What A Difference, Indeed

"Mama.  Mama!  Mama!!"

She called to me from across the room, as I stood by the door talking to her teacher.  I looked over at her, sitting at the round table with a few classmates, wearing her new red print dress, blond hair in a plumeria bow.  BEAMING.  So many things were just like last school year: same pink and purple wheelchair, same adored teacher, same friends gathered around the table.  But something was different.  She was different.  She was confident.  It nearly took my breath away for a moment.  I thought to myself, "No one would ever know."  No one would have guessed where Bella came from, how many years she spent not living, but being kept alive.  She could have been any American child at that moment; just another kid in a wheelchair with a mommy and a daddy and a school she loves.  But I know the truth, and it stops me in my tracks sometimes.

 Bella in the orphanage, August 2012

I know that this time last year, I had a daughter who had never been to school in all of her nine years.  She'd joined our family through international adoption just eight months earlier.  We spent most of those months getting her healthy, and making sure we were bonding as a family.  Then last August we all decided that Bella was ready for school (Bella would tell you that she was ready for school the day I met her!).  Still, in spite of her eagerness to attend, it was a big transition.  She went from spending 24 hours a day with me to spending a couple of hours in the care of strangers.  She was dependent on them to meet virtually every need during that time.  It wasn't easy for her to trust that they would be there for her - that someone at this new place would help her with eating and pottying and positioning, and most importantly, that they would keep her safe.  Bella has an immense fear of falling or being dropped.  It was hard for her to trust them in the beginning.  It was hard for ME to trust them in the beginning.

We started slow - first two hours in the morning, then three, then all the way through to lunch.  By October, Bella was attending school full time.  She loved school, absolutely loved it.  But as much as she wanted it and looked forward to it, school was still difficult for her at times.  Her teacher was great - he would send me texts and photos during the school day to let me know about both the triumphs and the struggles.  Bella would suddenly burst into tears for no apparent reason almost every day in the beginning.  He kept track of the times, the activities, the environment during these short-lived episodes but there seemed to be no consistent triggers.  We concluded it was likely just overstimulation.  She cried almost every time she went to the bathroom.  She cried if her legs or back hurt.  But she never wanted to leave school - she always wanted to stay.  It was as if she knew that even though she was scared at times and even though she didn't always know how to handle her emotions, school was something to be prized - a gift in her eyes.  Each week she became a little more confident, and I taught her to assert herself in order to make her needs and wants known.  In spite of any trials during the school day, one thing was a constant - she got on the bus with a huge smile on her face and she got off of the bus with, yes that's right, a huge smile on her face :).  Her excitement for school (and for the bus ride!) never waned.

Fast forward to this August, and the text I got from her teacher at the end of the first school day:

"Bella had a great day!!  What a difference a year makes.  Awesome!  She was so sharp today, not just with new skills but processing speed as well.  Going to be a great year!"

 Bella waiting on the bus, August 2014

Bella, you are so beautiful inside and out.  YOU are a gift to be prized.  You are the weak leading the strong.  You may still have a lot to learn, but you have even more to teach.

Almost a Whole Year Home!

This is a big week for Bella - she will get to celebrate Gotcha Day on the 12th and her Homecoming on the 14th. As the dates get closer, I'm finding I am more emotional about them than I thought I'd be. I was looking through last year's photos, and decided to take a photo today and do a side-by-side comparison. Just look at her! When she came home, her legs were tightly scissored, feet were twisted, and her arms were bent and tucked tightly against her body most of the time. She couldn't raise them above her head. Her hands were clenched in tight fists most of the time too, and although she LOVED being outside, the sunlight hurt her eyes (even in the shade) for weeks. You can see the pain in the grimace on her face - I remember that day. She badly wanted to be out doing what the other kids were doing and was fighting through it. It was sad. That's what happens when you spend every single day for years on end lying in the same bed - eating, sleeping, and going to the bathroom on the same mattress 12 inches away from your bed mate. You become so badly damaged that things like movement and sunshine cause pain. But God preserved her spirit, and now the rest of her is being restored to her fullest. She will never even remotely resemble most of us in terms of physical ability, but I am willing to bet most of us will never remotely resemble her in terms of joy and contentment . I am so proud of her.

 

 

Another Perspective - From My Husband

Last night I had a bad headache.  I was tired and ready to go to bed, but my husband stopped me.  He'd been sitting at his computer for awhile, and I assumed he was writing a chapter for a textbook he's working on or something.  He said "In just a minute can you read something for me?"  I asked "Is it long?" thinking of those chapters.  He again asked me to wait, as he was almost done.  I sat down and this is what I saw on the screen:  a blog post, written entirely by my husband, dotted with photos he took himself on his iPhone over the past year.  I was floored.  Never have we talked about him contributing a post to my blog - never.  Heck, I don't even contribute to my blog that often!  I figure he's far too busy with work to even think about something like that.  I was wrong though, and he had some things on his mind that he wanted to share.  I am so very proud of him for caring enough to take the time to express his feelings in a public forum.  I love you, Rob - thank you for believing in God, and in me.

**Today (November 3rd) was Orphan Sunday, and also the one year anniversary of the day my family traveled to Ukraine for the purpose of adopting Bella.  I’m always pestering my wife to write a blog update because as writing and photography go, I think they are excellent.  And as Bella’s story goes, I find my wife’s posts fascinating.  But really for me, the updates help keep everything in perspective and reaffirm that what we’ve done is a good thing for Bella, for my wife and me, and for our whole family.  So I figure it’s about time I write a blog post from the spouse’s perspective (re: the perspective of the one who did NOT have the idea of adopting a special needs child from a former Soviet bloc country).  It took awhile for me to come around to the idea and I had hoped numerous times that my wife would abandon this idea.  But she never did and eventually I came on board (more on that later).

Just four days before we traveled to Ukraine, I was scheduled to return from my fifth deployment in support of either Operation Iraqi or Enduring Freedom. There was a lot of worry between my wife and me because redeployments never go as planned and there was a good chance I wouldn’t make it home before we were supposed to leave for the adoption.  There is too much planning and paperwork that went into the adoption and the redeployment to detail, but suffice to say it was a small miracle that it all got done in time.  After a lot of last minute paperwork, waiting in terminals, and obtaining much-needed signatures of approval, we were off to the other side of the world.  My wife and I took it as a good sign that things had gone relatively well so far.

 At the airport in Munich, Germany

On the train somewhere in Ukraine

I don’t remember how many hours we flew, how many stops we made, or how many different modes of transportation we took before we arrived in Bella’s orphanage town.  But I do remember that we left the balmy tropical paradise of Hawaii and the next thing I knew we were walking under grey skies, bracing ourselves against biting wind, and living in Soviet era housing with its hallmark poorly lit corriders.  Even after just having gotten back from Afghanistan, the living conditions seemed dismal - but perhaps I was just looking for something else to worry about.  The first song I heard when we arrived in Ukraine was Carly Rae Jespen’s “Call Me Maybe”, which was the subject of a running joke among my team members in Afghanistan, so I also took as a good sign. 

The day we were to visit Bella’s orphanage finally arrived.  As the man in my family, I put on a calm and brave face, ready to protect my wife and Bou should anything happen, although looking back I can’t imagine what that would have been.  Before we met Bella, we were invited to watch a play by some of the other children of the orphanage.  I didn’t understand a thing they were saying because it was in a different language but I remember thinking that this orphanage was doing what it could for these children, but it wasn’t much.  There just weren’t any resources even if there were willing souls. After the play ended, the children marched out and suddenly one of the girls jumped out of line to give me a hug.  The caregivers looked on with empty smiles.  In the middle of an Eastern European country, it was clear that the Asian man was here to give one of the other children a new home and a family, but couldn’t do so for all the children.

When we went to meet Bella, I remember steeling myself for seeing what I knew would be a sickly child.  But at first I didn’t see her enlarged skull, her malnourished body, or her withered legs that wouldn’t move.  All I saw was her genuine smile upon meeting Bou and me, and upon seeing my wife again. All I heard was her joyous voice, words spoken so clearly and intelligently in Russian.  I remember thinking if one only heard Bella, they would never know she had any disability.  But after a few minutes, it was clear how physically neglected she was.  She could barely hold the juice we gave her, barely turn the pages of a book we brought her, and she couldn’t move her legs at all. 

Moreover, she got tired very quickly.  Though her spirit was willing, she physically had a long way to go. I listened intently as the orphanage nurse read her medical history and our translator put it into English.  I asked a few questions but knew they didn’t have the answers. As a physician I wanted to examine her and try to gather as much information as I could about her disabilities; but we didn’t dare do anything that might upset Bella or the orphanage directors.  We needed to show that we were a loving family who was going to accept Bella just as she was.  My wife had heard too many stories about adoptions that weren’t completed because either the older adoptees or the orphanage directors were not on board with the adoptive parents.

I wasn’t too worried about it though because we quickly discovered that we had a secret weapon, our daughter Bou.  The orphanage workers took to her immediately and so did Bella.  In fact getting to know Bella was much easier with Bou there.  They got along great from the moment they met and I think Bella was at ease with us right away because she already had a friend in Bou.  They started calling each other sister from day one.  

My wife has already blogged about the adventures she had getting Bella through the courts and government agencies in Ukraine, so I won't go into that.  My job during that time was to get our other two children back home so they wouldn’t miss too much school.    

When we were finally united as a family a few weeks later, the real adventure was just beginning.  And the past year has had its ups and downs.

What I really have struggled with personally and had the most tribulation about was where I fit into all of this and what the purpose was.  I’ve often thought about why I agreed to adopt an older special needs child from the other side of the world.  The best answer I can give is that I believe in God, I believe in my wife, and I believe that no matter what Bella’s future holds, she is someone who, just like all of the world’s orphans, deserves a chance.  I have a good job and I doubt my family will ever lack for food, clothing or a roof over their heads.   My work is stable and my career is advancing nicely.  I’ll never break par on the golf course but I enjoy a few hours of chasing after the little white ball.   I get to play tennis once a week, even though I’ll never win the club championship.  I own a house two blocks from the beach and I don’t have a car payment.  My family and friends have proven they will be here time and again if I ever need them.  So what else did I really need and what was I going to do with all that I had?

I wish I could tell you it was my life’s dream to adopt internationally or that I heard God’s calling and had an epiphany, but I can’t.  I wish I could tell you that I will help Bella get into an Ivy League school or that our love and better medical care will fix all of her ailments.  But I can’t do that either.  What I can tell you is that I’ve given up imposing my expectations on this journey.  Some things Bella does better than she should be able to and other things are frustrating for her and us.   Sometimes she exceeds our expectations and other times, I am left baffled. I don’t know where this path will take us but what I’ve learned is that it isn’t our story; it’s Bella’s.  She has been great for our family.  We will provide all that we can and we will give her every opportunity, but where it takes all of us is up to God.  And along the way, I will try to do what Bella does - just smile and do my best.  No matter what, she always tries to do what we ask and she always does it with a smile.  In the end, and as with all of my children, that's all I can really ask for.**

Oprhan Sunday

I posted this short blurb on Facebook yesterday in honor of Orphan Sunday, and just wanted to share it here as well:

Today is Orphan Sunday. Exactly ONE YEAR ago today, we boarded a plane to make the 30 hour journey from Hawaii to Ukraine to begin our adoption of Bella. It has been a FULL year - one full of surprises, joy, pain, hope, setbacks, and most of all love. Has it been hard sometimes? Of course, any worthwhile endeavor is. Have you ever dove headfirst into a huge project - like renovating a house, landscaping your yard, participating in a humanitarian effort? Even though it probably had it's share of heartaches, when you saw it to fruition you also probably felt an immense satisfaction. Well take that feeling of satisfaction and multiply it times 1000, and you can just begin to imagine what it has felt like to adopt. Because Bella is a PERSON, not a project. And watching her thrive has been like nothing I've ever been a part of. If you have even the smallest tug at your heart, the smallest voice in your head whispering to adopt, support others' adoption, or advocate for orphans please don't ignore it - because there are about 150 MILLION orphans around the world who need hope. That's half the population of the Unites States - can you believe this? Well it's true and I've met some of them, loved them, cried for them. They have changed my life. They will change yours too if you open your heart - just start by praying for these children today and see where it leads you...

 Our first night in Kiev, Ukraine

HAPPY SIX MONTHS HOME, BELLA!

Exactly six months ago tonight you were greeted by your new friends and family at the Honolulu Airport.  Everything we've done has been worth it - you are worth it!  We love you very much.  When you are out of the hospital and safely back at home, I want to write more about these first six months with you.  But for now - WOW, just look at you!  Your light shines for all the world to see. 

 

 

What Might Happen?

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What might adopting a special needs child do to you, emotionally and relationally?

It might make you want to lash out in anger (however unjustifiable) at a five year old girl on the playground after she repeatedly comes over to the stroller to stare at your daughter’s head - half-shaved head from recent surgery -rotting teeth that can’t be fixed just yet, and withered legs.  She declines to reciprocate the multiple “hellos” and waves that your daughter is offering her.  You tell this girl that your child’s name is Bella, and she’d love to say hello, then watch the girl shake her head, give one more disapproving look, and walk away.  After your tender-hearted Bella looks at you and, while pointing at the girl, says “Mama, no hello” and begins to cry, you might use every ounce of grace you can muster to just shut up and not turn into bitch mom right there by the slides.

You might also be moved to tears by another child, a nine year old with a level of love and compassion in her heart that many adults never achieve.  This nine year old, who also happens to be adopted, wrote such kind words in Bella’s birthday card that it has become a treasure to be saved for Bella to read herself one day. 

It might compel those you know to avoid eye contact (or any contact) with you when you go to a birthday party with your kids or walk into church.  It might also compel those you know (or barely know) to seek you out when you go to a birthday party with your kids or walk into church.   Sometimes you might walk out feeling uncomfortable, isolated, or hurt.  Other times you might walk out with a full heart, one that has been flooded with feelings of relief and thankfulness. 

It might cause you and your spouse to argue over ridiculous things – like whether his way or your way is the BEST way, or even worse, the ONLY way to position your completely dependent child on the toilet.  I mean, let’s face it, as long as the pee goes in the bowl it should be considered mission-accomplished.  Later you might look at your spouse and say “Did we really argue over that – again?”  I am not saying this has actually happened at our house, just that it MIGHT have :).

You and your spouse might get frustrated with each other because there are inevitably things you won't see eye-to-eye about.  But when you see your husband teaching your adopted child how to play the ukulele or hear her say "I want Daddy"  it might also cause you to thank God that he is the one you are doing this with.  

It might make you keenly aware of how fragile the human body is, and how amazing the human spirit is, and how quickly things can change – every. single. day.  And you might come to realize what a good thing this daily reminder is.  It is not a curse or a burden, it is a BLESSING.  Because you begin to understand that so many things you worry about are frivolous and insignificant.  When you begin to realize this, you start to loosen your grip on those things and turn more of your attention to the things (ie. people) that do matter.  You might go out and enjoy watching your kids play in the backyard today because you know that you could be at the hospital with a child who has broken a hip or needs neurosurgery tomorrow. 

It might help you forge relationships with women you have never met in person.  But you know your hearts are forever intertwined through special needs adoption.  Some of them are doing what you are doing, some are doing things that are so much harder.  All of them inspire and encourage you.

Some of these things might happen.  It has all happened to me, and we’re just a few months into this journey.  I would not change it – not the sorrow and definitely not the joy (and the joy far outweighs the sorrow!). 

This Time It's Personal

You know, there have been several orphans who have wiggled their way into my heart, and I thought "I have to advocate for them, write a blog post about them...something".  And yet I haven't managed to do it.  Between Bella's hospitalizations and our own transition to a family of five, I just have not made it a priority.  But this time is different.  This time it's personal.

You probably recognize one of these girls as our adopted daughter, Bella.  She will turn nine in just a few days.  The other little girl (in the red striped shirt) is Iris, and she is 11 years old.  Beginning last summer, Iris was allowed to come to the laying room regularly to visit and play with Bella.  The two quickly became best friends.  Can you imagine, someone to love in a place where the "unloved" reside?  How precious those times spent together must have been for both girls.  Their smiles say it all. 

When we were doing our daily orphanage visits, we had the opportunity to spend some time with Iris.  She would be eagerly waiting by the door, peering hopefully into the narrow hallway, as Bella was wheeled out on her cart.  I would motion to her "come on out!" - some workers allowed it and some did not.  On the days when they said yes she was clearly thrilled to be out there with us.  She loved taking part in whatever we were doing - whether it was coloring, punching balloons around, playing with dolls, or dancing to music.  My bio daughter, Bou, loved Iris.  In fact she just said to me yesterday, "I wish we could have adopted Iris too."  That's not the first time I've heard this.   

Which brings me to another point.  I believe Iris would be a good big sister.  Why is that important?  Because many families are wary of bringing an older post-institutionalized child into a home with younger children.  It's a valid concern, one that certainly has to be considered.  After all, as parents we are responsible for the well-being of ALL the children in our homes.  That's why I want to share my experiences with Iris.  She played appropriately with both Bella, who is completely helpless, and my 6 year old Bou.  She was kind, fetching toys for them.  She was affectionate, giving kisses on the cheek to Bella and hugs to us.  She was gentle, sweet, timid at times.  It seemed clear to me that this child does not receive alot of the love, affection, and praise that she so craves - clear because she lacks self-assurance.  And still, she knows how to give what she receives so little of.  She told Bella that she loved her.  She called me mama at first.  After she was chastised by the workers for that, she began to call me "Bella Mama".

On the day we took Bella out of the orphanage, Iris stood at the head of the bed the entire time, watching Bella get dressed and ready to go.  I wondered what she thought as she watched her best friend, the center of a flurry of happy activity, that day.  Was she excited, scared, angry?  She looked nervous to me.  She gave me a few sweet smiles and Bella Mama's, but was quiet for the most part.  Honestly I couldn't look at her very much.  I was afraid I might cry.  I gave her a big hug on the way out and told her I loved her.  Then I closed the door - the last thing I saw was was Iris, still standing there hopefully, just as she had every day for the five weeks I'd visited. 

When I learned a couple of weeks ago that Iris had been listed on Reece's Rainbow I was thrilled.  I knew this time, THIS TIME, I had to follow through on my intentions to advocate for a child.  But still, I didn't get to it, and I was feeling very guilty and sorry about that.  But someone else, a fellow adoptive mom and author of a wonderful blog called Tiny Green Elephants, had already taken the ball and run with it!  Like me, she has adopted an older child.  Like me, her heart breaks for those kids left behind.  When she began advocating, there was only $85 in Iris' adoption grant.  Knowing that finances often present an obstacle for families, and that a family is more likely to step forward and take a leap of faith for Iris if her adoption is fully funded, the Tiny Team issued a challenge:  for 200 people to donate $100 to Iris' grant.  If that happens, it frees a family of the financial worry associated with stepping forward, because they will have $20,000 dollars available - enough to fund Iris' adoption!

Since that challenge was issued on January 28th, Iris' grant has increased to $4000!  So she no longer needs 200 people to give $100 - she just needs 160 people to do it.  

Many families (most I would say) need to fundraise in order to pay for their international adoption.   We were very blessed to be in a position to pay for ours.  We never had to ask for a single dollar.  But now I am asking - for $100 from my friends who have been so richly blessed and can afford it.  I am talking to MY friends, the ones I know in real life.  Let's look around us.  Look at our beautiful homes, lovingly furnished.  Look at our cars, our nice tech gadgets, our closets bursting with clothes.  Look at our children, who want for nothing.  They live in houses full of food, warmth, and love.  They attend schools and participate in activities.  Let's all look around us and ask ourselves, how can we NOT afford a few dollars for a child who has nothing I just listed?  If not $100, then whatever you can.  I am shamelessly imploring you to do this because I know how crucial it is for Iris to have a family.  I have seen the kind of place she will spend her life in if she is not adopted.  I do not want my daughter's best friend to go there.  It is wrong.

If you want to know more about Iris, please watch this beautiful video that my friend (a missionary who spent 6 months volunteering at their orphanage last year) made:



















You can also see Iris here, playing with Bella and Bou.  Although my video isn't as elegantly done or as moving, I like it because you can see her personality:  smiling, clapping, swaying to the music, giving Bella a kiss...At the end Bella asks in Russian "Do you love me?" to which Iris replies "Yes!"

 Please be a part of Iris' story, please go HERE to donate to her fund.  You will help save her.

So What's It Really Like?

What is it REALLY to parent our post-institutionalized, adopted older child?  Well, we have only been at it for six weeks (six weeks today, to be exact!) but I will tell you what we've learned so far.  So many of my blog posts have been very positive portrayals of our adoption experience, because overall it has been just that - very positive.  But in the interest of being balanced, and providing a little bit of insight to other families who may be thinking about adopting from a laying room, I'll  write a different kind of post tonight. 

First - and this may seem like a no brainer, but it isn't necessarily - no matter how "good" the orphanage was or no matter how much some of the caregivers "liked" your child, life there still sucked.  It was still a far cry from a family.  I have been as open as I can be with people about the conditions of Bella's laying room.  I want to portray it accurately - to present a fair picture rather than constantly accentuate the negative.  I try to choose my words carefully, but I also don't want to sugar-coat it.   Are there things about the place that I will never blog about publicly?  Yes.  Out respect for my daughter's privacy, yes.  But in spite of that, the truth is that it seemed okay as far as orphanages go.  Okay in this context is such a relative term though.  It seemed clean and orderly - I frequently saw one of the workers hanging linens out to dry on the lines.

Did it smell? Sure, I think it's hard to keep 15-20 bedridden children cooped up in one room - have them eat, sleep, and do their bathroom business all in beds that they lie in 24 hours a day - and have it NOT smell.

Were there enough diapers?  No.  When I asked the caregivers (through my translator) what they needed most, the immediate and unanimous answer was "pampers".  Was there enough to eat?  I don't feel qualified to answer that question.  On the one hand, all the laying room kids I got to see were extremely malnourished.  On the other hand, I saw the food being brought in to the room every single day that I visited.  I believe that the caregivers fed those children to the best of their abilities given the resources they had.  I also believe that the profound knowledge deficit regarding the care of special needs children contributes greatly to their nutritional states. 

I was able to watch the workers feed Bella a few times, and even in my presence she was fed very quickly, another big spoonful pressed into her mouth before she was able to swallow the previous one.  Liquids were given in the same way - poured down the throat with a big spoon while she was flat on her back. She choked often.  I saw the other children in the laying room being fed the same way.  It wasn't easy to watch.

Was she medicated in the orphanage?  Yes.  Were they truthful with us about it? No.

What does all of that mean for Bella, and for us?  Well you certainly don't overcome it all in six weeks... you don't just come home and act like a "normal" kid after living in an institutional environment for years.  And yet Bella seems remarkably "normal" in her emotions and her behaviors.  She is a very happy girl - sweet, loving, full of joy, easy to please.  So easy to please that, after years of doing nothing in the laying room, she wouldn't mind doing the same thing here at home.  She would be happy if left on the couch all day to watch the world go by.  Of course, that is not what she does - she has a full life now!  But it leaves her exhausted.  Just the buzz of activity from two siblings and two family pets wears her out sometimes.  Each week, though, we can see that her endurance is improving.

And more importantly, she WANTS so badly to be involved!  In the beginning, her immediate response to the slightest discomfort (physical or emotional, real or perceived) was "Ya hotchu spotch" - "I want to sleep."  It was understandably her preferred coping mechanism.  Six weeks later, we rarely hear that.  She now understands that the discomfort is temporary and that fun will follow if she just perseveres for a little bit.  And when we are done she loves to exclaim "Good job, Bella!"

It also means that nutrition is a challenge right now.  While she happily tries any food, she can only tolerate a few bites.  We aren't sure exactly why.  We think that the excess fluid she has developed in her belly recently makes her nauseated when she tries to eat, especially since she has to stay reclined to eat while her hip heals.  If she eats more than a few bites she throws up.  This will improve as her overall health status improves.  It is also clear to us that she has a difficult time chewing a lot of foods.  Whether that's because she hasn't chewed much in her life (most of her food in the orphanage was mushy), or because she tires out too quickly, or because of the terrible condition of her teeth, we don't know.  She will be able to get dental surgery in a couple of months, but the dentist wants her to get healthier first.  You can begin to see how her poor health makes nutrition difficult, but the things that need to be done to improve her health are safer to do after she her nutritional status is better - it is a bit of a vicious cycle. 

Bella is still not able to drink from a regular cup.  She just doesn't know how to close her lips around it.  She can drink from a straw (thanks to her friend, Natasha, I am sure) and she has learned to drink from a sippy cup.  When we try to use a regular cup she just opens her mouth wide (I call it baby-bird style) and waits for us to pour it in.  She will be nine years old next month, and no one ever taught her this.  I have no doubt she will figure it out soon though. 

Our daughter has some deep-seeded fears:  having an accident at naptime (she is potty-trained), throwing up, the threat of falling or being dropped, rain.  These things have caused absolute panic in her, along with other triggers.  Our Russian-speaking friend has been able to shed light on some of them, and others we can only speculate about.    Thankfully she is easily reassured and seems perceptive enough to realize quickly that the rules in her new home are different.

So what IS it really like?  This post may make caring for Bella seem a bit daunting, but it isn't.  Yes, she needs to eat, drink, get stronger so she can tolerate more activity, and overcome some fears.  Before we adopted Bella, I prayed specifically that her heart, her joy, her spirit would be protected during the transition to home and a family.  I said that the physical challenges didn't matter so much, it was the emotional health we longed to keep intact.  My prayer certainly has been answered so far, and with two hospitalizations behind us, I still stand by my assertion about the physical hurdles.  They are secondary to Bella's story.  That doesn't mean I am unphased by them though.  The day after she was discharged from the hospital I was caring for her while my two year old son was napping.  I had to take a break, go in the bathroom and close the door.  I've cried over the conditions that children in Ukraine live in...I've cried over Bella's past...I've cried tears of sadness over many aspects of this whole journey.  But never until that day last week in the bathroom, with shades drawn and door closed, did the hot tears of bitterness fall.  And they fell furiously.  I wanted to lay blame - to people, institutions, an entire society - for the things that my daughter has to endure in life because of neglect.  And so I did.  I just let myself be bitter for that one day.  Will it be my last bitter day?  I really doubt it.  But I hope it will be the last one for awhile.  I hope that on most days I will choose to focus on moving forward with Bella in her new life.  And to focus on this smile - this absolutely RADIANT smile that we see all day long from a child who brings so much joy into our home! 

I am so thankful that God gave us the courage that we alone could never have - that he soothed our fears and cleared our paths.  He protected His child and made her one of ours, too.  So what is it REALLY like?  It is REALLY good!

One Week Home Already!

So our driver picked us up last Friday at 3am and headed to the Kiev airport to board the first of three flights.  Want to know what Terminal D looks like at that time of morning?

As the plane sped down the runway and began its ascent, I had to quickly wipe away a tear or two (didn't want Bella to see me cry and become concerned).  I was so RELIEVED and HAPPY this journey was almost over and I was leaving this country to go back to my home.  Don't get me wrong - I had a good experience there, and I met people who I believe will be part of my life forever.  But there are things about Ukraine that make me feel sad and hollow inside, that make me try to find answers to questions that I sometimes I wish I didn't even know to ask. 

And so it was when we landed in Frankfurt, Germany a couple of hours later...this time I think I cried a little because it just all looked so beautiful and so normal to me - like confirmation that I was back in the "real" world instead of bleak otherworldly Eastern Europe. 

Meanwhile, Bella was handling all the travel extremely well!  I had to purchase two airplane seats for her since she cannot tolerate sitting up yet.  Our next flight was from Frankfurt to San Fransisco - 11 hours and 40 minutes, and she was so good.  I know adults who can't behave on a flight that long!   We met some neat people along the way - for example, there was a Russian-speaking missionary on our long flight who had actually lived in Ukraine for two years.  He happened to be standing behind us as we were waiting in line to get on the plane and we struck up a conversation.  He was able to help me out some.   Once we cleared customs in San Francisco (and I said I had no prohibited items!) and were waiting to get our bags and recheck them, an airport dog made a hit on my carry-on bag.  The agent asked me if I had produce and I discovered that I'd accidentally carried a banana from Europe.  He was nice about it, and as he wrote on my customs form, he asked me about what I had been doing in Ukraine.  When I told him, his eyes lit up and he told me that he and his wife had adopted one child internationally and were in the process of adopting another :)  After our layover we boarded our last flight to Honolulu.  Unlike the other flights, Bella slept for the entire time but I was too excited to do anything except watch the minutes tick by.

When we arrived in home sweet Honolulu, there were no tears for me.  I was soaring with excitement and relief.  We were greeted by many of our friends (some of whom are adoptive families) - it was very special to have some of the people who supported us and prayed for us throughout this process there to see it all come to fruition.

Bella took everything in stride - smiling at everyone, extending her hand to greet them, and reveling in the attention from the other children present.  My friends Andrea (mom to two internationally adopted children) and Amy captured some special moments for us: 

The only time I got choked up was when my two year old son came running toward me, arms spread wide, and jumped into my embrace.  Oh, it has never felt so good to hold my little boy. 

Here is our first family photo (with friends Anya and Brandon).  Anya is from Uzbekistan and speaks Russian, so she and Bella were instant friends!  We are very thankful for her.

We had arranged to admit Bella to the hospital as soon as we arrived in Honolulu due to some risks associated with her condition, but she was doing so well that I thought it would be better for her emotionally if she was allowed to SEE her new home and spend one night there prior to going to this hospital.  Anya explained the plan to her, and she understood.  She loved our house, our Christmas tree, and her new room.  She also LOVED being with her sister again!

Saturday morning we headed to the hospital where Bella spent the next five days being monitored for refeeding syndrome and getting everything else she needed.  She was a champ!  She only cried a few times during the entire stay, when she was afraid or hurting.  Her emotional responses were appropriate and when it was over she recovered quickly.  That was very encouraging for us to see!  It went better than we could have ever hoped for.  She has a long, long road ahead of her but we know that she will persevere.

 On Wednesday Bella was discharged to home!  Since then we have just been concentrating on starting life together as a family of five.  She has experienced many firsts in just a few days.  She is picking up new English words every day.  She is just a delightful little girl.  I sometimes look at Rob and say "Is this real?"  There has been no anger or grief on her part, no tantrums, defiance, or inappropriate behavior.  She seeks out eye contact and smiles, is happy to receive affection, willing to try any new food, says please and thank you, and loves her siblings.  Of course we know that things may take a turn at any time, as this journey has just begun.  But after a week home with this joyful child, we are cautiously optimistic that things will continue to go well.  Through almost nightly conversations with our Russian-speaking friend, we have learned of Bella's rather insightful observations about life in an institution, and how she feels about leaving there (more encouragement for us).








So I'll close with a video and couple of photos from her first official outing with her new family, to watch her sister's Christmas hula performance.  Bella LOVED it - the music, the children, the socialization - she just soaked it up and the smile never left her face.

I added the video for a few reasons:  the song is beautiful, the hula is beautiful, Bou is in it (angel in the center), and you can see Bella's reaction at the end of it :)

The Beginning of a New Beginning

I am a terrible blogger!  I have so many posts in my head, but lacked the mental energy to put them into words while I was in Ukraine.  So I will attempt to get everyone up to speed on what has happened over the last several days.

We did not get to take Bella out of the orphanage and leave Krivoy Rog as expected last Tuesday.  A snowstorm hit Kiev and prevented her passport from being delivered to get the necessary stamps (it's not even worth explaining - just more Ukrainian red tape!).  Without the passport, we could not proceed to Kiev and clear the U.S. Embassy, so we stayed put for another day.

On Wednesday, December 12th, I was informed that the passport was ready, so we headed to the orphanage at about 10am to get Bella out.  When I arrived at the orphanage, there was an air of anticipation and excitement among some of the workers.  I was greeted by two of my favorite people there, Olga and Sveta.  Olga was a tremendous help in preparing all of our documentation, and Sveta is the orphanage receptionist.  I have spoken about Sveta before on this blog - she was the first face I saw when I first visited this place back in February.  She has always greeted me with a warm smile (a rarity here) when I walked in the front door.

From left:  Olga, Me, and Sveta

I then carried Bella's clothing upstairs to the laying room where she was waiting.  Orphans own nothing, so in my bag was a coat, hat, mittens, sweater, dress, undershirt, underwear, tights, and shoes.  I gave everything to the caregivers and tried to elicit a few more tidbits of information from them while they dressed Bella.

I glanced around the laying room (a place I had been granted access to only twice during the past six weeks) for the last time.  I was afraid to take photos, but at the same time I felt compelled to snap a couple of quick shots of the place - the one and only room - that Bella had existed in for the last 4.5 years.  I saw the faces of her groupa mates barely peeking out from beneath heavy comforters - some sweet, some sad, some seemingly lifeless.  Two were excited by the commotion.  I told myself this was the last time I would smell what I dubbed the "orphanage stench" on Bella - a combination of bad breath, sporadic baths, and old clothes that are worn day after day.  It was the last time that I would smell the diapers that permeated the room, swollen with concentrated urine.  It was the last time I would hug sweet child standing in the photo below and tell her "Paka!"

Soon Bella was adequately bundled and deemed ready to be carried downstairs to the waiting van.  

When we got downstairs we discovered that Natasha (whom I plan to write a post about later this week) was there to say goodbye to us.  She spoke to Bella for a minute, and gave her kisses and a little teddy bear to take with her.

Then she turned to me, and we "said" our goodbyes.  She doesn't speak English, I don't speak Russian- yet love transcends language.  We both fought back tears.  Natasha and I will forever be connected at the heart.

Finally it was time to carry Bella outside. Light snow began to fall as she was laid down on a small mattress on the floor of the van (the middle bench seat was removed to make room for it).  I was worried that she may become upset or scared when the reality of leaving the orphanage behind hit her.  After all, as much as I think it was a terrible way for her to live, it was what she knew.  She does not have the advantage of seeing all that lies before her, as I do.  But she was as happy as she could be.

And so that's the way it was for the next nine hours.  Yes, nine - what should have been a six hour drive to Kiev was delayed by a constant onslaught of snow and icy conditions.  Our driver, Igor, did a great job keeping us safe!  This is not a very good photo of him, but it's the only one I have - on a cigarette and espresso break.  He is so nice!

Through it all Bella was a fabulous traveler, never complaining or getting upset.

 When we got to Kiev late Wednesday night we settled into the apartment, fed Bella, and got her dressed for bed.  She was as happy as could be:

At bedtime she wanted me to lay down with her, and she fell asleep in less than five minutes, no problems!  She woke up the same way she went to bed - happy!

We spent most of the day Thursday in the car, going first to the medical clinic, and then to the U.S. Embassy to get Bella's visa.  All was well, and I got a "thumb's up" many times throughout the day.

Kiev was a winter wonderland, and I loved seeing so many trees and beautiful buildings covered in snow.

We were able to get all of the necessary documentation done in one day and woke up very, very early Friday morning to leave Ukraine and fly HOME!  More about that in the next post...