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:
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