Almost six months have somehow passed since we traveled to Bulgaria to get Kami. I don't think I have ever been so relieved to turn the page to a new year! As I look out across 2015 I feel overwhelmed, in a good way, by the freedom I see ahead.
I am the closest relationship Kami has ever experienced in her life. It's obvious that the five of us, Mason, me, and our other three, are closer to her now than anyone else has ever been, but I say I am her closest because I am her most consistent caretaker. I oversee almost all her daily activities, feed her almost every meal, and am training and bonding with her during the workday while Mason is gone. Because of this, she tries to push me away in subtle ways to see how I will react. I'm sure she wants to test the boundaries to see if I will stick around. She rarely refuses a hug or completely spurns my affection, but she does try to irritate me. There's literature suggesting that some children from hard places don't possess the neurological connections to understand and obey simple directions. Not so in Kamelia's case. The vast majority of times, she obviously knows exactly what she is supposed to do, and this particular week has been interesting because she has been pushing the limits on the littlest things. I won't give you the examples because they'd sound as absurd to you as the things that your family members do to annoy you may sound to me. When she's simply seeking to annoy me, I can ignore the behavior easily enough. But when she's glaring straight at me while defiantly doing the very thing I have just reminded her not to do (for the tenth time in one day), it gets harder to maintain my usually chipper tone. If I may get super real with you here, there is a big difference in the way I instinctively respond to my chubby, fluffy haired 2-year-old versus my ever taller and healthier looking 7-year-old (I realize that inside, there is much damage still to be repaired, regardless of how much healthier she looks on the outside!). If they were caught in identical mischief-working scenarios, here's how it may go: Isaiah would flash his winning grin or pathetic pout and get a laugh, a hug and the gentlest redirection from me. Kami's firmly set jaw, defiant eyes and amused chuckle would not elicit the same warm response. I left the book of Jude open on the kitchen counter this week. It reminded me every time I walked by that I no longer live according to natural instinct because God's Spirit lives in me (Jude 19). There is absolutely no room for my instinctive response, but only for the response of careful training and instruction that is my responsibility as her mother. In the words of John the Baptist, "He must increase, but I must decrease." (John 3:30)
Living together for six months can bond you to someone. It was very awkward parenting a complete stranger, and it was really, really hard to start out a parenting journey with fight-or-flight surges rather than warm, nurturing feelings. As a new adoptive mom to a child from a very hard place, I've moved through stages of compassion, frustration, fear, anger, acceptance and hope (sometimes all in one day) in my relation to her. I finally feel parental enough to open her bedroom door at regular intervals to check on her at night, making sure she is staying in bed and doing well. Up until recently I've felt almost like she was a guest staying in our home, and I dared not intrude on her while she was going to sleep. This naturally made it difficult to enforce bedtime rules such as staying in bed and leaving the toys alone. I've been trying to keep in mind the helpful advice to put feelings in the backseat, and it helped me justify my lack of them, but praise God - the feelings train is finally starting to catch up. I know I'm using the word feeling alot because it feels good to finally have some feelings to support this new relationship, but the truth is that it doesn't matter if I feel like loving as Christ loves. I'm called to do it anyway.
I am the closest relationship Kami has ever experienced in her life. It's obvious that the five of us, Mason, me, and our other three, are closer to her now than anyone else has ever been, but I say I am her closest because I am her most consistent caretaker. I oversee almost all her daily activities, feed her almost every meal, and am training and bonding with her during the workday while Mason is gone. Because of this, she tries to push me away in subtle ways to see how I will react. I'm sure she wants to test the boundaries to see if I will stick around. She rarely refuses a hug or completely spurns my affection, but she does try to irritate me. There's literature suggesting that some children from hard places don't possess the neurological connections to understand and obey simple directions. Not so in Kamelia's case. The vast majority of times, she obviously knows exactly what she is supposed to do, and this particular week has been interesting because she has been pushing the limits on the littlest things. I won't give you the examples because they'd sound as absurd to you as the things that your family members do to annoy you may sound to me. When she's simply seeking to annoy me, I can ignore the behavior easily enough. But when she's glaring straight at me while defiantly doing the very thing I have just reminded her not to do (for the tenth time in one day), it gets harder to maintain my usually chipper tone. If I may get super real with you here, there is a big difference in the way I instinctively respond to my chubby, fluffy haired 2-year-old versus my ever taller and healthier looking 7-year-old (I realize that inside, there is much damage still to be repaired, regardless of how much healthier she looks on the outside!). If they were caught in identical mischief-working scenarios, here's how it may go: Isaiah would flash his winning grin or pathetic pout and get a laugh, a hug and the gentlest redirection from me. Kami's firmly set jaw, defiant eyes and amused chuckle would not elicit the same warm response. I left the book of Jude open on the kitchen counter this week. It reminded me every time I walked by that I no longer live according to natural instinct because God's Spirit lives in me (Jude 19). There is absolutely no room for my instinctive response, but only for the response of careful training and instruction that is my responsibility as her mother. In the words of John the Baptist, "He must increase, but I must decrease." (John 3:30)
I'm beginning to order photos for part two of Kami's scrapbook, which will cover the pickup trip. I can't get these photos arranged and scrapbooked fast enough for her. I wrote recently about showing her the book about trip one. After uploading the pictures from trip two, I showed them to her. Just as it happened with the trip one book, she was poised to climb into the photos - this time into the iPad. Every picture, even ones that I hadn't assumed would be special to her, transported her back to Bulgaria. Much to her delight I have two photos of us sitting on Bulgarian swings. She often talks about swings and obviously misses the kind she grew up with. We just don't have these kinds of swings in America!
When it was time to close the iPad and transition to shower and bed time, she panicked. There was a sound in her voice and expression on her face that I hadn't seen for quite some time. Viewing these pictures from the not-so-distant past with her feels dangerous because I don't know what kind of memories they will trigger or what kind of regressions could appear in her behavior. But being an open and honest person to the core, I think it would be more dangerous for us to hide these photos for any number of months or years and then suddenly decide to whip them out. I would expect that she may feel even more hurt and possibly deceived, wondering why her parents hadn't shown her these images that could have been integral to an earlier understanding of her adoption.
Mason took this photo at a huge park in Sofia. I remember the heartrending pain of being in this place surrounded by children and great play equipment and just longing with every ounce of my being to have my children with me. The child I was with didn't feel like mine. Of course she didn't; she was only about one week out of the orphanage. The more distance I gain from the temporary pain I experienced there, the more I see that it only served to eclipse and compete with Kamelia's pain, which was far more extraordinary and far more impossible to soothe in a short period of time. God reached down His mighty hand to rescue her, to draw her out of darkness and into light, but what Mason and I did to her on that trip was traumatic - we physically removed her from everything she had ever known. She was ill-prepared for the transition to begin with, but when we took her from the only home she had ever known and spoke our strange language to her as we exposed her to new experience after new experience during those two weeks in country, she was powerless to cope. Now that I know her so much better than I did then, I see it. Not only was she still drugged, but she was absolutely, frantically, traumatically terrified. Adoption saved her, but it wrecked her life. It removed everything she ever knew for the purpose of replacing it with hope and life, but at the time she had no idea what those were or why she should want them. As the smoke clears and we are both able to see each other more clearly, I pray that she too is making sense of what happened.
When it was time to close the iPad and transition to shower and bed time, she panicked. There was a sound in her voice and expression on her face that I hadn't seen for quite some time. Viewing these pictures from the not-so-distant past with her feels dangerous because I don't know what kind of memories they will trigger or what kind of regressions could appear in her behavior. But being an open and honest person to the core, I think it would be more dangerous for us to hide these photos for any number of months or years and then suddenly decide to whip them out. I would expect that she may feel even more hurt and possibly deceived, wondering why her parents hadn't shown her these images that could have been integral to an earlier understanding of her adoption.
Clearly, we don't know for sure exactly what we are doing, but we are entering this new year asking and trusting God to lead us in every good path (Proverbs 2:9). This year I'll be studying God's Word looking specifically for references to paths. Proverbs 3:5-6 says "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight." Last year my prayer and study focus was on the word "new", and over the course of 2014 I formed a new relationship with a new child, adjusted to a new family dynamic, watched God begin to grow new life out of the ashes, became new time and again as I stumbled and lost my way and gained a newfound trust in Him, and even adopted new habits of shopping, cooking and eating as I transitioned out of necessity to a Celiac lifestyle. Late in the year, Mason and I decided to set out on a new path to transition out of the military and into civilian life in 2015. We plan to move to Florida this summer and we are waiting on God to show Mason the perfect new career for him.
This is not just an adoption blog, though it's been a huge focus in my writing over the past few years. I'm excited to share other adventures that God has in store as we follow Him down the next path He's chosen for us!
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Below are the photos we decided to submit to Bulgaria for Kamelia's 6 month post-adoption report. To Maggie, the incredibly special woman who trekked with us to Vidin as our adoption facilitator and translator on first trip and finalized the adoption on second trip: we wish we could see your face as you view these photos! May God bless you richly for all the work you tirelessly do to help secure hope and a future for the children of your country!
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