The past several days have oscillated wildly between peaceful and burdensome, manageable and overwhelming. Some days Kami does well, objectively speaking, but I struggle to find the desire to pursue bonding because it can feel like such hard work. Other days she is in tears most of the day, fighting against everything in this new life. Still other days are surprisingly peaceful because she's found a new interest. The newest interest is none other than the book - her Bulgaria scrapbook.
I decided in an instant one morning that it was a good day to show her the pictures from trip one, when we met her February. It's been close to four months since pickup, and this was honestly the first time it had occurred to me to show her the book. I don't know if we did that right - maybe it would have helped her had we played her orphanage songs (they're on YouTube, how weird is that?), consistently used our few Bulgarian words, and shown her photo flashcards of our trips every day. But Mason and I felt the need to make a clean break, probably for our (my) own sanity but also so she would understand that she wasn't going back. She wanted so badly to return to the orphanage during our stay in Sofia while the adoption paperwork was finalized. And I couldn't stand those songs. I realize that may sound self-serving and inconsiderate towards this traumatized child, but I needed to do what I could to get back to a healthy mental state for the sake of all my children, as well as our marriage. I wonder how Kami will look back on the world-rocking transition from orphanage to family - I can only hope that she will be able to view it through the eyes of grace. We had no idea what we were doing.
But regardless of whether or not we did that transition "right," it was time to show Kamelia her book. I opened it up and paged through it for her until a picture caught her eye. When I say it caught her eye, I mean she focused in on that image, looked at me with wide eyes, then back at the image, and seemed to be trying to will herself into the very page. She was amazed, thrilled, and fascinated. She wanted words to explain and understand how her old life had somehow become a small flat picture in a book. She would have stayed sitting on our bed all day poring over it if I hadn't brought it out into the family room, where she plopped down with it on the couch and continued to study it in awe. The photo is of the orphanage building with part of the playground visible. Suddenly I wished I had taken dozens of photos of the playground as we passed by the fence on our way to the front steps. I find myself eagerly anticipating the day she can verbalize her memories from that playground. I tried to brainstorm with her what she may have done there and said the Bulgarian word for swing and she dreamily repeated "luzh, luzh..." And for an instant I felt like a horrible mother for not showing this to her sooner, but then I realized that I had forgotten this book even existed amidst the upside-down-ness of the last 4 months. To be honest, I've been struggling to survive and consistently show her unconditional love, not thinking of ways to help her feel connected to her homeland by birth!
She wanted the book to physically cover her like a blanket, spread across her lap. She would get up from meals to go make sure it was open to the proper page and start to panic if she couldn't find the picture. This led to a great new sentence we are working on: "Momma, will you please help me find my orphanage picture?" She wants to have a full conversation about this book and what she sees, but for now it's contained to a wide-eyed stare straight into my eyes with the words "Buh-gah-ya" and "Meh-ka" (Bulgaria and America). I am quite excited about her eagerness to engage on this topic and have begun to tell her the whole story in a conversational way, so there will be no surprises as she learns English and gains comprehension.
It's helped me to see her with this book because it reminds me that place was real. It still exists, full of children like her. It's so easy in our clean, toy-filled, love-filled mansion of a home to begin to hold her to unrealistic healthy-American-child standards. Yes, she is surrounded by love and plenty now, but she still carries in her the messages that she received in the institution, and these will take more than four months to undo.
I decided in an instant one morning that it was a good day to show her the pictures from trip one, when we met her February. It's been close to four months since pickup, and this was honestly the first time it had occurred to me to show her the book. I don't know if we did that right - maybe it would have helped her had we played her orphanage songs (they're on YouTube, how weird is that?), consistently used our few Bulgarian words, and shown her photo flashcards of our trips every day. But Mason and I felt the need to make a clean break, probably for our (my) own sanity but also so she would understand that she wasn't going back. She wanted so badly to return to the orphanage during our stay in Sofia while the adoption paperwork was finalized. And I couldn't stand those songs. I realize that may sound self-serving and inconsiderate towards this traumatized child, but I needed to do what I could to get back to a healthy mental state for the sake of all my children, as well as our marriage. I wonder how Kami will look back on the world-rocking transition from orphanage to family - I can only hope that she will be able to view it through the eyes of grace. We had no idea what we were doing.
But regardless of whether or not we did that transition "right," it was time to show Kamelia her book. I opened it up and paged through it for her until a picture caught her eye. When I say it caught her eye, I mean she focused in on that image, looked at me with wide eyes, then back at the image, and seemed to be trying to will herself into the very page. She was amazed, thrilled, and fascinated. She wanted words to explain and understand how her old life had somehow become a small flat picture in a book. She would have stayed sitting on our bed all day poring over it if I hadn't brought it out into the family room, where she plopped down with it on the couch and continued to study it in awe. The photo is of the orphanage building with part of the playground visible. Suddenly I wished I had taken dozens of photos of the playground as we passed by the fence on our way to the front steps. I find myself eagerly anticipating the day she can verbalize her memories from that playground. I tried to brainstorm with her what she may have done there and said the Bulgarian word for swing and she dreamily repeated "luzh, luzh..." And for an instant I felt like a horrible mother for not showing this to her sooner, but then I realized that I had forgotten this book even existed amidst the upside-down-ness of the last 4 months. To be honest, I've been struggling to survive and consistently show her unconditional love, not thinking of ways to help her feel connected to her homeland by birth!
She wanted the book to physically cover her like a blanket, spread across her lap. She would get up from meals to go make sure it was open to the proper page and start to panic if she couldn't find the picture. This led to a great new sentence we are working on: "Momma, will you please help me find my orphanage picture?" She wants to have a full conversation about this book and what she sees, but for now it's contained to a wide-eyed stare straight into my eyes with the words "Buh-gah-ya" and "Meh-ka" (Bulgaria and America). I am quite excited about her eagerness to engage on this topic and have begun to tell her the whole story in a conversational way, so there will be no surprises as she learns English and gains comprehension.
It's helped me to see her with this book because it reminds me that place was real. It still exists, full of children like her. It's so easy in our clean, toy-filled, love-filled mansion of a home to begin to hold her to unrealistic healthy-American-child standards. Yes, she is surrounded by love and plenty now, but she still carries in her the messages that she received in the institution, and these will take more than four months to undo.
However, may I tell you some encouraging news about her? Just in the past few days she's begun to engage more. She wants to talk more than she can just yet. Sometimes at the table she will look at me and say "talk" as if she wants to chat about something over lunch. The funny thing is, she's said this to me before while I've been iMessaging at the table...oops. Time to put away the device and talk!
She willingly repeats word-by-word any sentence we teach her, knowing that this will streamline her process of getting what she desires. Last week at breakfast she surprised us all by spouting off "May-I-pees-have-more-food?" We were thrilled! Six words, all together, at the proper time! A large part of our excitement at moments like this comes from the long list of mental/behavioral diagnoses on her file, including moderate mental retardation and an extremely low IQ. While she is very, very delayed developmentally from growing up in an institution, she shows promise every day of becoming a communicative, socially appropriate individual. She's learning to sit like a lady at the table with her feet in front of her, using only one hand and wiping her hands and mouth when she is finished. She's very receptive to this instruction now, though at first she was resistant. It helped when she finally understood that screaming at the table led to a prompt exit from said table, and since said table holds the food, she's found plenty of motivation to eat like a "way-dee." Also encouraging is the evidence that discipline has begun to cultivate her self-control. I can see her becoming upset (for example, if Isaiah is holding the toy she wants or I tell her it's not quite time to go outside), then self-regulate and choose another activity. I should have prefaced that with the admission that Mason and I have made many mistakes in the discipline department. There is no easy, prescribed way to teach love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control to a 7-year-old who had never consistently experienced any of those things and probably had no idea what they looked or felt like. By God's grace alone, she has responded well to our instruction, but we can take no credit for that because it's God's words that have penetrated her heart and have begun to change her from the inside out. His words are also the only reins that have the power to keep my temper under control during intense standoffs.
Friends, thank you for your prayers, and please keep on praying.
Anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person.
The old life is gone; a new life has begun!
2 Corinthians 5:17
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