I sent you and said hello!

The turn-keys: Tears

So, here we are again.  Turn-keys.  Those things that I'm finding to be critical, yeah - Key - to our adjustment with this older child adoption. I've written about a couple already, here, and here.  And now, I want to write about another: Tears.

What? Tears?
How can those be so important?
Well, they are.
Yeah, it surprises me too.

I am learning that those tears are very important, critical, on different levels and in different ways.  Those tears are part of the adjusting, and I am not sure you can really adjust to all the new of an adoption without them.  And those tears are for everyone, of course.  Because each person in the family needs them....to process the intensity of the changes and the building of new relationships. Now I'll spare  you the blathering about the tears of the rest of us: the jealous tears, the overwhelmed, the frazzled, the blue ones (yeah, it's tough on moms too).  Those are fodder for a different post.

With a younger child, toddler or infant adoption, there are also many tears.  They are also critical to the adjustment process.  But they are easier to parse out, to understand.  They are typically more, not completely, but a bit more developmentally tracked and explained.  They are simpler because the child is still slightly simpler.  No less heartbreaking, but easier to console and repair.   The tears of the turn-key I'm talking about here are the tears of the older adopted child.  In this case, our daughter.

It's hard to sort through all this coherently.  But I'll give it a go.
It seems like it wouldn't be complex, I mean, it's crying, right?
Crying is a no brainer.
Kids cry all the time.
They cry, you console.
Done.
Except, not.

When an adjusting older child cries, honestly, at first you kind of brace yourself in dread.  You wonder, and fear a little bit, is this going to slip into something bad?  Is it going to blow in like a hurricane - tank the day? Because you don't know this child so intimately yet. You haven't always seen this before.  And you know the potential.  So, you brace for it.....whatever IT is.  And sometimes, it IS something very hard: rage, deep scarred grief, irrational fear.  Sometimes, it's just overwhelmed or misconception or misunderstanding.  Sometimes, it's just mundane, but ever so powerful, hormones.  Or lack of sleep.  Or an incoming virus.  It's all over the map, crying.  Tears. 

Even so.  It's all good.  Seems counter intuitive.  Our (ok, my) first reaction might, or is, naturally to wish it away, to sigh, to find the fastest way around it all.  But, that's not necessarily the answer either.  Those tears are important.  If this child is grieving the life they left behind, no matter if that seems unlikely as that life might have been very very harsh, then that grieving must be done.  It's valid; that life was what they knew, loved (some parts) and grew to themselves in. 

It's all too easy to think of grief as a 'hanging on' to something.  It is and it isn't.  When done right, it's a 'hanging on' to the good, and letting go of the bad.  It's ok to miss the ones or the place  you loved.  And that can totally jive with learning to love new ones or new places.  But, I don't think it can be done without the tears of it.

Then there are the tears of rage and grief of the hurt - for both old and new hard things.  Those are kind of scary - for everyone.  And it's so hard to know how to help.  And I"m not sure there is any way to really truly help - at least in the overt sense.  You can't fix it.  I can't fix it, or what has happened.  But you/I can BE there.  Just be there.  Hold on to them, sit next to them, let yourself get their tears dripped onto you.

That, that mess, is a fix.  It's the only and best one.  Because you are there, they are not alone, and you're not gonna run away from it.  And so, it gets less scary, for both of you.  But, oh, those tears...they hurt.  Both of you. 

Then there are the new tears.  These are the tears that can be both wonderful and frustrating.  The frustrating ones are the ones that you, and maybe she, doesn't understand.  They just kind of spring up....from a misunderstanding, frazzled nerves, hormones.  From being a teen girl.  From sensory overload in a new country.   From language gap, culture gap....all sorts of gaps. Those too, mostly just need a little time, maybe a little space, maybe a time to hold or sit nearby.  They need to wash away....the weary effort, the bruised feelings.  And they do.  

Way back, oh 85 years or so ago, I learned in science class that water is the universal solvent.  Well, I would say that the water shed in tears, when you are talking about an older child adoption and adjusting, is one of the universal glues.  Can be.  Maybe not always (I'm talking about us, here, always, ever...that's all I know), but oh so often they are.  These tears are bonding.  The happy over the top joyful tears...they are  just fun.  They pull you all in with a grin.  But the other kind....It's hard not to care about a child who is sobbing next to you (even when you wish it weren't so).  For the child to allow you to see them, hold them, at their most vulnerable....that is the beginning of trust.  For you to sit with them, hold them, get soaked by their tears...console them.  That is the beginning of family. 

A few days ago, a sibling moment occurred.  It was a pretty typical moment - if had happened between most of the kids.  However, it was the first between Marta and another.  And it was a a flash.  But, it cut to the quick for her.  It launched one of those tear spilling, walking away times.  It meant the evening would now be redirected.  And it was.  But, it was one of those turn-key times.  Because as I consoled Marta and talked to her about what happened, she slowly sat up in bed and hugged her pillow to her.  Then Bananas came in and flopped on her bed on the other side of the room they share.  And she saw Marta, still crying.  I said, "Has this happened to you?"  And Bananas laughed and said, "Oh yeah!  See, Marta, it's like this....." and she went on to act out the same interaction with the same sib.

And very soon, Marta was laughing with us as she snuffled up her tears, eyes red rimmed.  And I froze the moment in my mind.  These tears were healing.  These tears were bonding.  These tears were typical of any sibling scuffle.  And this image, two sisters laughing about a sib, both on their beds in pj's, while one allowed us to see her snuffling and gulping a bit as she came to calm, the other trying  hard to make her laugh and move on...that's a FAMILY.  That's what happens in families.  So, yeah, these tears: they helped turn a bit closer to family.  And I am grateful for even this tough turn-key.  Another one made of gold.

A WIN! Changing Lives, Families!

For all you families waiting to travel and about to travel to go get your kids from Ethiopia, there is great news! The kids are coming home! If they are 10 or under, they can come home. No more waiting for cultures, now they can come home. Wahoo! Read below for the particulars.

As you all know, this is an issue close to our hearts. Our daughter Marta was stuck in Addis and not allowed to come home for eleven weeks, waiting on a TB culture. We fought, screamed, pushed, shoved, and prayed. And still we waited. Many others have done the same, causing much anguish and many problems. However, times are changing!

Many people have been working very hard to get the Technical Instructions changed and get our kids home. It has taken much work and pushing and researching and talking and meeting by many amazing dedicated people: lawyers, adoption professionals, doctors, families, all sorts of folks. And now, change has happened, for good! This is a big darn deal and while it would not have helped us in our situation, it will help the vast majority of most of the families who might otherwise be stuck. It is a huge step forward and worth a big cheer and shout of joy, even clapping for the CDC, who agreed to make the changes. So, without further ado:

2007 Technical Instructions for Tuberculosis Screening and Treatment Addendum: Instructions for Applicants 10 Years of Age or Younger

September 18, 2009

CDC has developed the following addendum instructions for travel clearances for 10 years of age or younger. The criteria described in these addendum Technical Instructions are based on physiologic
aspects of childhood tuberculosis disease and children’s ability to transmit tuberculosis disease.
These criteria do not apply to adults or children with tuberculosis disease associated with higher
levels of transmissibility.

Applicants 10 years of age or younger who require sputum cultures, regardless of HIV infection
status, may travel to the United States immediately after sputum smear analysis (while culture results
are pending) if none of the following conditions exist:
 Sputum smears are positive for acid-fast bacilli (AFB). If the applicant could not provide
sputum specimens and gastric aspirates were obtained, positive gastric aspirates for AFB do
not prevent travel while culture results are pending.
 Chest radiograph findings include―
o One or more cavities
o Extensive disease (e.g., particularly if involving both upper lobes)
 Respiratory symptoms include forceful and productive cough
 Known contact with a person with multidrug-resistant tuberculosis (MDR TB) who was
infectious at the time of contact

For applicants 10 years of age or younger who travel to the United States while results of cultures
are pending, panel physicians should―
 Give the applicant a Class B1 TB, Pulmonary classification
 Document that culture results are pending on the Chest X-Ray Worksheet (DS 3024 [until
September 30, 2009] or DS 3030 [beginning October 1, 2009]
 Forward culture results to DGMQ “Quality Assessment Program” via fax at 404-639-4441
so that DGMQ can forward the culture results to the receiving health departments

Panel physicians should provide the DS Forms based on the date of intended travel. If an applicant
10 years of age or younger will not travel until after culture results are to be reported (assuming they
are negative), the panel physicians should wait until that time before completing the DS Forms. If
the applicant 10 years of age or younger will travel while results of cultures are pending, the panel
physician should provide DS Forms while cultures are pending.

Panel physicians should not delay treatment on applicants 10 years of age or younger for whom
there is high suspicion of tuberculosis disease and who would benefit from therapy being started
prior to departure to the United States. Consistent with other applicants started on tuberculosis
treatment prior to travel, if therapy is started for an applicant 10 years of age or younger, the
applicant is Class A for tuberculosis. A Class A Waiver petition can be filed so that the waiver
petition could be reviewed and the applicant can travel to the United States before completion of therapy. CDC supports the filing of waiver requests for young children with tuberculosis disease so that the waiver application may be reviewed and adjudicated in a timely manner.

Downtime

I am a "Type A" person. I know, this comes as a huge surprise to you all, a shock no doubt.
But, its true. I am fairly high energy, intense, and feel guilty if I am not doing something productive, or at least something that I can indulge in and justify. I have a constant "to do" list scrolling through my head...like a bizarre gerbil mill on speed: spinning spinning spinning. Fun, no? Not always.....

Why, you ask, am I indulging in this tedious reflection? Well, it is hitting me smack in my forehead that this very trait is a huge link, or broken link, in the process of adjusting. I know, I hear you: "Doh!" But there you have it.

Every time I allow myself, ok, force myself, to sloooowwwwww down and just, um, BE, with the kids (particularly the one newly home, now, years ago, whenever, tho this is just key with teens too) it is better. It can be just hanging with them, spending time next to them. But really, too often I tend to kind of slot that into MY agenda of work and errands and so on and consider that, that "downtime", checked off my list. Yup, done. Well, kind of. But the beauty and value of downtime unfolds when the downtime is really, um, down. By "down" I mean, of course, chilling out. Hanging with them, talking easy and slow. With, and this is key for us Type A's, NO AGENDA.

Whoa.
I know.

Sounds so easy and yet, so not. But when I can smack myself and allow myself to do this, to just let it be them directing the conversation, talking slowly, thinking, listening....it is so rewarding. And I like to think its rewarding for us both. If its with a baby or toddler or little one, you know its a great thing because they practically giggle or purr with contentment. But with an older child, ok, our new older daughter...it is just so important I think. I have been able to find and carve out a couple of these times in the past few days. They have been much needed; issues are arising of late. But those times, sitting on the deck in the late afternoon being lazy and answering any question that Marta lobs....sitting together in the art room, sorting pins (of all things, sounds weird, a spill), and then just yakking in two languages as lazily as possible.....those times feel so much better. They are building connections I believe. For both of us. And for that, that downtime is worth gold. Even my type A gerbil mill mind can be shushed and relish that.


We goal oriented moms (ok, sigh, me) tend to want to build the family, piece by piece, dinner by dinner, laundry load by car load. But what it is too easy for me to forget, is that the goal is not just the shell of the family to be in place, but the heart of it.
And that takes the downtime. That takes the willingness to just be there: lazy, accepting, quiet. It's a tough thing to do, too often. But now and then, we luck out, I remember, we grab that time.
We've begun.

Adjustment: Marking the Good

So, you all know we are at two months now. And I've written some, or a lot, about the difficulties and unexpected strangeness of it all: this process of weaving in a new, older child into the family.
I want to be honest about it all, because it helps me to process it and because I want others to know the real stuff: the good, the bad, the tough, the surprising.

But its too easy to focus on the surprising and the tough stuff and too easy to let the good slip. And so, to that end, I want to take a page from Mary's blog, one of my heroes, and make sure to mark the good. Publicly. So I don't forget and so you can be sure to see that there are good moments too. Little victories, in a way, no matter how small. Because in this process, even small things matter....sometimes much more than you might imagine.

Mary did this about a year ago: making posts to mark the good things of the week, so she would record them. And if I've got my memory and timing on track, I believe she too was adjusting to bringing older children to the family. I too, need to remember to do this. So, I will shamelessly steal her idea, with a hat tip to her for leading the way. And I will throw up one or two good things, when I can steal the time to load the picture and post it (not on a schedule or set number, I'm just not that organized, folks...I know my limits!).

So, here goes - with the caveat for you readers that these will all seem like minute dreary nothings to you perhaps. But in the world of weaving a family, they are milestones: happy important markers. And I want to remember ours.

While we had a very rocky end of the week with that whole "honeymoon" concept being clearly swept away....we finally ended the week on a note of laughter. And I am grateful. I think it was a relief to us all. Last night was a casual chips and sandwiches Friday night. Everyone was a little punchy after a long week, friends were over and it was a little wild and crazy overall. Somehow they starting making faces and rolling tongues and vying for who could make the "better" face, giggling and challenging each other. I thought Marta might be baffled by it, but then she joined in with her own, laughing, wanting a picture. The faces got goofier, wilder, the silly factor skyrocketed. And for a few minutes, it felt like a normal doofy family on a tired wild messy Friday night. Fun. I'll take it. Savor it. This face, this laugh. I will mark it.

The adoption process: what they don't tell you about coming to America

Well, there are SO many things that you cannot know before you move to America.
However, what they forget to tell you, or us new parents (tho, really, we should know better), is that there is a steep learning curve. NO, you hear and read and learn about the cultural learning curve and the language and family customs...and all those will be topics of posts to come, I am sure.

But "those experts" don't lay out the VIRAL LEARNING CURVE.

It's the same formula as starting school -its a new math:
New people + new food + new place = EVERY virus hits!

Every single virus and contagion that comes down the pike is gonna hit the new kid, flat.
It's like starting a new school in a new state.
It's like being a pediatric resident the first few years.
It's like visiting relatives who live across the country.
It takes a bit of time to inoculate your immune system against all the garden variety American bugs and viruses. So, since we have a "gulfa" in the house....so does Marta. Gabey did this too.
I guess I just forgot.
So, America doesn't only come with birthdays and ice cream...it comes with head colds.
{Consider this a public service announcement, from one adoptive mom to another. You're welcome.}

Tiptoes

So, we are tiptoeing around here. Ok, I am. And by that I mean that we are gingerly tiptoeing our way through the adjustment process, blundering here and there but making tiny steps forward.

Yes, I am mostly talking about me {duh, of course}, but really it does all apply to the whole family. Because make NO mistake, anytime you add a child the entire family has to morph and stretch and pull and squish over to make room. And I know, they tell you this in the books and so on. But really, it's just so much different living it and then again, living it adjusting to the push/pull, embrace/release, with an older child. {And I know that I've whinged on about this weird twilight zone time of transition already...and it's so different from last year's transition with Gabey as a toddler...but since we are still in the throes of it, well, you are too! Because that's what this blog is babeee...if it's on my mind, it's on blog. }

This transition time is something that can't be totally described with precise instructions and or diagrams...but wouldn't that be great if it could?!
Imagine: "Instructions: 7. Try to understand when new child retreats behind headphones or to bed early. It's probably just a small bout of overwhelmed and needing space."
Or, "12. When two teens try to share a bathroom, particularly if both are female, adjustments in timing will need to be made on all sides. This might take some preplanning and/or extra clocks, strategically placed. Consider investing in extra hair products and towels."

So, without said instructions, we are trying not to bruise too many shins or hearts or heads along the way, even as we clumsily tiptoe toward a new normal for our family.

Buddybug left for college again, which was a sad day and a sad weekend, especially for Marta and I (ok, a bunch of us). But it seems that just-about-daily phone calls help, especially if that call can be via Skype. And even though Marta is still not speaking much English at all, it is getting slightly less strange overall. I can ask for help in setting the table or taking this plate over to the baby and M understands and so somehow, it feels like we are communicating. School is the main event of the day for us all; for the kids who go out of the house to school and for the kids at home. This is allowing me to really work intensively with both Sbird and Marta and I think it's showing a benefit in both of them, at the very minimum they seem to do well with the extra mom time.

And I guess, really, that's the biggest change. Ssshhhhhh. I don't want to say it too loud. But then again, we Catholics don't believe in superstition, so that whole "jinx" it concept shouldn't apply.

But, I'll say it out loud (not shouting yet tho) I am moving into a new mom spot. One that is not having to scooch over so much for a "new kid" but is instead moving more into the reflex of "one of the kids." Soon?...I pray, for the fierce deep feeling (I know, it's not about the feelings, but I crave them)....."My girl." I am not totally there yet, we need oodles and oodles of time. But the one on one during the day is helping ease off some of the stiffness and strangeness for each of us. And for me, that is huge! Call me stiff, call me cold, you could and you'd be right. Mea culpa. And I hate learning that about myself (tho some might not be surprised, Nancy, I know).

Perhaps the biggest surprise and disappointment to me this go-round is that this is all taking unexpected time for me to feel normal and for the family to feel normal {Right, patience is obviously not one of my virtues}. Because we are not, not "normal" {Read: the old normal}, anymore. We need the time to make it through to the new normal.

And we are NOT there yet, but in a way, if I stretch my neck I think I might be able to see it on the horizon. And even being able to know it can maybe get there, helps my steps be more sure. And as my steps stop faltering, become more sure...as I smile and tease and trim hair and high five, then everyone else's steps also stop shuffling and stalling. I don't have to tiptoe around the pitfalls of presumptions and gaps and fear and otherness quite as much. And that makes everything better, for us all. I've never been one for toe shoes...too clumsy. So, I hope I'm done tiptoeing and can now just keep trying to walk forward, with the whole family, to a new normal that feels just right.

Little letters, big progress

So, this is just a short notice on short words.
We have made a baby step of progress this week, our first real week of school for all the elementary students.
For this particular student, happily smiling above.....we have made little letters of progress.

But OH what big steps they are!
This sweet girl is starting to read!
our Marta can recognize most of her letters, and usually gets them right (tho occasionally needing to sing them to remember).
And she has read these words:
Fox
Box
Cat
Hat
Sun
Egg
Dog
woman
man
mom
dad
fish
sat
mat
sam
and
go
duck

Now, that may not mean much to most of you.
But around here it was cause for whooping and high fives....because this is beginning steps to decoding, in my book.
Cool!

And those are the words that she read and also can understand (tho, she forgets now and then) what they stand for, connecting the word with the actual meaning or object.
Even so, we have a long way to go...she will forget the letter names then remember them again...but it's a tough language.
Even so, I'm happy for any of these small steps.
Now "my book" isn't anything official, its just me and my opinions...one mom's ideas.
But this mom thinks that this can be the beginning of unlocking a strange new difficult code, aka: english!

So, yeah, it was a pretty exciting week.
I think those first words are exciting, no matter when they click!
And to see those eyes light up with pride and glee, it's always great, no matter what.

It's Time to Limbo!

Yeah, I'm not talking about the Catholic "Limbo" here, that's a whole 'nother discussion.

I'm talking about "How low can you go?" And, of course, as usual, I'm talking about me.

You see, everybody keeps asking me "How is it going?" And I can honestly say that it's not what I expected, even as it is in so many ways what I expected. Confusing, no? Yes.
This is the most challenging thing I've ever done, but not actually because of Marta. Marta, so far (and I am fully aware of the whole "honeymoon" concept, no worries), has been nothing but amazingly sweet, nice, helpful, happy kid. Really, no big demands, no major meltdowns, a few small ones from being scared, nothing. She needs and craves love and affection and knowing she is secure in the family, but that is nothing but a time need. The lack of common language is, well, ridiculous, but that can only improve, right? No choice there.

No, this is the most challenging thing I've ever done, all because of me.

You see, this is my own personal limbo contest....just without the cute bikini. (Although I think often about adding the fun libations.....kidding. mostly). The limbo requires strength, balance, coordination, a brave spirit and sense of crazy fun. It also makes most folks fall right down on their fannies.

And, yup, I now get the fun game of seeing just 'how low can I go?' Problem is this "low" is not so fun and its a lot more than a simply pratfall from lack of strength and balance.....That is to say, my struggles are internal and honestly, in many ways they are a spiritual battle of my will versus, oh, anyone's, and my control freak type A nature. It is my falling into the icy grip of fear and a good imagination. To be precise, it is a lack of faith and trust. Period.

I know, I know, I have written on this before. But I want to shout, those posts were fine for then, but this is now. Totally different.
Right....{yes I am, it seems, a hypocrite}.
Those posts talked about this struggle and the grip of fear, love as an action not feeling, and the transformation in the struggle and the suffering. But you know, that's all fine and well AFTER the fact to think those things. It's another thing to embrace them in the midst of it all now isn't it? Because you know, struggle, change, even suffering (on any level, even the most minor)....it HURTS. Hence, the term: suffering. Right? And you know, we wimpy folks out there, by which I mean me, we don't really like to suffer, hurt and so on. I mean, it's one thing to say, I'm tough and I can take it. But really, when you step on that nail or heck, get that unexpected paper cut, you might just cuss and holler and whine, right? Ok, well, I might. Ok, maybe I do.

A good friend has pointed out that it's like a little Rumpelstiltskin tantrum. And she's right. Because it, my struggle these past few weeks, has been all about ME. I just really want things to be ok and normal again; my way, my timing, my ideas of what it should be like, my plan, MY FEELINGS. Me, me, me. My ideas are not playing out in the timing I would like, my body is being knocked back again and again with one variety of illness or migraine or something after another. The order I placed for a smooth transition: good health for all, full of overflowing feelings of bounty and joy, everything clicking into place.....oddly enough hasn't happened yet. Funny that.
And so I have been having a Rumplestiltskin time. {I am Rumpelstiltskin, old middle aged girl version, maybe I should change my screenname....} And it's hard and not a fun place.

But this week, I am also seeing something else. Not only have I seen a glimmer (and I don't even want to THINK about seeing further) about how low I can go....{ Shocking, I tell you. Utterly, heartbreakingly, humbling.}...
But I have seen what can happen when you get there. To your, ok my, lowest point. Because, oddly enough, even there, there is a beauty. And once again, that beauty is in the others. And that makes my heart be able to lift up again.

I have found myself laid flat by illness and fear, simply hitting my break point. And I have seen my husband and sons and friends (near and far) reach out to help lift me up. That's no easy task! But they have all reached out, grabbed me and helped me stand up again - literally and figuratively. And they are still here, helping me, holding on. And they let me see that despite my tantrum of wanting everything just so, on MY time and in MY way, it's not necessarily about that. And it's ok to wait for it to play out. And to try to trust.
Simple huh? Sure. But not so much, not for me.

So, if you ask how it's going I will still say this is one of the hardest things I've ever done.
But the gratitude I have for so many is some of my deepest.
So, I guess it's going just like it's supposed to.
It's hard, it hurts, I'm useless on my own.
It's great, she's sweet, the kids are amazing.
It's a huge change.
But I also have helpers.

And I'm grateful. Even as it's hard, challenging me on so many levels and putting a klieg light on my every failing...for what this brings....I'm grateful.
And I am looking forward to the luau without the limbo.....

Threads

Threads. Weaving together, pulling apart.
You know, adopting an older child is a completely different deal than adopting an infant or toddler. And its all new to us. (I know, doh!)
This time around is a strange new experience and process. Its surreal and odd and impossible to anticipate and filled with unexpected experiences, feelings, thoughts.
This time around, the entire event is much more complex, on all levels.
Really, it's just harder.

I know, this shouldn't be news. We were prepped, or thought we were (by which I mean, me). But really, some things in life you can "prep" for, you can intellectualize, do the research, do the math, run the numbers, stock the pantry, pray, wonder, imagine, speculate. But you know, just like anything else, you never really know what it's like until you do it. (Again, I hear you, doh.)

All this is to say that so far, already, this adoption has taken me places I didn't expect to go; both good and bad. But, one of the surprises to me are the threads.

There are a few tiny little threads hanging out, that we have been able to follow to the back of this tapestry and see. And it's one cool thing that, especially in these early days, I will hold onto.

You see, our Marta turns out, unknown to us prior to our meeting, to have a deep devotion to Mary. Yes, that's right, the Blessed Mother, Mary. Maram, she calls her, with a sigh and a smile.

Now, as Coffeedoc points out....no matter the new strangeness of this fit....what are the odds? Of all the children, millions of orphans, what are the odds that we would bring home a child who is so devoted to Mary? Good, you say? Maybe. But, honestly, we both think maybe not so much. How many deeply, openly devout teens do you know? How many of them have lived one or two lifetimes in the toughest of conditions already and still have that deep love and devotion? Well, we think the odds get pretty slim there.
But we, in our home, have a deep devotion to Mary (um, remember, Catholic...). Heck, our house is full of Mary icons and pictures and books and paintings and sculptures of Mary and her son - a veritable folk art/high art/kitschy/antique/homemade collectors corner of this. Our home might give someone who didn't have a love of religious art a start {Fair warning, visitors!}. But this part of our home sent her clasping her hand to her chest, saying "Oh! Konjo! Mom! Dad!" All with a mega-watt smile.

So, I write this to remind myself of this thread. It is knotted on the back of our tapestry. And I might need to lift it up and see it from time to time to remember that the odds are against us being brought together. As such, say what you will, I do believe that Mary had a hand in this. She loves with a perfect love and as such I can only hope that her love also rubs off on all of us.
Marta told us she prayed daily in front of an icon of Mary for her to pray for her and bring her a family, a mom and a dad.
Oh.
Visiting her church, Coffeedoc asked her if she wanted anything special from there, to take home with her. She asked to buy a bible and a prayer umbrella to present to the priest in thanksgiving.
Oh.So on those days (Why yes, this afternoon, now that you mention it) when I get a little overwhelmed and am juggling the senses and feelings and questions and hows of weaving all my kids together into a family - I want to be able to look and see this thread, this very important thread, and see the knot on the back. No matter the strangeness or the adjusting and discomfort or tugs, this is a reminder that just maybe, this one too was part of a bigger plan.

Being sewn together isn't always comfortable, perhaps.
But the tapestry, I hope and pray (and pray for trust), someday will be a beauty.

In the meantime......the Meet

Ok, I am jet lagged and recovering from being sicker than I've ever been....Not to mention the re-entry (and other ones now falling sick, but different kind) and reconnecting with my dear, sorely missed boys and the beginning of a whole new weave in our family. So, no real post for a bit.

There is SO much to process and adjust and sort out. It's wonderful surreal and strange all at the same time. Unexpected and indescribable and impossible to have guessed at all the things that come with adopting an older child, good, hard, wrenching, funny, surprising...the works. Either many posts coming or maybe not so many at all, we will feel our way through {calling on friends for tips; you know who you are!}. For now we are keeping close in, finding our way to new normal....

Until then.....{Shelly, here you go}:

Finally!

I don't have a picture yet, can't upload yet, I'm surprised I can even access Blogger.

That said...
We are here, we are here! In Addis Ababa!
And we are all together, finally!!!!

We have our Marta and I can't describe it. This is as best as I can do before my minutes run out, I promise more and better later but right now my muzzy jet lagged emotion whipped brain can only babble:
Tiny, sweet, smiling, shy, sweet, happy, overwhelmed, shy, tiny, nervous me, waiting to meet, leaping bear hugs, tearing up mom, unexpected, surprise, smiling, holding on, exhausted us, jet lag, long flight, good flight, Ayat house, hoorah, lots of rain, no language, pointing, laughing, looking, smiling, shy, eyebrow lifts, breaths intake, hugs, squeezes, hands holding, sitting close, sleepy, smiling, happy, crazy language gap, smiles, shy, sweet, tiny, together.

Sisters, all FOUR, together and smiling!!
Family no longer apart (soon all to be in same place, but for now, together) and smiling.

Whew.

Diving

So. Here we are. It's the day before we leave. And this time, we haven't gotten ANY phone call from the agency and instead of me in the curled up sniffling fetal position in the recliner as I watch my furious husband man the phones to Africa and the CDC in Atlanta....I am surfing back and forth through the house, up and down, packing, sorting, zipping, counting.

Duffel: zip. Laundry: fold. Shoes: find. Toddler: kiss. List: check.

It is a huge undertaking to travel, anytime, really... as a mom. With a trip where the family is split, you have to also plan and sort and prep for the kids left behind. You make the daily surprise bags with little happy nothings in them that will buy the babysitter a few extra minutes of happy busy time and you draw hearts on them from mom. You make these and set them aside, one per day per kid, no matter how old. You prep the babysitter notes and backups and house. You look at the garden and hope, again, that it doesn't die while you're gone. Then you turn to your packing, again, and you sort the clothes and backpacks and meds and books. And, inevitably, something is forgotten. Every time. {Ok, me...not SO organized after all}

And it's so easy, this time, so jumping giddy after so long waiting, to get swallowed up in this busy pack-o-rama. But last night, it hit me. Right about dinnertime, my stomach knew it before I did......we are about to plunge.

We are diving off a cliff.
That's sure what it feels like anyhow.

I've done that before, literally, on a baby cliff in northern California as a teen. It was what? Twenty feet high? Surely nothing. But I remember standing on the edge, trembling, afraid to stand too close, and feeling this same sick in my stomach. It looked so fun and everybody had splashed safely into the river. They didn't bash open their heads, they came up smiling...all good. Way back forever ago, in the dark ages when I stood on that cliff, a cute guy was standing by the edge and finally helped talk me into the jump. So, finally, feeling like a fool and with a great lurch in my stomach as the butterflies flew inside, I jumped. Not dove gracefully, mind you, but jumped feet first with a scream all the way down.
Obviously, I survived, with my dork factor intact, and in fact increased, but I did it. And I was glad.

I tell you all this to say that I have those exact same feelings now. I have looked over the edge, and I have a dear handsome husband standing next to me, encouraging me. But even so, I have those same butterflies swirling inside my stomach with both the excitement and the fear of jumping off this cliff. That may shock some of you, after all our ranting raging pining away to go get our girl.

But there you have it.

Every single time I have a child: by labor and c-section, by racing in planes or automobiles to go get them, near or half a world away, I have to fight off a bit of terror.
Because life changes, the universe shifts.
I know, I know, it already did.
But now, I am really, truly, leaping into the abyss of the new, the shifted.
And it's a little scary.

So I'm almost ready to go. Our bags are packed, almost. Our goddaughter arrives in the early morning to drive us to the airport. My toes are hanging on the edge. My husband is holding my hand to help my courage and I'm looking over the rim of the world, swallowing my fear and knowing I will make a fool of myself as I jump. I don't really know everything that will meet us, except a girl on the other side of the world....who might be just as nervous as me.

TOLO! TOLO! TOLO!

We got the all clear!
Marta's cultures are all clear!
We have an embassy date of next Wednesday, July 8th (my brother's 50th bday!)!

Natalie called this morning, early, right after Belay emailed her to say that the final report is in, it's all clear and the embassy will have the papers for Wednesday and we are good to travel.
I started to cry, because I'm a dork.
I couldn't help it and didn't expect to.
(Stop laughing, I know what you're thinking..but really I didn't expect to.)

And now it begins.
We travel today to go home, to do the final whirlwind of prep to leave for Ethiopia!
We go to bring home our new daughter and become a family of ten.
It's a good thing Coffeedad was right there and heard it all too as I keep having to double check to make sure it's real...it feels almost surreal.

Just. Wow.
Finally.
Thanks be to God!!
And to all of you, every one, for your prayers and support and, everything....and now I'm starting to cry again, so I'd better go pack.

Tolo! That's Amharic for "hurry, go fast!"
We are going, to Addis Ababa.
Gabey says this: "Fast fast fast!"
Marta too, I think, will say, "Tolo, tolo tolo!"