I'm changing up the blog a bit. I put up a newer picture of him, because while we all love the little boy in the blue overalls, that picture is a year and a half old. :) Now that he's "back", I want to move forward. Have no fear, his cute little 5 year old face is still in a pic down below. We changed our subtitle to be more fitting to what's going on now in our lives- "We teach him about life. He teaches us about the determination of the human spirit". We toyed with changing the layout and decided to stay with this one. I like the birds. Because they are like him. He's taking off. He's soaring. He's going to new heights.
I've been struggling with what to do with this blog now that Seth has been home for two months. I still want to keep everyone updated on his progress, and we know this road is still very long and very steep. I'll be posting more about cerebral palsy, because I think I have a responsibility to teach and inform about this very manageable special need. Also, we now know a lot of people who have either adopted children with cerebral palsy, have a biological child with cerebral palsy, or are in process to adopt and are researching to learn what it's like, day in and day out.
I'll also still be advocating, because honestly, adoption took our breath away. Ukraine changed us forever. I feel a big responsibility to those children. Every time a child is adopted from Ukraine, I cry. Because I know the cost. I know what it's like to take a child out of a mental institution. I know what it's going to cost that family. Not in dollars, but in effort, in tears, and in work. I know what it's like to slowly see the light return to a child's eyes. I know what it feels like to watch life be breathed into them again.
We found Seth, in large measure, because of two blogs. One was a person advocating for another child, which linked me to Reeces Rainbow and Seth. The other was someone who advocated for Seth. Advocacy blogging leads to adoption and adoption saves children's lives. I love children, and especially after being in Ukraine, I will do almost anything to save a child's life.
Seth survived a hell I cannot imagine for six and a half years. I simply cannot imagine. He has experienced things I will never know and will never understand. We are helping him overcome that. We're teaching him about family. About love. About life. Meanwhile, Seth is teaching us about inner strength, about the determination of one little boy's spirit, about what happens when a little boy refuses to give up, despite all the odds.
Bring on new beginnings! Bring on 2012!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
Giggles and Grins
Because today has been somewhat cruddy, and because I don't want to mislead you that this is all giggles and grins over here, here is a taste of what today was, which by the way, is a fairly typical day:
Seth got up at 4:30am. Thankfully, my husband did the dirty work on that one and I slept. Our day started with a bang. All seven up, six heading to the mall. I got the three boys fed, feeding Seth since his table manners and skills are still somewhat lacking. I cleaned him up, gave him his medicine, got the other boys dressed, brushed all three boys teeth, gave them appropriate vitamins, brushed their hair, and went to change Seth. Seth associates naked with "bath time" and since "bath time" is his favorite time, changing him is always a struggle. Today was no different. I'd no sooner get his clothes on and he'd be pulling them off again, howling all the way. I told him "nyet" and put them back on, only to have him naked again in a few seconds. He was mad, mad, mad!! I finally wrangled him into some clothes and temporarily appeased him by allowing him to play at the bathroom sink while I got myself ready. He was already in a bad mood becaue of the skipped bath and now I was wanting his glasses on. He fought me, but I won that battle. AFO's? Not today. It just wasn't worth it. They are hurting his feet and we're waiting for his new ones to come in. I decided to leave well enough alone. I got everyone loaded into the car, three boys in car seats, plus three girls, and off to the mall we went.
We got to the mall and I got out our huge BOB stroller, since we still don't have his wheelchair. Strapped him in, and in we went. We strolled into the mall, said goodbye to the girls and the boys and I headed to the reptile store. The reptile store went reasonably well except I got chastised by a six year old boy for having Seth's stroller in the turtle room when there was a sign that was posted that clearly said "no strollers allowed". I explained to him that Seth can't walk and I don't want him to miss out on anything because of that. Including the turtle room. The boy looked unconvinced but decided to forgive the discrepancy. Also, when I wasn't looking, Seth almost unlatched one of the snake cages. Yuck!!
We headed down to the play area, stopping by Kohl's to use the restroom first. I asked Noah and Adam if they needed to potty and they said they didn't. We went downstairs using the elevator instead of the escalator, much to Adam's dismay. I was praying for few children at the play area. I wanted Seth to be able to get out of the stroller and play. Of course, it was packed. Beyond packed. It seems that every single child in all of Spokane was located in that play area. Seth would have been trampled. Because I couldn't leave without letting Adam and Noah play, Seth got to sit in the stroller and watch everyone else. :-( But then, he decided to entertain himself. Stimming is like his own little built in play system. And stim he did!! I turned him around to face me, thinking maybe it was all too much. He still stimmed, but less. Ten minutes into playing, Adam announced he needed to use the bathroom. Of course.... So boots and coats back on, through the maze of sugar crazed kids and back to the bathroom we went. We met up with our teenagers and decided it was time to go home. We gathered our things and headed out to the car. I loaded everyone in, buckled car seats, loaded the huge BOB stroller and off we went.
I dropped Noah, Taylor and Sarah off at home. I took Adam and Seth with me to take Hannah to a friends house and we returned to make some lunch. Gave Noah and Adam their lunch, fed Seth his, gave him more of his medication, and cleaned him up. After lunch, I decided Seth could take a beloved bath and stripped down an incredibly delighted little boy. He played and relaxed, flipping from tummy to back, and back to tummy again, laughing and shrieking in sheer joy. When the water started to cool, I took him out and got his clothes out, but decided to hold him and rock him first. We sat there for a bit, enjoying the calm and snuggles, which he doesn't allow very often. I was looking into his eyes, reveling in the moment, when I felt warm wet running down my leg as he peed on me.... lovely. Seth. More or less non verbal. Learning to communicate. Learning a new language. Back to the tub he went, our cuddling time abruptly ending.
I changed my clothes, got him back out and fed him again. One peanut butter and jelly sandwich, one piece of french toast, two scrambled eggs, half a container of yogurt and a handful of kix later, he was ready to get down. I gave him his medicine again. I went to pick up Hannah and took her over to another friends house for a birthday party and I'm now preparing to make some dinner. I've also vacuumed, unloaded the dishwasher, reloaded the dishwasher, cleaned two bathrooms, did some banking, played with the dog and did some laundry.
Have I mentioned I have six other children?? One of them is currently building an incredibly high tower out of #10 cans in our kitchen. You know that's going to topple over and you know what that means.....
I told Jeremy I want to go shopping tonight. Alone. All. By. Myself. Heaven!!
So am I discouraged by the inconvenience? The work? The pee? Sometimes. But it's short lived. Because it has it's moments. Like when I was holding him (right before he peed on me). When his eyes locked on mine for several minutes. His beautiful gray eyes. And I saw it. I saw trust. And love. And healing. I saw something bigger than myself. I saw the beginning of the rest of his life. I saw a little boy who's had nothing. And I think of how far he's come, in such a short short time. When I focus on me and my comfort, it's easy to get down, to worry, to get discouraged. When I remember to shift the focus back to Seth, to his comfort, to his quality of life, everything changes. And that gets me through. He's worth it. He is absolutely worth it.
On second thought, maybe it is all giggles and grins over here. Beauty and sweetness, rolled into what one little boy has given to us. And all so very worth it.
Seth got up at 4:30am. Thankfully, my husband did the dirty work on that one and I slept. Our day started with a bang. All seven up, six heading to the mall. I got the three boys fed, feeding Seth since his table manners and skills are still somewhat lacking. I cleaned him up, gave him his medicine, got the other boys dressed, brushed all three boys teeth, gave them appropriate vitamins, brushed their hair, and went to change Seth. Seth associates naked with "bath time" and since "bath time" is his favorite time, changing him is always a struggle. Today was no different. I'd no sooner get his clothes on and he'd be pulling them off again, howling all the way. I told him "nyet" and put them back on, only to have him naked again in a few seconds. He was mad, mad, mad!! I finally wrangled him into some clothes and temporarily appeased him by allowing him to play at the bathroom sink while I got myself ready. He was already in a bad mood becaue of the skipped bath and now I was wanting his glasses on. He fought me, but I won that battle. AFO's? Not today. It just wasn't worth it. They are hurting his feet and we're waiting for his new ones to come in. I decided to leave well enough alone. I got everyone loaded into the car, three boys in car seats, plus three girls, and off to the mall we went.
We got to the mall and I got out our huge BOB stroller, since we still don't have his wheelchair. Strapped him in, and in we went. We strolled into the mall, said goodbye to the girls and the boys and I headed to the reptile store. The reptile store went reasonably well except I got chastised by a six year old boy for having Seth's stroller in the turtle room when there was a sign that was posted that clearly said "no strollers allowed". I explained to him that Seth can't walk and I don't want him to miss out on anything because of that. Including the turtle room. The boy looked unconvinced but decided to forgive the discrepancy. Also, when I wasn't looking, Seth almost unlatched one of the snake cages. Yuck!!
We headed down to the play area, stopping by Kohl's to use the restroom first. I asked Noah and Adam if they needed to potty and they said they didn't. We went downstairs using the elevator instead of the escalator, much to Adam's dismay. I was praying for few children at the play area. I wanted Seth to be able to get out of the stroller and play. Of course, it was packed. Beyond packed. It seems that every single child in all of Spokane was located in that play area. Seth would have been trampled. Because I couldn't leave without letting Adam and Noah play, Seth got to sit in the stroller and watch everyone else. :-( But then, he decided to entertain himself. Stimming is like his own little built in play system. And stim he did!! I turned him around to face me, thinking maybe it was all too much. He still stimmed, but less. Ten minutes into playing, Adam announced he needed to use the bathroom. Of course.... So boots and coats back on, through the maze of sugar crazed kids and back to the bathroom we went. We met up with our teenagers and decided it was time to go home. We gathered our things and headed out to the car. I loaded everyone in, buckled car seats, loaded the huge BOB stroller and off we went.
I dropped Noah, Taylor and Sarah off at home. I took Adam and Seth with me to take Hannah to a friends house and we returned to make some lunch. Gave Noah and Adam their lunch, fed Seth his, gave him more of his medication, and cleaned him up. After lunch, I decided Seth could take a beloved bath and stripped down an incredibly delighted little boy. He played and relaxed, flipping from tummy to back, and back to tummy again, laughing and shrieking in sheer joy. When the water started to cool, I took him out and got his clothes out, but decided to hold him and rock him first. We sat there for a bit, enjoying the calm and snuggles, which he doesn't allow very often. I was looking into his eyes, reveling in the moment, when I felt warm wet running down my leg as he peed on me.... lovely. Seth. More or less non verbal. Learning to communicate. Learning a new language. Back to the tub he went, our cuddling time abruptly ending.
I changed my clothes, got him back out and fed him again. One peanut butter and jelly sandwich, one piece of french toast, two scrambled eggs, half a container of yogurt and a handful of kix later, he was ready to get down. I gave him his medicine again. I went to pick up Hannah and took her over to another friends house for a birthday party and I'm now preparing to make some dinner. I've also vacuumed, unloaded the dishwasher, reloaded the dishwasher, cleaned two bathrooms, did some banking, played with the dog and did some laundry.
Have I mentioned I have six other children?? One of them is currently building an incredibly high tower out of #10 cans in our kitchen. You know that's going to topple over and you know what that means.....
I told Jeremy I want to go shopping tonight. Alone. All. By. Myself. Heaven!!
So am I discouraged by the inconvenience? The work? The pee? Sometimes. But it's short lived. Because it has it's moments. Like when I was holding him (right before he peed on me). When his eyes locked on mine for several minutes. His beautiful gray eyes. And I saw it. I saw trust. And love. And healing. I saw something bigger than myself. I saw the beginning of the rest of his life. I saw a little boy who's had nothing. And I think of how far he's come, in such a short short time. When I focus on me and my comfort, it's easy to get down, to worry, to get discouraged. When I remember to shift the focus back to Seth, to his comfort, to his quality of life, everything changes. And that gets me through. He's worth it. He is absolutely worth it.
On second thought, maybe it is all giggles and grins over here. Beauty and sweetness, rolled into what one little boy has given to us. And all so very worth it.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Seven Week home check in... Amazing progress!!
This was Seth, at the institution, two months ago, right before Gotcha Day:
He sat in this same line, day after day, for four straight months, watching the others rock and moan and grind their teeth. For four months, this was his whole entire day, while we sat here, putting together our dossier to bring him home.
This is Seth today, seven weeks home....
In the gait trainer at Shriners, taking steps and learning to walk:
Eating mashed potatoes, completely on his own. Feeding himself without my help, for the first time:
Seth is starting to speak English, and he understands us. He is wearing his glasses most of the day. He has AFO's. He's playing with toys, engaging with his brothers, laughing more, sleeping well, understanding what it means to be loved and learning more every day.
Seth said his ninth word today. As he was taking steps in his gait
trainer and we were all cheering him on, he said "YEAH"!!!
We agree Seth! Yeah for you!! Yeah for families!!
Seth is home now. But there are 100,000 children just like him in Ukraine. 147 million in the world. Just like him. They need someone to rescue them. They need someone to believe in them. They need someone to cheer them on. They need someone to say "Yeah!!".
Could you possibly be that someone?
Remember, they don't need us to be rich. They don't need us to have a huge home. They don't need us to be perfect. They just need us. A family.
Click here to learn more:
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Big Seth Day!!
When progress comes, it comes in bucket loads!! Today was a huge Seth day. I woke up a little discouraged and hoping to see some progress in a couple of areas. I even commented to another adoptive mom that I'd like to see some improvements. And improvements we got!
Today, Seth said another word. Hannah. :) What a sweet word to choose. That brings his count up to seven. He says Mama, Daddy, Water, Hi, Juice, yummy and Hannah. Eight words if you think "mmmmm" is a word!
And in PT, he took 15 steps on his own, in his AFO's. I was holding him up, of course. He's taken small little steps without his AFO's before, but has been having a much harder time since getting them. So that was huge progess, to see him walking. Brought tears to my eyes and a BIG smile to his face!
Another therapist popped in to say hi to us today and to meet Seth. She said "He's a lucky little boy to have your family". I said "He's an amazing boy. He is amazing". And then I started to cry. How blessed we are to have him in our family! He has such a determined spirit. He just needed someone to believe in him.
This is just six weeks home! Just six little old weeks. Wonder what the next six weeks will bring for him!
Today, Seth said another word. Hannah. :) What a sweet word to choose. That brings his count up to seven. He says Mama, Daddy, Water, Hi, Juice, yummy and Hannah. Eight words if you think "mmmmm" is a word!
And in PT, he took 15 steps on his own, in his AFO's. I was holding him up, of course. He's taken small little steps without his AFO's before, but has been having a much harder time since getting them. So that was huge progess, to see him walking. Brought tears to my eyes and a BIG smile to his face!
Another therapist popped in to say hi to us today and to meet Seth. She said "He's a lucky little boy to have your family". I said "He's an amazing boy. He is amazing". And then I started to cry. How blessed we are to have him in our family! He has such a determined spirit. He just needed someone to believe in him.
This is just six weeks home! Just six little old weeks. Wonder what the next six weeks will bring for him!
Saturday, December 3, 2011
And As We Watch, A Little Boy Emerges....
Seth has been home just over a month now. That's not very long, really. But to him, it's huge. We see such progress in him. The light has finally returned to his eyes. He is engaged and connected. He is losing that traumatized, dazed look. He laughs with us. He clearly enjoys his new home. Seth is healing. He's getting stronger and happier. We see it in him every day. And we remark about the changes we notice.
* He no longer laughs hysterically and uncontrollably when overstimulated. Along with that, he isn't biting or scratching much anymore either. In fact, I can't really remember the last time he got that overstimulated.
* He is stimming a lot less, and when he does stim, it's not as intense and not as long. He stops and decides that maybe it's way more entertaining to play with a toy instead.
* He is playing with toys. A lot. Not just licking them, but really playing with them. It's a joy to see.
* He no longer lays still wherever I put him. Now, he crawls all around the house, from the boys room, through the living room, down the hallway and all the way past Sarah's room and into Hannah's room. He checks out the cupboards, the dryer, he opens and closes closets and doors, turns lights off and on.
* He's more curious, inquisitive and exploratory. His OT says he is a problem solver. He likes to know how things work.
* Slowly, ever so slowly, language is developing. He makes sounds all the time, rolling them around on his tongue, experimenting with the feel of them. We're on the verge of a small language explosion. I can feel it. He clearly is beginning to understand us more.
* He has learned to express displeasure and we're learning to understand. As we respond to him and his needs, promptly, he is learning to trust us. He's learning what a family is. He is learning a family doesn't clock out and go home when the new caregiver arrives. A family is forever.
* He is attaching. If we're in an unfamiliar place and I leave his field of vision, he's watching for me. I turn and look at him and he's searching me out. He wants to make sure I'm not going anywhere. He wants to know I'm coming back for him. And if I take too long, he will yell out "mama". :)
* He's working on learning to hold colored pencil and draw or color and play with play doh. All I can say is thank goodness that stuff is non-toxic!
* He is learning to use the potty again, learning to feed himself with a spoon, practicing using a regular cup, brushing his own teeth, has AFO's and glasses and is getting PT and OT.
Now imagine this same little boy, back at the institution, slumped over and strapped into his wheelchair. Imagine his blank vacant look. Imagine a room of groaning, rocking full grown men all around. That was his reality. That hurts, huh?
What is the difference? A family. Love. Hope.
Think of Seth and consider what you can do. Consider being part of a miracle.
Adoption is not for everyone. There are other ways to help orphans. Below are two different families I know of who are in the adoption process. Consider what a family has done for Seth. Consider helping that same miracle happen for these children. Donate to help them bring these kids home!
The first child is Josiah. I've loved Josiah for a long time. I knew of Josiah before we arrived to get Seth. He and Seth had been at the same baby house. Of the original eight kids on Reece's Rainbow from that baby house, only Josiah remained with no committed family. Before we even left, I knew seeing Josiah and leaving him, knowing he had no family coming, would be the hardest part of the adoption process. Little did I know at that time that Seth was no longer where Josiah was anyway. I didn't think we'd even get to see him. Seth had already been transferred to a mental institution. But while we were there, the day came when another young child arrived at the institution. It was Josiah. The newest arrival. All of seven years old. I emailed Andrea, the director of Reeces Rainbow, who immediately posted a plea on Josiah's behalf and lo and behold, a family stepped forward in faith. A family to rescue sweet Josiah. This little boy needs to come home soon. He is where no child needs to be. Consider helping him. Here is their link and their story:
http://reecesrainbow.org/26162/sponsorjobes-2
The other family is the Watt's. They are adopting two girls, Polly and Molly. It's Molly who is in danger. Sweet Molly has been in danger a lot in her young life. She had a horrible start to life. Born healthy, Molly was shaken by her dad and then taken away, Molly suffered an organic lesion of the central nervous system, left-sided hemiparesis, delays in psychological and motor development, right-sided fixed torticollis and farsighted astigmatism. All from her dad. She's spent her entire life in a walker and a crib, in an orphanage, waiting for a family. That family is now on the way, but she's about to be transferred. Transferred to a mental institution. One like Seth's. We know what that did to Seth. It won't be any kinder to sweet Molly. Her family is working their hardest to get there as quickly as possible. They are racing the clock. We all know transfer is hard on kids and mental institutions are no place for children. Please, please consider helping them bring Molly and Polly home. Here is a link to their blog and their story:
http://nolongeranorphan.blogspot.com/
Thank you, friends and family, for your continued prayers and support on Seth's behalf. We feel God's hand in everything we've experienced. We feel your prayers and we are witness to the miracles all around. We still can't believe that the little boy in blue overalls is now asleep, in his bed, right behind that door. We know he is one of ours. We are so very grateful for the blessing of having him in our family. What a sweet, sweet little boy! What a survivor. What a fighter.
Please use what we've learned from Seth's experience to save other children. Please help Josiah and Molly come home.
* He no longer laughs hysterically and uncontrollably when overstimulated. Along with that, he isn't biting or scratching much anymore either. In fact, I can't really remember the last time he got that overstimulated.
* He is stimming a lot less, and when he does stim, it's not as intense and not as long. He stops and decides that maybe it's way more entertaining to play with a toy instead.
* He is playing with toys. A lot. Not just licking them, but really playing with them. It's a joy to see.
* He no longer lays still wherever I put him. Now, he crawls all around the house, from the boys room, through the living room, down the hallway and all the way past Sarah's room and into Hannah's room. He checks out the cupboards, the dryer, he opens and closes closets and doors, turns lights off and on.
* He's more curious, inquisitive and exploratory. His OT says he is a problem solver. He likes to know how things work.
* Slowly, ever so slowly, language is developing. He makes sounds all the time, rolling them around on his tongue, experimenting with the feel of them. We're on the verge of a small language explosion. I can feel it. He clearly is beginning to understand us more.
* He has learned to express displeasure and we're learning to understand. As we respond to him and his needs, promptly, he is learning to trust us. He's learning what a family is. He is learning a family doesn't clock out and go home when the new caregiver arrives. A family is forever.
* He is attaching. If we're in an unfamiliar place and I leave his field of vision, he's watching for me. I turn and look at him and he's searching me out. He wants to make sure I'm not going anywhere. He wants to know I'm coming back for him. And if I take too long, he will yell out "mama". :)
* He's working on learning to hold colored pencil and draw or color and play with play doh. All I can say is thank goodness that stuff is non-toxic!
* He is learning to use the potty again, learning to feed himself with a spoon, practicing using a regular cup, brushing his own teeth, has AFO's and glasses and is getting PT and OT.
Seth, the day we met him:
Seth, this past week:
In one month, he's learned so many things. Overcome so much. Made so much progress. Imagine what six months will look like. Imagine what a lifetime will look like. We are witnessing a miracle.
Now imagine this same little boy, back at the institution, slumped over and strapped into his wheelchair. Imagine his blank vacant look. Imagine a room of groaning, rocking full grown men all around. That was his reality. That hurts, huh?
What is the difference? A family. Love. Hope.
Think of Seth and consider what you can do. Consider being part of a miracle.
Adoption is not for everyone. There are other ways to help orphans. Below are two different families I know of who are in the adoption process. Consider what a family has done for Seth. Consider helping that same miracle happen for these children. Donate to help them bring these kids home!
The first child is Josiah. I've loved Josiah for a long time. I knew of Josiah before we arrived to get Seth. He and Seth had been at the same baby house. Of the original eight kids on Reece's Rainbow from that baby house, only Josiah remained with no committed family. Before we even left, I knew seeing Josiah and leaving him, knowing he had no family coming, would be the hardest part of the adoption process. Little did I know at that time that Seth was no longer where Josiah was anyway. I didn't think we'd even get to see him. Seth had already been transferred to a mental institution. But while we were there, the day came when another young child arrived at the institution. It was Josiah. The newest arrival. All of seven years old. I emailed Andrea, the director of Reeces Rainbow, who immediately posted a plea on Josiah's behalf and lo and behold, a family stepped forward in faith. A family to rescue sweet Josiah. This little boy needs to come home soon. He is where no child needs to be. Consider helping him. Here is their link and their story:
http://reecesrainbow.org/26162/sponsorjobes-2
The other family is the Watt's. They are adopting two girls, Polly and Molly. It's Molly who is in danger. Sweet Molly has been in danger a lot in her young life. She had a horrible start to life. Born healthy, Molly was shaken by her dad and then taken away, Molly suffered an organic lesion of the central nervous system, left-sided hemiparesis, delays in psychological and motor development, right-sided fixed torticollis and farsighted astigmatism. All from her dad. She's spent her entire life in a walker and a crib, in an orphanage, waiting for a family. That family is now on the way, but she's about to be transferred. Transferred to a mental institution. One like Seth's. We know what that did to Seth. It won't be any kinder to sweet Molly. Her family is working their hardest to get there as quickly as possible. They are racing the clock. We all know transfer is hard on kids and mental institutions are no place for children. Please, please consider helping them bring Molly and Polly home. Here is a link to their blog and their story:
http://nolongeranorphan.blogspot.com/
Thank you, friends and family, for your continued prayers and support on Seth's behalf. We feel God's hand in everything we've experienced. We feel your prayers and we are witness to the miracles all around. We still can't believe that the little boy in blue overalls is now asleep, in his bed, right behind that door. We know he is one of ours. We are so very grateful for the blessing of having him in our family. What a sweet, sweet little boy! What a survivor. What a fighter.
Please use what we've learned from Seth's experience to save other children. Please help Josiah and Molly come home.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
The Dreaded T Word- A Look Back, A Look Forward
Transfer.
Here's an orphan equation for you:
Abandonment + Transfer= Trauma.
Abandonment + Transfer= Trauma.
Plain and simple.
Jeremy and I were talking last night about transfers. Yes, I know. Funny topic to be talking to a spouse about. What can I say? It occurred to us that because Seth was so young when his mother gave him up, his baby house was the only "home" he knew and his caregivers were "mom". Not ideal, but that's all he's had. That's all he knew.
If you have a six year old, or if you know of a six year old, picture how they would feel if they were suddenly uprooted from the only home they ever knew, without explanation, whisked away to a new home where everyone spoke a different language (this part is true, by the way), and where there were no familiar faces. Where were their friends? Their familiar family members? Familiar smells and foods and routine and toys? It doesn't matter if their first home is not totally ideal. It's their home. Their normal. Traumatic? I think so.
We talked about his "abandonment" and the trauma that likely happened when he was transferred in June, three months before we got there, from his baby house to the institution. Today, I looked through pictures to try to find clues as to how that transfer might have affected him. How it might still be affecting him. How it might be affecting his delays and his stimming. This is what I found:
This pic was taken the day of his transfer. Look how happy he is. He had no idea what was coming.... :(
Look how connected he looks. He's looking at the camera and smiling. On purpose.
Something we still have not been able to get him to do.
Look how connected he looks. He's looking at the camera and smiling. On purpose.
Something we still have not been able to get him to do.
And the day we got to the institution, three months later:
Four pics. Looking anywhere but at us.
Unable, unwilling to make eye contact. Unwilling to track motion. Unwilling to care.
Unable, unwilling to make eye contact. Unwilling to track motion. Unwilling to care.
It took us two days just to get him to look us in the eye.
And yes, he was stimming in the second picture.
But now.... now, look at him!!
Home. Loved. Safe. Never to be transferred again.
Just two and a half weeks. Still in transition, but Wow! The improvement. The engagement.
Do you see it? That, my friends, is life! He feels it!
They say that it will take the same amount of time for him to recover from transfer as he spent in transfer. Meaning it could take him up to three months to recover from his transfer. We're a few weeks in. What might the next two months bring?
Sweet, sweet boy!
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Truth Be Told (the details that hurt)
We've been home with Seth now for just over two weeks, and have had him in our care for just over three. He is such a sweetie, doing well in every way. We could not be happier. His siblings love him and he loves them. He is adjusting well, not only to being in a new (and foreign) country and new language, but to being in an insanely busy family with tons of activity and energy. There is no fear, no tantrums, no anger. We have no food problems and minimal sleep issues. We simply could not love him more. Is it good? Oh yes! Is the adjustment without bumps and glitches? Well.... no.
Forgive me at this point if I sound whiny, because I know this could be so much worse. I know so many who are experiencing worse in an effort to save their child. Adoption is not easy. It is costly. Not just in dollars, but in emotions. It hurts to watch a child hurt. It hurts to heal a child. The stakes are so incredibly high when dealing with Heavenly Father's children. And so incredibly worth it. So I'm telling the details to educate you, help you to understand why I'm so jumpy and protective of him, and to maybe get some advice and counsel from those who have faced similar behaviors.
Truth be told, orphanage life stinks. Period. Being in a wheelchair all day long stinks. Being spoon and bottle fed stinks. Being put back in diapers stinks. Never receiving any schooling stinks. Receiving limited therapy and inadequate healthcare stinks. Never being taught colors, letters, numbers, or shapes stinks. When I say he's delayed, that's an understatement. How could that life and that neglect not have an affect on him?
When we learned that Seth needs glasses badly, someone said "I can't believe someone in his country didn't catch that". Well, I can. Because I highly doubt Seth ever received a vision screening. Nor a dental exam. He's received minimal health care, limited therapy, and no schooling. Truth be told, Seth's life was sustained for six and a half years. They actually took good care of him, physically. In their minds, they even loved him. But in his country, physical disability = mental disability, and mental disability will earn a child a lifetime sentence in a mental institution, with little opportunity for ever getting out. Ever.
In a country that frequently abandons their babies with special needs, the thought that these children would be adoptable and wanted is unheard of. Children with special needs will almost always find themselves in a mental institution sometime before their sixth birthday. So if they are abandoned, and there's little chance of adoption, and they will never be expected to live on their own, why take care of them beyond the most basic needs? Why educate them? Why train them for a job? Why teach them self care skills, preparing them for independent life? Understand, when I say Seth would have never received anything in his country, I mean just that. He received nothing. Nada. Nor would he have.
Children with any kind of special need get a very raw deal in the orphanages, but in my opinion, children who can't walk receive the very worst sentence. While in the baby house, Seth spent most of his days either in a playpen or a stroller, with limited access to other kids or toys, because they consider the floors dirty and won't let children who can't walk play on them. That is bad enough, but once transferred in June, he literally spent three months strapped in a wheelchair, sitting in a circle, watching grown wheelchair-bound men groan and rock and grind their teeth, with no access to anything even remotely stimulating and no one to talk to. My little Seth. My sweet little Seth.
When he was at the baby house, he was considered "of high intellect", could drink from a cup, was potty trained and was almost walking (although still kept in a stroller or playpen). When he was transferred, they took that away from him, gave him a bottle, put him in a diaper and strapped him into the wheelchair, all in an effort to keep mess to a minimum, to mainstream their job and care. He's lucky though. Many who can't walk find themselves confined to a crib. All. Day. Long. Wheelchairs are slightly more stimulating than cribs.
I had recent pics of Seth before he was transferred and reports from several people. I knew what to expect from Seth. That was before his transfer. When we came into the room to meet him for the first time, I did not even recognize him. I had to ask the director which one he was. There he was, strapped into his wheelchair, crumpled over, no life in his eyes, vacant, not willing to make eye contact. Where did my smiley little boy go? What had they done to him?
Over the course of the next five weeks, we drew him back, claimed him again. Re-taught him the skills he had lost. But it really isn't til you grab them, put them in a car, drive away, load them on a plane and fly them for 30 hours to bring them home that the real work begins. The real pain comes out. The real trauma is dealt with. For Seth, that comes out in a couple ways. Both are considered self stimulating behaviors. Stimming for short, these behaviors are coping mechanisms, boredom busters, the product of sensory deprivation, a sign of overstimulation. Theories abound as to why kids who have lived in orphanages do it, but most do. Rocking, head banging, "checking out", flapping hands. All considered "stimming". Seth doesn't do any of these types of stimming.
Seth's stimming looks like a full body, full-on, seizure, but it's not. We know it's not because he can stop for a break, take a snack, be distracted. He does this several times a day, but it makes it rather uncomfortable to take him very far because it's completely unpredictable. I'm learning to accept that this is what he does. This is how he's coped. But it's difficult to watch. It's hard to be comfortable with it. It's even harder to explain. This is how he's survived. He knows no other way to relax, process, fill time, de-stress. It is likely that over time, as he sees better and learns to be more mobile, his stimming will decrease and may even disappear. But for now, this is what it is. So if you see him having what looks like a seizure, don't be alarmed. It's just part of his sweet little package. :)
We have a better handle on his other stimming behavior, but know less how to deal with it. While we don't know what causes his seizure-like stimming, we know his out-of-control laughing is from being overstimulated. This is when he bites, pulls hair and scratches. He is generally a very sweet and loving little boy, but when he's done, he's done, and at that point, we're not sure how much awareness he has. His laugh becomes maniacal and there is little we can do to soothe him because it only overstimulates him more. Leaving him alone, moving him to a quieter place.... nothing seems to help. So I caution the kids to stay out of his way for a bit and I do what I can to help him... and I wait it out. Sometimes I wait for a very long time. Last night, I waited for two and a half hours.
That's the ugly part of this. The part you need to know, because you're our friends and because you stand ready to love Seth. This is the trauma that results from children being abandoned and warehoused in low care, low love, low touch, low communication buildings. Massive delays. So massive that we're teaching a six year old how to clap and how to feed himself. We're watching a six year old joyfully doing what a "normal" three year old does. We worry. Of course we do. But we also have assurance from many professionals and friends that he will move beyond this, that he will progress and quickly. He will get better. He will overcome. What exactly that means, we're not sure. But we know he is likely to move beyond where he is today. But just like all of our children, development is a series of steps. Before he can be a happy, well adjusted six year old, he has to first be a happy, well adjusted two, three, four, and five year old. That's the ugly part of this. That's the painful part of this. The reality of what abandonment and institutionalization does to a child spiritually, emotionally, developmentally. The parts that make me cry for him. For this sweet little boy who never asked for any of this.
That's the truth of this.
For those of you not on FB, here's a few pics of our handsome little man:
Forgive me at this point if I sound whiny, because I know this could be so much worse. I know so many who are experiencing worse in an effort to save their child. Adoption is not easy. It is costly. Not just in dollars, but in emotions. It hurts to watch a child hurt. It hurts to heal a child. The stakes are so incredibly high when dealing with Heavenly Father's children. And so incredibly worth it. So I'm telling the details to educate you, help you to understand why I'm so jumpy and protective of him, and to maybe get some advice and counsel from those who have faced similar behaviors.
Truth be told, orphanage life stinks. Period. Being in a wheelchair all day long stinks. Being spoon and bottle fed stinks. Being put back in diapers stinks. Never receiving any schooling stinks. Receiving limited therapy and inadequate healthcare stinks. Never being taught colors, letters, numbers, or shapes stinks. When I say he's delayed, that's an understatement. How could that life and that neglect not have an affect on him?
When we learned that Seth needs glasses badly, someone said "I can't believe someone in his country didn't catch that". Well, I can. Because I highly doubt Seth ever received a vision screening. Nor a dental exam. He's received minimal health care, limited therapy, and no schooling. Truth be told, Seth's life was sustained for six and a half years. They actually took good care of him, physically. In their minds, they even loved him. But in his country, physical disability = mental disability, and mental disability will earn a child a lifetime sentence in a mental institution, with little opportunity for ever getting out. Ever.
In a country that frequently abandons their babies with special needs, the thought that these children would be adoptable and wanted is unheard of. Children with special needs will almost always find themselves in a mental institution sometime before their sixth birthday. So if they are abandoned, and there's little chance of adoption, and they will never be expected to live on their own, why take care of them beyond the most basic needs? Why educate them? Why train them for a job? Why teach them self care skills, preparing them for independent life? Understand, when I say Seth would have never received anything in his country, I mean just that. He received nothing. Nada. Nor would he have.
Children with any kind of special need get a very raw deal in the orphanages, but in my opinion, children who can't walk receive the very worst sentence. While in the baby house, Seth spent most of his days either in a playpen or a stroller, with limited access to other kids or toys, because they consider the floors dirty and won't let children who can't walk play on them. That is bad enough, but once transferred in June, he literally spent three months strapped in a wheelchair, sitting in a circle, watching grown wheelchair-bound men groan and rock and grind their teeth, with no access to anything even remotely stimulating and no one to talk to. My little Seth. My sweet little Seth.
When he was at the baby house, he was considered "of high intellect", could drink from a cup, was potty trained and was almost walking (although still kept in a stroller or playpen). When he was transferred, they took that away from him, gave him a bottle, put him in a diaper and strapped him into the wheelchair, all in an effort to keep mess to a minimum, to mainstream their job and care. He's lucky though. Many who can't walk find themselves confined to a crib. All. Day. Long. Wheelchairs are slightly more stimulating than cribs.
I had recent pics of Seth before he was transferred and reports from several people. I knew what to expect from Seth. That was before his transfer. When we came into the room to meet him for the first time, I did not even recognize him. I had to ask the director which one he was. There he was, strapped into his wheelchair, crumpled over, no life in his eyes, vacant, not willing to make eye contact. Where did my smiley little boy go? What had they done to him?
Over the course of the next five weeks, we drew him back, claimed him again. Re-taught him the skills he had lost. But it really isn't til you grab them, put them in a car, drive away, load them on a plane and fly them for 30 hours to bring them home that the real work begins. The real pain comes out. The real trauma is dealt with. For Seth, that comes out in a couple ways. Both are considered self stimulating behaviors. Stimming for short, these behaviors are coping mechanisms, boredom busters, the product of sensory deprivation, a sign of overstimulation. Theories abound as to why kids who have lived in orphanages do it, but most do. Rocking, head banging, "checking out", flapping hands. All considered "stimming". Seth doesn't do any of these types of stimming.
Seth's stimming looks like a full body, full-on, seizure, but it's not. We know it's not because he can stop for a break, take a snack, be distracted. He does this several times a day, but it makes it rather uncomfortable to take him very far because it's completely unpredictable. I'm learning to accept that this is what he does. This is how he's coped. But it's difficult to watch. It's hard to be comfortable with it. It's even harder to explain. This is how he's survived. He knows no other way to relax, process, fill time, de-stress. It is likely that over time, as he sees better and learns to be more mobile, his stimming will decrease and may even disappear. But for now, this is what it is. So if you see him having what looks like a seizure, don't be alarmed. It's just part of his sweet little package. :)
We have a better handle on his other stimming behavior, but know less how to deal with it. While we don't know what causes his seizure-like stimming, we know his out-of-control laughing is from being overstimulated. This is when he bites, pulls hair and scratches. He is generally a very sweet and loving little boy, but when he's done, he's done, and at that point, we're not sure how much awareness he has. His laugh becomes maniacal and there is little we can do to soothe him because it only overstimulates him more. Leaving him alone, moving him to a quieter place.... nothing seems to help. So I caution the kids to stay out of his way for a bit and I do what I can to help him... and I wait it out. Sometimes I wait for a very long time. Last night, I waited for two and a half hours.
That's the ugly part of this. The part you need to know, because you're our friends and because you stand ready to love Seth. This is the trauma that results from children being abandoned and warehoused in low care, low love, low touch, low communication buildings. Massive delays. So massive that we're teaching a six year old how to clap and how to feed himself. We're watching a six year old joyfully doing what a "normal" three year old does. We worry. Of course we do. But we also have assurance from many professionals and friends that he will move beyond this, that he will progress and quickly. He will get better. He will overcome. What exactly that means, we're not sure. But we know he is likely to move beyond where he is today. But just like all of our children, development is a series of steps. Before he can be a happy, well adjusted six year old, he has to first be a happy, well adjusted two, three, four, and five year old. That's the ugly part of this. That's the painful part of this. The reality of what abandonment and institutionalization does to a child spiritually, emotionally, developmentally. The parts that make me cry for him. For this sweet little boy who never asked for any of this.
That's the truth of this.
For those of you not on FB, here's a few pics of our handsome little man:
Seth, enjoying some sister-love:
Loving his milk:
On his way home from his first time at church:
More sister-love:
Thursday, October 27, 2011
To Welcome Seth Home
Tomorrow, something very significant is going to happen in Seth's life. Seth will be introduced to his siblings and to one set of his grandparents. A child who has never known family will now have six brothers and sisters. His brothers and sisters have never known a child who has spent their life in an orphanage. They don't really know what institutionalization does to a childs spirit. They've never experienced the reality of living with a child who has experienced profound loss. And they've never lived with a child with a special need.
Believe it or not, most orphans are not initially incredibly grateful to be a part of a family. Most do not throw themselves into your arms and express their love and thankfulness. What they do express is years and years of near or outright neglect, abandonment, boredom, understimulation, lack of social skills, manners, and basic life skills. These are not, initially, well adjusted children. These are hurt children. And that hurt manifests itself in a variety of ways as they learn to trust and heal. But this is a process, and it's sometimes painfully slow. And sometimes just plain painful. You have never heard a cry til you hear an orphan cry. :(
To our dear friends and extended family in the Spokane area, we ask that you give us some time to begin to heal Seth, to teach him about love, trust and family. Just like when we have a newborn, it takes time to adjust and find your new groove. We know you all love him, are excited for him to have found his family and are anxious to meet him and welcome him. We love you for that. But please wait. :) Give us time with our "newborn".
We are asking that everyone give us a month before trying to meet Seth. You are welcome to come to our door, but understand when we step outside, rather than having you step in. Please understand when we limit our social schedule, cancel on obligations, and generally make ourselves unavailable so we can make ourselves more available to our children. For the next month, Jeremy and I will be focusing primarily on our six children who have not seen their parents in almost seven weeks, and on Seth. We will be hesitant to commit to anything that is not directly related to one of our children. If it's optional, we probably won't be there. Seth is simply not ready.
If you see us out in public, you are welcome to wave to us and even come up and say hi, but please limit contact with Seth. Remember that this is a child who up until a week ago, had never been outside the walls of his orphanage. He is taking in and processing so much, so fast. It will be overwhelming to him. Something as basic as a trip to the grocery store is brand new to him. He's never been to a park, to church, to a library. He will need to experience each of those and be taught how to behave. That takes time. Please be compassionate. Understand that orphans are not typical childen.
We appreciate you understanding and your cooperation. We are ever so grateful for your prayers and support during this process, and we look forward to sharing an incredible little boy with you when he is ready.
Believe it or not, most orphans are not initially incredibly grateful to be a part of a family. Most do not throw themselves into your arms and express their love and thankfulness. What they do express is years and years of near or outright neglect, abandonment, boredom, understimulation, lack of social skills, manners, and basic life skills. These are not, initially, well adjusted children. These are hurt children. And that hurt manifests itself in a variety of ways as they learn to trust and heal. But this is a process, and it's sometimes painfully slow. And sometimes just plain painful. You have never heard a cry til you hear an orphan cry. :(
To our dear friends and extended family in the Spokane area, we ask that you give us some time to begin to heal Seth, to teach him about love, trust and family. Just like when we have a newborn, it takes time to adjust and find your new groove. We know you all love him, are excited for him to have found his family and are anxious to meet him and welcome him. We love you for that. But please wait. :) Give us time with our "newborn".
We are asking that everyone give us a month before trying to meet Seth. You are welcome to come to our door, but understand when we step outside, rather than having you step in. Please understand when we limit our social schedule, cancel on obligations, and generally make ourselves unavailable so we can make ourselves more available to our children. For the next month, Jeremy and I will be focusing primarily on our six children who have not seen their parents in almost seven weeks, and on Seth. We will be hesitant to commit to anything that is not directly related to one of our children. If it's optional, we probably won't be there. Seth is simply not ready.
If you see us out in public, you are welcome to wave to us and even come up and say hi, but please limit contact with Seth. Remember that this is a child who up until a week ago, had never been outside the walls of his orphanage. He is taking in and processing so much, so fast. It will be overwhelming to him. Something as basic as a trip to the grocery store is brand new to him. He's never been to a park, to church, to a library. He will need to experience each of those and be taught how to behave. That takes time. Please be compassionate. Understand that orphans are not typical childen.
We appreciate you understanding and your cooperation. We are ever so grateful for your prayers and support during this process, and we look forward to sharing an incredible little boy with you when he is ready.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Happy Gotcha Day, Seth!
Day 11 is the happiest day in the adoption process. Day 11 is the day after Day 10, the official end to the ten day wait. The day you can usually go get your child. A day called "Gotcha Day". Day 11, for us, started with a ton of running around and paper work. We had been sweating bullets all week because our judge had said that he would not issue our decree until the following week, on Wednesday, when all decrees are issued for the village. We showed up with a storm of prayers being said on our behalf, prepared to cry, beg and do whatever it took to get him to sign the decree. Everything hinged on that decree. Without it, none of the other paperwork can get started and we couldn't have gotten Seth. When we showed up, our decree was already signed and waiting on his desk. Miracle #1.
We quickly left and ran to the birth certificate office. In this region, birth certificates are difficult to change. It usually takes several days to process the paperwork and five days to mail from one office to the other, an office located four blocks away. Time we just don't have. Our facilitator had told us she was committing the whole day to just getting the birth certificate, and if she could just get that accomplished, she'd be happy. We were in and out of the birth certificate offices, with new birth certificate in hand, by 2:45. Miracle #2.
Next up was the Tax ID office. The lady was very helpful and said we should have our new number within two days. Our facilitator asked her to please do it right away because Seth needs to get home. We walked out with a new tax ID number 15 minutes later. Miracle #3.
Off to the passport office. It was a little after 4:00. We knew the region was out of one day passports so all we really wanted to do was get our application turned in and make an appt for first thing Monday morning. We got our application turned in and have an appt for Seth's picture tomorrow at 9:00am. Also, a promise to try to get our passport to us, in Kiev, on Thursday, rather than the normal five day wait. Miracle #4.
With ten minutes to spare, we raced to the bank to close out Seth's bank account. In his country, each orphan has an account that money is deposited into each month. When the child turns 18, they receive that money to help them get established. If they are adopted before that, the family cashes out the account and can choose to keep the money or donate it to the orphanage. Usually, the money is donated. We agreed the orphanage needs the money far more than we do. We got there and the lady took his bank books. She agreed to fill out the paperwork but said we'd need to come back on Monday for the money. We started on the paperwork. As we finished up, we looked at her and saw that she was counting out the money. She smiled, wished us well, and sent us on our way. Miracle #5.
Five miracles in one day. Our facilitator never expected to get so far. She expected to need all day Monday to finish up the paper chase. Our facilitator was surprised. We were not. It's what we had been praying for. What our friends and family had been praying for. I believed we'd see miracles on Seth's behalf and God showed His hand.
Because of the lateness of the day, we decided to call it a day and get Seth out in the morning, So the next morning, bright and early, we headed out. We pulled in, saw the director, signed paperwork, took treats to all the boys, and went to find Seth. He hadn't seen us the day before, so he was quite happy we were there. And I'm sure he knew something was up. He was so excited he could barely sit still. There were so many adults crammed in the room! We got him out of the wheelchair one last time and changed his clothes.
Our friends from the Source of Life Church were there visiting and asked if they could say prayers for us. They had me, Jeremy and Seth stand in the middle while they encircled us and one after the other, pleaded with Heavenly Father for our quick process, smooth transition, and safe travels. Powerful. With tears in our eyes, we thanked our friends, and then, it was time to go. We hugged boys, cried, shook hands, promised to send pictures. The director wished us well and expressed his gratitude for the life Seth was being given. He said he wants to be invited to Seth's wedding. :) And on that note, we said goodbye, climbed in the car and drove away from the only life Seth has known. As we looked back, one of the teenage boys, Volvo, was following us on his bike. A reminder that there are still boys behind those gates. Boys needing and wanting out.
So how is Seth doing? He's doing well. He is a sweet, sweet boy. He loves to cuddle. He is very content to explore on his own. Opening and closing doors and drawers. He's a good sleeper. He goes to sleep by 8:00 and gets up around 6:00. He is used to going to bed on his own. For bonding purposes, we choose to lay with him. He is happy and affectionate, is trusting and is a good eater. But he's going through loss. Because as cruddy as his life was, it was his "normal". It's all he knows. And we're in the process of once again, for the last time, completely turning his world upside down. I'm sure he's nervous and scared. Confused. And his mommy and daddy don't even speak his language. We are learning to comfort a little boy coming from institutional care, and all the emotional baggage that it entails. How do you heal a child like this? The same way you comfort and love any child. Unconditionally, without pre-conceived expectations, without judgement, with your whole heart.
Happy Gotcha Day, Seth!! Welcome to our family.
How do you rescue 147 million orphans? One child at a time.
** I'd post pics, but we don't have a good enough internet connection right now. We are going to Kiev tomorrow and I will be posting pics shortly. :)
We quickly left and ran to the birth certificate office. In this region, birth certificates are difficult to change. It usually takes several days to process the paperwork and five days to mail from one office to the other, an office located four blocks away. Time we just don't have. Our facilitator had told us she was committing the whole day to just getting the birth certificate, and if she could just get that accomplished, she'd be happy. We were in and out of the birth certificate offices, with new birth certificate in hand, by 2:45. Miracle #2.
Next up was the Tax ID office. The lady was very helpful and said we should have our new number within two days. Our facilitator asked her to please do it right away because Seth needs to get home. We walked out with a new tax ID number 15 minutes later. Miracle #3.
Off to the passport office. It was a little after 4:00. We knew the region was out of one day passports so all we really wanted to do was get our application turned in and make an appt for first thing Monday morning. We got our application turned in and have an appt for Seth's picture tomorrow at 9:00am. Also, a promise to try to get our passport to us, in Kiev, on Thursday, rather than the normal five day wait. Miracle #4.
With ten minutes to spare, we raced to the bank to close out Seth's bank account. In his country, each orphan has an account that money is deposited into each month. When the child turns 18, they receive that money to help them get established. If they are adopted before that, the family cashes out the account and can choose to keep the money or donate it to the orphanage. Usually, the money is donated. We agreed the orphanage needs the money far more than we do. We got there and the lady took his bank books. She agreed to fill out the paperwork but said we'd need to come back on Monday for the money. We started on the paperwork. As we finished up, we looked at her and saw that she was counting out the money. She smiled, wished us well, and sent us on our way. Miracle #5.
Five miracles in one day. Our facilitator never expected to get so far. She expected to need all day Monday to finish up the paper chase. Our facilitator was surprised. We were not. It's what we had been praying for. What our friends and family had been praying for. I believed we'd see miracles on Seth's behalf and God showed His hand.
Because of the lateness of the day, we decided to call it a day and get Seth out in the morning, So the next morning, bright and early, we headed out. We pulled in, saw the director, signed paperwork, took treats to all the boys, and went to find Seth. He hadn't seen us the day before, so he was quite happy we were there. And I'm sure he knew something was up. He was so excited he could barely sit still. There were so many adults crammed in the room! We got him out of the wheelchair one last time and changed his clothes.
Our friends from the Source of Life Church were there visiting and asked if they could say prayers for us. They had me, Jeremy and Seth stand in the middle while they encircled us and one after the other, pleaded with Heavenly Father for our quick process, smooth transition, and safe travels. Powerful. With tears in our eyes, we thanked our friends, and then, it was time to go. We hugged boys, cried, shook hands, promised to send pictures. The director wished us well and expressed his gratitude for the life Seth was being given. He said he wants to be invited to Seth's wedding. :) And on that note, we said goodbye, climbed in the car and drove away from the only life Seth has known. As we looked back, one of the teenage boys, Volvo, was following us on his bike. A reminder that there are still boys behind those gates. Boys needing and wanting out.
So how is Seth doing? He's doing well. He is a sweet, sweet boy. He loves to cuddle. He is very content to explore on his own. Opening and closing doors and drawers. He's a good sleeper. He goes to sleep by 8:00 and gets up around 6:00. He is used to going to bed on his own. For bonding purposes, we choose to lay with him. He is happy and affectionate, is trusting and is a good eater. But he's going through loss. Because as cruddy as his life was, it was his "normal". It's all he knows. And we're in the process of once again, for the last time, completely turning his world upside down. I'm sure he's nervous and scared. Confused. And his mommy and daddy don't even speak his language. We are learning to comfort a little boy coming from institutional care, and all the emotional baggage that it entails. How do you heal a child like this? The same way you comfort and love any child. Unconditionally, without pre-conceived expectations, without judgement, with your whole heart.
Happy Gotcha Day, Seth!! Welcome to our family.
How do you rescue 147 million orphans? One child at a time.
** I'd post pics, but we don't have a good enough internet connection right now. We are going to Kiev tomorrow and I will be posting pics shortly. :)
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Amazing transformations and the power of love
In just over a month, Seth has went from not being able to sit up unassisted, not even crawling, not tracking movement or making eye contact, his legs being stiff and his feet at a hard point, to this:
Look how pleased he is! All he needed was a chance. And to get out of the wheelchair he's been in for three straight months. We haven't taught him anything. He knew it. We've massaged, stretched, let him out of the wheelchair, gotten out of his way and given him room to soar. He's done the rest. He knows what he wants to do. We sit back and watch him, absolutely amazed at his determination! He just needed a chance. And a family to believe in him.
Flexing to a flat foot (not bearing weight yet):
Refusing a wheelchair and instead, sitting up, unassisted in a chair to eat his apple:
Sitting cross legged on the floor:
Monday, October 10, 2011
Our day in court- Take 2
So, the good news is that two jurors showed up and neither was intoxicated. :) That's always a good start to a court. Also, unlike last time, the judge was on time and was super efficient in getting things moving. He was not messing around. Honestly, we like the judge. He seems like a good man. He's just nervous because this is his first adoption, and he's a stickler for rules and timelines, and that is frustrating our facilitator who is trying to get Seth out of the institution and us home.
Court started off pretty much like our court on Friday. They hit Jeremy with a few questions that were mostly repeats, but then got into a few that we didn't expect.
They asked him if he could afford to adopt Seth. He said yes.
They asked him if we had room in our house. He said yes.
They asked how our other children felt about us adopting this child with a "difficult" special need? Jeremy said they already love him.
They asked how Jeremy thought that I could handle a child with a difficult special need. Jeremy said "the same way she handles the other six".
They asked him if he realized a child with a special need is difficult (do you notice a trend here?). Jeremy said yes.
They said "How can your wife have time to be a mother to this boy when she has six other children and a business?". Jeremy turned around and looked at me and said "Because she's a WONDERFUL mother".
Dead silence...... Have I mentioned how much I love him?
Then they called me up. On Friday, they only asked me one question. Today, they grilled me.
How did we find him?
Why a child with a special need?
Why, when that would be difficult?
How big is our house?
Where would Aleksey (his real name) sleep?
With who would he sleep?
And the kicker- how would I divide my love with yet another child. I told them love isn't divided, that we have a capacity to love far greater than we realize, and loving Aleksey in no way detracts from the overwhelming love I have for my other children.
Would I be able to love him as I love our other children? I told them I already do.
The inspector (social worker) stated that children need to be in families and that in America, Aleksey can get therapy, healthcare and an education that is just not available to children with special needs in Ukraine. The director of his institution said that he and the caregivers have seen big improvements in Aleksey's health since we've started visiting, that he waits for us and gets excited when he sees us and seems anxious when we aren't there. We've only missed one visit and that's because they closed the road to his institution. He said he very much wants Aleksey to be adopted by our family, that we make Aleksey happy and can give him care that Ukraine cannot.
We showed them our photo book of our family and a slideshow of our time with Aleksey, 21 pictures showing his progression with us from when we met him to now. Undeniable proof that we love Aleksey and Aleksey loves us.
Finally, they recessed and thankfully, it was not for the two hours the judge needed on Friday. In fact, it was about ten minutes. They came back, got down to business and said they agreed to approve our petition for adoption. Relief!! Huge relief. And tears. Because at that point, I was rattled enough to be very unsure how they'd rule.
So the new glitch is really very minor and I have full confidence in our facilitator to handle it. There is a customary 10 day wait that is never waived in this region. In fact, there is only one region in all of Ukraine where that is waived. We aren't in it. We knew that and didn't even ask. The purpose of the 10 day wait is to see if any family steps forward to protest. Since Seth's mother gave up rights when he was 2, and since he has had absolutely no visits or contact in his life, they will not be contacted and this isn't a problem. The other reason for the 10 day wait is procedural, to give them time to file and process all paperwork. Our 10 day wait ends on Oct 20th, so we should be able to get him out on the 21st. However, in his region, they only file decrees on Wednesdays. The judge said we will need to wait til the following Wednesday, Oct 26th, to pick up the decree and get him out. Our facilitator is on this, to do everything in her power to get him out on the 21st or the following Monday, at the latest, and we trust her to do this. There is little doubt in my mind that she will get her way. :) It pays to have a bulldog for a facilitator. Whatever. Just get the boy out.
Here we are, in front of the court house, right after our hearing. Happy parents, one more time:
Thursday, October 6, 2011
In case you're still wondering
In case you're still wondering if it's all worth it, to save one little boy, when so many
children continue to exist in orphanages, take a look at yesterday.
children continue to exist in orphanages, take a look at yesterday.
First time on a teeter tooter:
Pure joy!!
Still think it doesn't matter? It matters to him.
You're right. Jeremy and I can't save them all.
Consider what you can do for a child.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
God's amazing and perfect plan for families
I've thought a lot this week about delays and how to overcome them. I've wondered at how quickly Seth will be able to catch up or if he even will be able to catch up in all areas. I've thought about what puts a child in this position, and what is the biggest reason for what he has to overcome. We expected Seth to be delayed. We knew orphanage life was not condusive to raising a healthy, well adjusted, well rounded, academically over achieving child. :) We expected him to be a somewhat typical 4 year old.
What we were unprepared for is the results of institutionalization. We thought he'd know how to play with legos and color. We assumed he'd know how to turn the pages of a book or cuddle a stuffed animal. Not so. But even more surprising and startling than that is that we've had to teach him basic things. Things I never even realized we taught children. Things like making eye contact, or even looking our way when we call his name, to visually track things, to respond to sounds. We did not expect to have to teach him proper displays of emotion. Specifically, how to trust enough to cry rather than laugh. How to allow someone to hold you when you get an owie. How to receive comfort. Right now, when he gets hurt, he laughs and pushes me aside. Receiving comfort takes trust. Something he isn't prepared to give yet. So he doesn't. Right now, he laughs for any emotion he feels. Heartbreaking that a little boy can't cry. Because he can't trust. I wasn't prepared for that. I wasn't prepared for the emotional devastation that results from abandonment, orphanage life, transfer and institutionalization.
I've spent some time considering life in healthy families. Even moderately healthy families. Even somewhat dysfuntional families. In almost every scenario I can think of, children will get at least enough contact and attention, enough stimuli, to make the necessary steps to begin forming bonds, emotional connections and the building blocks to semi productive relationships. It just happens. We give our children so much, without even realizing what we do. It's instinct. We respond when they cry. We cuddle them when they need it. We provide appropriate toys and experiences to help them develop. We talk to them. We listen to them. We don't even consider the foundation this is laying.
So how bad does life have to be for those building blocks to not have been laid? How neglectful must his childhood have been that I now have a sensory deprived, emotionally challenged, eye contact avoiding six year old on my hands? And what could have been done to avoid this?
God has a plan. A plan for His children. That plan includes a family for every child. In His plan, children don't get abandoned. Children are not rejected. Children are cherished and loved and taught, and are given what they need to continue on and have a healthy family of their own. In His perfect plan, that is the way it works. And there is amazing wisdom in that plan. We are now dealing with the ramifications of what happens when mothers, instead, choose abandment and rejection. The children suffer. And they suffer mightly. They suffer more than I ever comprehended. I always understood the Lord's plan for families. I always knew of it's truthfulness. But until I experienced, firsthand, what happens when that plan fails in such huge disasterous proportions such as this, I did not fully comprehend the beauty and the simplicity of the most basic builing block of the Lord's church- family.
Parents, love your children. Hold them close. Cherish them. Forgive them. Whatever they require to be whole, be prepared to give them that, and more. Jeremy and I are now in the business of healing a child. A very traumatized and fragile child. We are honored to be called upon to do this. Seth is amazing. The progress he's already made is astounding. Love heals. Love conquers. Family is absolutely central to the Creator's plan. My testimony of that has never, ever been stronger, because I've never before witnessed what happens to a child when that system has so completely failed. Please continue to keep Seth in your prayers as we work so very hard to shower him with the love he's lacked his entire life, to heal a little boy. To bring hope to a child's life. Pray for him.
What we were unprepared for is the results of institutionalization. We thought he'd know how to play with legos and color. We assumed he'd know how to turn the pages of a book or cuddle a stuffed animal. Not so. But even more surprising and startling than that is that we've had to teach him basic things. Things I never even realized we taught children. Things like making eye contact, or even looking our way when we call his name, to visually track things, to respond to sounds. We did not expect to have to teach him proper displays of emotion. Specifically, how to trust enough to cry rather than laugh. How to allow someone to hold you when you get an owie. How to receive comfort. Right now, when he gets hurt, he laughs and pushes me aside. Receiving comfort takes trust. Something he isn't prepared to give yet. So he doesn't. Right now, he laughs for any emotion he feels. Heartbreaking that a little boy can't cry. Because he can't trust. I wasn't prepared for that. I wasn't prepared for the emotional devastation that results from abandonment, orphanage life, transfer and institutionalization.
I've spent some time considering life in healthy families. Even moderately healthy families. Even somewhat dysfuntional families. In almost every scenario I can think of, children will get at least enough contact and attention, enough stimuli, to make the necessary steps to begin forming bonds, emotional connections and the building blocks to semi productive relationships. It just happens. We give our children so much, without even realizing what we do. It's instinct. We respond when they cry. We cuddle them when they need it. We provide appropriate toys and experiences to help them develop. We talk to them. We listen to them. We don't even consider the foundation this is laying.
So how bad does life have to be for those building blocks to not have been laid? How neglectful must his childhood have been that I now have a sensory deprived, emotionally challenged, eye contact avoiding six year old on my hands? And what could have been done to avoid this?
God has a plan. A plan for His children. That plan includes a family for every child. In His plan, children don't get abandoned. Children are not rejected. Children are cherished and loved and taught, and are given what they need to continue on and have a healthy family of their own. In His perfect plan, that is the way it works. And there is amazing wisdom in that plan. We are now dealing with the ramifications of what happens when mothers, instead, choose abandment and rejection. The children suffer. And they suffer mightly. They suffer more than I ever comprehended. I always understood the Lord's plan for families. I always knew of it's truthfulness. But until I experienced, firsthand, what happens when that plan fails in such huge disasterous proportions such as this, I did not fully comprehend the beauty and the simplicity of the most basic builing block of the Lord's church- family.
Parents, love your children. Hold them close. Cherish them. Forgive them. Whatever they require to be whole, be prepared to give them that, and more. Jeremy and I are now in the business of healing a child. A very traumatized and fragile child. We are honored to be called upon to do this. Seth is amazing. The progress he's already made is astounding. Love heals. Love conquers. Family is absolutely central to the Creator's plan. My testimony of that has never, ever been stronger, because I've never before witnessed what happens to a child when that system has so completely failed. Please continue to keep Seth in your prayers as we work so very hard to shower him with the love he's lacked his entire life, to heal a little boy. To bring hope to a child's life. Pray for him.
Friday, September 23, 2011
What a difference a week makes
Jeremy and I met Seth a week ago, today. We knew he had been transferred to a mental institution in June. Not because he was mentally challenged, but because he was physically challenged. We expected him to have regressed a bit and to be delayed due to living his life in orphanages. We expected a 3-4 year old. What we got blew us away.
Very few of our initial pictures have me in them. That's because in all of them, I look sad, concerned and like I was about to cry. I was. We learned that Seth had spent a better part of three months sitting in a wheelchair, All. Day. Long. Just sitting. No toys. No play time. No real interaction. When we met Seth, he was unable to look us in the eye. He would not track anything. He would not even look towards a sound. He couldn't feed himself at all. He could not hold his own cup. He did not know what to do with a hot wheel. Or any other toy for that matter. It didn't even occur to him to play with them. He could not sit up unassisted. He could not crawl or pull himself to a stand. He hadn't talked in three months. He licked everything. It was like an extra appendage for him, taking in stimulation in any way possible. Everything went to his mouth for closer inspection. We spent an hour and a half with him, swinging and holding him. Trying to get him to connect with us, acknowledge our presence, in any way. Finally, he gave us a very brief look, and looked away. He didn't seem to care when we arrived. He didn't seem to register when we left. Heart breaking.
After a week's worth of visits and 35 hours spent with him, Seth has made remarkable progress. He will now look at us and smile or laugh. He won't maintain eye contact for very long though. He is too busy looking around to be bothered. :) He will follow a toy as we roll it across the room. He will even crawl after it. He will look to see who has entered a room. He can feed himself finger foods. He can even hold a plate and pick bites up, one at a time, rather than cramming them all in his mouth at once. He can hold his own open mouth cup. In fact, he has learned to blow bubbles, much to our dismay. He finds this particularly amusing.
We expected to meet a little boy much like the boy at the top of my blog. Instead we found a very fragile, very traumatized toddler. He was not starved for food. He was starved for mental stimulation. He was starved for love. He was starved for a family. He has one now. And we are so excited to see what improvements tomorrow will bring. :)
Very few of our initial pictures have me in them. That's because in all of them, I look sad, concerned and like I was about to cry. I was. We learned that Seth had spent a better part of three months sitting in a wheelchair, All. Day. Long. Just sitting. No toys. No play time. No real interaction. When we met Seth, he was unable to look us in the eye. He would not track anything. He would not even look towards a sound. He couldn't feed himself at all. He could not hold his own cup. He did not know what to do with a hot wheel. Or any other toy for that matter. It didn't even occur to him to play with them. He could not sit up unassisted. He could not crawl or pull himself to a stand. He hadn't talked in three months. He licked everything. It was like an extra appendage for him, taking in stimulation in any way possible. Everything went to his mouth for closer inspection. We spent an hour and a half with him, swinging and holding him. Trying to get him to connect with us, acknowledge our presence, in any way. Finally, he gave us a very brief look, and looked away. He didn't seem to care when we arrived. He didn't seem to register when we left. Heart breaking.
After a week's worth of visits and 35 hours spent with him, Seth has made remarkable progress. He will now look at us and smile or laugh. He won't maintain eye contact for very long though. He is too busy looking around to be bothered. :) He will follow a toy as we roll it across the room. He will even crawl after it. He will look to see who has entered a room. He can feed himself finger foods. He can even hold a plate and pick bites up, one at a time, rather than cramming them all in his mouth at once. He can hold his own open mouth cup. In fact, he has learned to blow bubbles, much to our dismay. He finds this particularly amusing.
He is playing more with toys. His hand eye coordination is still a bit rocky. He can't quite turn the pages of a book, but he tries. He will easily reach out for a toy that he wants now. He can sit with minimal assistance, although this is hard for him. He can easily sit in a W position, and he can face backwards on a bench with his feet dangling down. The fact that he has limited range of motion in his hips likely complicates sitting on the floor. He crawls all over the place and will pull himself to a stand. He cannot stand flat footed and Shriners will have to address that in order to get him walking.
He makes lots of sounds now, including mmmmm when he likes his food. Once he said mama. And we think he babbled quite a bit in Ukrainian the other day, but we're not sure. He was talking Ukrainian mumble again today. We hope that they are actual words, but if not, he is at least making sounds. He still licks some things, but not as much. Now, he uses his hands to touch everything. EvErYtHiNg. He opens and shuts drawers and doors over and over again, touches walls as we pass, runs his hands over books. He cannot touch enough. He cannot drink it in fast enough. He reaches up for us when we walk in every morning and he smiles and laughs when we say "priveet". Yesterday, he cried when we left. He knows when we come and go now, and more importantly, he cares.
Five days ago, we took him behind the institution to see the farm and he really couldn't have cared less. Today we took him again and he leaned forward to put his hands on the fence, eager to try to reach the cows and the chickens. I held the puppy that he wouldn't acknowledge a few days ago and felt such happiness when he reached out and patted its head.
Monday, September 19, 2011
This boy is determined!
All I can say is WOW!! Jeremy and I arrived at Seth's orphanage on Friday to find him... well.... not in good shape. We quickly realized he'd been more or less sitting in his wheelchair for three months straight. No floor time, no time with toys, no play time with other kids. Just sitting and looking at other kids, sitting. Heart breaking. When he left his baby house he was sitting up unassisted, feeding himself, drinking from a cup, pulling himself to a stand. All skills that were lost. After we got over our shock, we got to work, and every day, this boy makes significant progress. He is one determined little boy. On Saturday, I had to teach him how to feed himself again. By Sunday, he wouldn't let me help. On Saturday, I placed his little hands on the sides of his cup. On Sunday, he shooed my hands away and held his cup by himself. He works each day on sitting up and is able to do it for longer and longer periods. It's amazing how quickly your muscles will atrophy when not in use. But today... today, he surprised us both. Today, he crawled over to Jeremy, looked up, put his hands in Jeremy's hands, strengthened his resolve, mustered his energy, and without any assistant other than balance from Jeremy, did this:
He stood up. After three months of being confined to a wheelchair, he stood up on his own. Because he knew he could. Because he wanted to show us he could. This kid has persistance. He. Won't. Give. Up!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Meet Seth....
If you're our facebook friends, you've probably already seen these pictures, but just in case you aren't, we wanted to post a few pics of our high points of the past couple days. We have been able to meet Seth and have started the processes to finalize his adoption and build those bridges to help him start from where he's at and move forward. There is much work to be done. Institutionalization is never a good way to raise a child. As we expected, he is delayed in every way, some more significant than others. We were prepared for this. We went into this with our eyes wide open. We are re-claiming our son, back from institutionalized life, and it will be hard work, but he is worth it. A child is always, always worth it.
Seth loves to cuddle. He loves physical touch. He is such a sweet, sweet little boy. We will have many hours of snuggles with this little guy!
Whoa, can this kid put down some food!!
Yummy food, followed by yummy apple juice!
It's okay, sweet little man. We've got you now.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Ukrainian culture and the SDA
But first, a couple more apartment shots. I want to show you the tiny washer and the cute kitchen. Really, it is pretty charming. I think the kitchen is my favorite room. But it is small. Bedroom/ living room, bathroom and kitchen. That's all. Fine for Jeremy and I but consider that Ukrainians live in places this small, with their whole families. This isn't a hotel the way we envision hotels. Lots of tenants buy or rent these and live here year round. Some, like ours, are rented out on an individual bases. Whoever lives in them are responsible for upkeep and improvements, so even though the halls and elevators are pretty old, the apartments themselves can be very nice. It depends on who live in them and how they decorate and care for it.
So here's the bathroom, with the washer. Imagine doing the laundry I usually have to do at home....
And the kitchen. The stove scares me. It's gas. The first night, I was going to be ambitious and cook. Jeremy grabbed the lighter and turned on the gas and I envisioned the whole place going up in flames. I quickly decided that maybe sandwiches would be a better dinner option. Oiy!
Quaint cobblestone roads line much of the town, especially the downtown area:
Ukrainians are CrAzY drivers. They drive on sidewalks too, and park anywhere. They double park, park on sidewalks, will stop in the middle of the road. It's a little insane! This is a typical parking area:
Properally dubbed "Russ-bucks" by another adopting family, this little cafe is quite the happening spot:
Steet musicians in traditional Ukrainian garb:
Lots and lots of street vendors in the downtown area. I'll have to spend more time looking when I don't have a facilitator needing us to hurry back. :)
A sweet little group of babuskas allowed me to take their picture. Once again, in more traditional Ukrainian clothing.
Another pretty (and probably famous) cathedral:
Judging from the amount of security surrounding this building, Jeremy and I assumed it was fairly important. Turns out it's the Department of Foreign Ministry.
More crazy Ukrainian parking. Now I know why our facilitators have us use drivers...
Street vendors line the street where the SDA building is. Probably because foreigners (i.e. tourists) line the SDA building:
Sign at the SDA building. I find it somewhat humorous (and a little sad) that orphans are lumped in with sports:
Side gate you go through to get to the office:
Through this door:
Up those stairs:
We had a pic of us with our facilitator, Serge, but it's not on the camera. Friends of ours took one of us too, as a back up. Thank goodness they did. I'll add that later. Until then, here's a pic of our dinner.... fine, traditional Ukrainian cuisine. :)
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