tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40210973603177619522024-03-14T13:49:10.327-05:00AJ's Awesome AdventureUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger376125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-32828548781074395152017-05-27T09:27:00.001-05:002017-05-27T10:12:44.929-05:00Eight YearsThe first morning of preschool wrecked me. His adoption and homecoming had only been 23 months earlier. That may seem like a lifetime to some, but to me it flew. Three weeks after he came home my calendar exploded into a slew of appointments every week. His diagnoses came, as did the visceral effort to give him everything he needed. It was like a run away festival ride and I was hanging on for dear life. He needed so much and we were moving at warp speed. I giggle at myself as back then he <i>only</i> held cerebral palsy, failure to thrive, and deafness as his diagnoses.<br />
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We lived in a different school district and had done extensive research as to what AJ would need. We decided to advocate for AJ to go to a different school in a different district. The other school had a preschool program with kids with hearing loss who were choosing to hear via technology (cochlear implants or hearing aides) and use spoken language. <br />
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We walked into his <a href="http://ajsawesomeadventure.blogspot.com/2009/06/ajs-iep-meeting.html" target="_blank">first IEP meeting</a> with binders for each of the thirteen people present.. We had been encouraged to make a pamphlet or information packet about AJ so that staff would know who we were having this IEP for, That meeting rocked us to our core. It went on for hours without any resolve. The meeting was a bit more stressed then a typical first IEP as we came out swinging for him him to go somewhere else. Our home district did not understand hearing loss or what AJ needed. It was our first taste of truly fighting for what AJ needed. Looking back, I'm glad we walked into that initial fire. The experience taught us well.<br />
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After two more rounds of meetings AJ was approved to attend this preschool program for DHH (deaf hard of hearing) students. We walked him into the classroom on the first day and he settled in. Looking back, he was just a baby. He was wearing infant clothes and much smaller than his peers. MUCH. He had just had his first cochlear implant activated four months earlier. He had only been hearing for four months. He had just started walking a few months earlier.<br />
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First Day of Preschool</div>
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I walked out of the building and walked to my car. Sobbing. A full on sob that nothing will stop and that a hug would have made worse. One of those. I had no idea what to do with myself.<br />
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I can't remember what I did that day. His preschool program was only 2.5 hours long, so for the two years he attended that program I stayed in town. I went to the library and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Road-Less-Traveled-Heidi-Renee/dp/1512745618/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1495887311&sr=8-1&keywords=heidi+renee+the+road+less+traveled" target="_blank">wrote</a>, went to Target, and sat in parking lots. The almost hour drive home and back wasn't worth it. His teachers worked TIRELESSLY to understand him. They brought in every resource they could and gave him the support he needed.<br />
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His second year of preschool was a doozie. That fall AJ had a seizure in the car on the way to school and was <a href="http://ajsawesomeadventure.blogspot.com/2010/10/now.html" target="_blank">diagnosed with epilepsy</a>. I remember the morning after clear as a bell. His teacher greeted me at the door, gave me a mommy to mommy hug and asked if there was anything I needed. I, of course, said no. When it comes to AJ, I do what he needs first and process the emotions later. But I have never forgetten her kindess. This was also then year he received his second cochlear implant. His class made cards for him, which his teachers brought to his hospital room when they visited post-surgery. Jeremy was <a href="http://ajsawesomeadventure.blogspot.com/search?q=funky" target="_blank">diagnosed with MS</a> a few days before the end of the school year. AJ's staff was incredibly understanding as we navigated tests and appointments and treatments. They encouraged us to attend the zoo field trip in the midst of all this chaos because even though we didn't know we needed it, they did. It gave us great comfort that AJ was being well-cared for. Yes I said well-cared for.<br />
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The last day of preschool brought a picnic lunch and playtime at the neighborhood park. His first teacher was leaving that summer and I'll never forget the conversation we had at the picnic table. It was beyond encouraging to our little family<br />
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That summer we sold our house and moved into the district AJ was attending. We wanted to keep him enrolled there, but our home district wanted AJ to attend kindergarten in our home district. I don't think so. It was not rare for families to move into this district for this DHH program. It is beyond cool to see these kiddos grow up together and see sprinkles of cochlear implants in each grade level. I was terrified of how he'd do with the move, and as he usually does, he surprised us and handled it like a champ.<br />
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Kindergarten</div>
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It had become clear throughout AJ's preschool years that AJ was not developing speech. Because of his late access to sound everyone wanted to give him time to catch-up. It was clear something else was at play here. His speech therapist quickly became the master of improv and thinking out of the box when it came to AJ. She was gentle although factual in her delivery when sharing his progress with us. We had started using <a href="http://ajsawesomeadventure.blogspot.com/search?q=pecs" target="_blank">PECS</a>, which he was very successful using. Over the summer she talked to me about an iPad. She really felt he was ready to take the next step. I was resistant. I felt like this was permanent and sad. Basically I had <i><b>all the wrong</b></i> feelings about it.<br />
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Because the iPad became AJ's voice.<br />
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We were able to obtain an iPad for AJ through funding he qualified for through our county. One morning his speech therapist, kindergarten teacher, and I all sat around a circular table with this iPad. iPads were rather new at that time and his speech therapist was far beyond the teacher and I understanding how it worked. We had also gotten a very expensive communication app for this iPad. We quickly realized it was the wrong choice for AJ and chose a different communication app called <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/icommunicate/id320986580?mt=8" target="_blank">iCommunicate</a>. A lot of communication apps use stick figure images and rather cartoon pictures for the images of objects. It became clear right away that AJ responds to real pictures. We took pictures of <i><b>everything</b></i>. It's hard for me to remember where we started, because the way AJ communicates with it now blows my mind.<br />
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Kindergarten was also the year congitive disability was added to his IEP. This was also the first year that it was difficult for him to spend time in the regular education classroom. He spent most of his time in his DHH teacher's room and then a small amount of time in the special education room. I had an extremely hard time with this. I don't know why. I suppose it is obvious. His kindergarten teacher was gracious to include him in as much as possible.<br />
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First Grade</div>
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First grade brought welcome changes, a new special education teacher, and programming for AJ. Second grade brought more change and the introduction to a communication method called RPM (Rapid Prompting Method). I remember sitting in the car in front of my mom's condo listening to his teacher tell me she used RPM for the first time and my boy knew his shapes and colors. I sobbed when I hung up.<br />
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<i><b>It's all inside of him, he just can't get it out.</b></i></div>
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Second Grade</div>
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Second grade brought the creation of a resource room. This was an awesome space for sensory exploration. His therapists rocked the path to making that space possible. This was also the year we began using a different communication app for AJ called <a href="https://www.attainmentcompany.com/gotalk-now" target="_blank">Go Talk Now</a>. This app was much more user-friendly. In the past we had used more of a picture schedule where he could swipe and see what he was doing next, as well as choose pictures from a glossary of photos, but it really wasn't functional beyond that. This allowed him to make choices and opened the door for multiple layers of boards to be made and expand as his use expanded. It's beyond awesome. Second grade also began the expansion of our family as we began the process of adoption <a href="http://ajsawesomeadventure.blogspot.com/2013/06/what-what.html" target="_blank">again</a>.<br />
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Third Grade</div>
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Third grade was by far the worst year we've ever had. I really can't sugarcoat it. The school's direction changed to "full inclusion" and the results were devastating. It was not appropriate for AJ to be in the regular education classroom. Special education classrooms were made obsolete and AJ was isolated without any peers present. It was a cold, windowless room that was given the title "breakout room". With the exception of gym, art, and music, they moved every single environment he was used to to a different room or location in the school. He endured five staff changes that year. His behavior spiraled out of control, he refused to comply at school, and stopped wearing his cochlear implants.<br />
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We brought his sister home that December and I still feel a twinge guilty for not realizing what was going on sooner. We consulted AJ's neurologist about his behaviors. He shared that AJ has no executive function (doesn't understand right/wrong or what is safe/unsafe) and also has little to no impulse control. A light bulb went off in our heads. It made <i><b>so</b></i> much sense. We sought out a psychologist and were referred to a psychiatrist. We were determined to get to the bottom of what was happening. It is a bit disheartening when a psychiatrist stares at your child and says, "I don't know." By the time we figured all of this out it felt very <i>too little, too late.</i><br />
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Third grade was the year that forever changed me as a special needs parent and advocate. It hardened me a bit. I'm leaving out a lot, but know we fought. Hard.<br />
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Fourth grade began with all of the puzzle pieces moved back into the right places. AJ once again had a special education classroom to call home. His lead teacher just understood him and continuously thought outside the box. His RPM use exploded and he was learning! This was the year he learned to jump independently and ride a bike! It was a year of building him back up from the disaster the year before. It was his staff working tirelessly to essentially re-train him to wear his implants at school and calm his behaviors. It was the year of getting him back in the saddle and riding once again.<br />
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Fifth grade has been like riding a bike. His team knows him, he knows his team. He knows his classroom, his peers, and his routine. He can tell time and has a reading comprehension of a first grader. This from the boy who was the subject of a conversation with a neurologist who said, "This is about as good as he's going to do in life." Whatever man. You don't know our AJ.<br />
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He had surgery this year and his staff has asked all the questions and done all things to support him like a rock star. They don't blink at my ridiculously long emails, updates, and constant information. They are kind and have a smile on their faces when I drop the kids off late because AJ didn't eat, or sleep well, or his body doesn't want to cooperate, or he had seizures. They compliment my outfit even though I forgot to brush my hair and threw on whatever because life with AJ is so different and unhinged. They offer me hugs when I pull up in tears, to which I say no to, because it will make me cry harder. But still they offer. They always tell us we "don't have to do that". <b>We do</b>. They always say, "Let us know if you need anything."<br />
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Teacher appreciation week was a few weeks ago and it stopped me in my tracks. Usually I'm one of those that goes above and beyond, because <b>HAVE YOU READ EVERYTHING ABOVE? </b><br />
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But this year I couldn't think of anything that would come close to our level of gratitude for these people. AJ is not a cookie-cutter student. We are <i><b>those</b></i> parents. The ones who are not quiet when fighting for what AJ needs. After all this time, they still like us.<br />
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No coffee card, cupcake, or gift is going to accurately convey our love for these people. </div>
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We had AJ's last IEP for elementary school last week and I managed to cry all my tears before and after the meeting. We watched as his staff relayed our son's present levels to his new middle school staff and then turned their thoughts to how they've been with him for eight years, how special he is, and how they would go to the ends of the earth to help our boy.<br />
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">How do you say thank you for that?</span></b></i></div>
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Eight years we've been at the same school. </div>
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AJ has had:</div>
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<b>17 teachers</b></div>
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<b>11 aides</b></div>
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<b>1 speech therapist</b></div>
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<b>2 physical therapists</b></div>
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<b>2 occupational therapists</b></div>
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<b>1 gym teacher</b></div>
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<b>2 music teachers</b></div>
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<b>2 art teachers</b></div>
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<b>2 consultants</b></div>
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<b>2 very involved administrators</b></div>
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<b>5 principals</b></div>
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The magnitude of that is staggering. Kids like AJ don't do well with transition, and his performance reflects that. It doesn't mean we don't push him, it doesn't mean we don't stretch him, it doesn't mean we keep things static. But in his world, routine is comfort. I have no idea how he will react to this transition to middle school. He rocked our move, so I know better than to short change him in this department. But a whole new team and a whole new building will be difficult for him. Not everyone understands our son. <i><b>Thanks to his current team, we are as prepared as possible. </b></i><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-44126590939604474562016-08-10T10:35:00.001-05:002016-08-10T10:35:30.136-05:00Fighting Fear: At the Balloon FestivalWe don't tend to do things on a whim over here. Like, ever. So when Jer and I both woke up a few Saturdays ago and announced to each other we should take the kids to the hot air balloon festival we felt empowered.<br />
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We packed the kids in the car and made the trek only to be informed that the balloons were not at the festival. They were to return in the evening. We were encouraged to stay for rides and helicopter rides. We thanked the kind parking attendant who told us this before he took our cash, turned around and left. I felt enormously disappointed and slightly panicked. <i>What are we going to do now? </i></div>
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Jer suggested we grab lunch and take the kids to a park we love just another town over. My anxiety crept up slowly as Mimi began repeating the word "balloon" in the backseat. We pulled into the park to find a massive crowd of people gathered for a large children's festival. It seemed there were no parking spots in that tiny parking lot. We parked in a handicapped spot (we have a card for AJ) and I was still worried about him walking so far. My brain was so scrambled I wasn't tuning into the fact that we have a wheelchair in the backseat. </div>
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We've only used the wheelchair for days when AJ is sleeping at school and is too incoherent to walk out of school when I pick him up. We also used it for a long trek during family photos. These distances may not be long for you and I, but they are for AJ. I haven't quite gotten used to remembering much less using it more frequently. </div>
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Our detour that afternoon led us here:<br />
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We enjoyed a fantastic lunch with fantastic weather and headed home. Later that evening we one-upped our boldness and headed back to the balloon festival. As we drove along the main road and saw the mass amounts of people I felt that all familiar panic set it. So.many.people. Let me clarify that I am fine in larger crowds. My children are not. We were directed to a make-shift parking lot (a field) about a block from the festival. I noticed some people were sitting up on the hill in chairs so we made the decision to stay by the car and just hang out. Surely we'd see the giant balloons floating back down in the sky from there.</div>
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We parked and I realized it was time for AJ's medicine. One thing that I've never gotten used to is traveling with his tray of medicines. I'm not really sure why. Something about the absence of a counter or flat surface makes me, you guessed it, panicky. After giving him his medicine I sat in the car for a few moments to compose myself. Until I noticed AJ seizing in the backseat. After a cluster of seizures, I became completely unglued. <i>Who does this?</i><br />
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After his seizures slowed I spread out a blanket next to the car and we waited for the balloons.<br />
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The balloons that never came.<br />
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For two hours we waited and waited and realized somehow we had missed them. Perhaps they flew in early? Two hours my sweet Mimi asked for those balloons while my anxiety shot up higher and higher. But after a while I began to witness and experience some things that were beyond the beauty of colorful balloons in the sky.<br />
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We had time just as a family.<br />
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Sweet precious time without any distractions.<br />
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Towards the end of our time in the field we walked down to the corner and saw the balloons bouncing up in the air a bit, firing just enough to make the balloons glow in the sunset. I was beyond disappointed that my girl, who can't see that far and <i><b>loves</b></i> balloons, was not able to see the hot air balloons. She needed to be right there in the front rows to be able to see the details of the balloons. Being in large groups of people causes her panic because she can't see what's going on. That much movement is very scary for her. So we chose to stay in the field. She couldn't see the tops of the balloons bouncing in the air because of her low vision.<br />
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I want so badly to give both of my children access to so many things because of their pasts. I don't want to give them the world by our culture's definition. Culture says I should buy them this because I didn't have it or do this because I didn't do it and want better for my kids. Culture tells me to do it all because we have access to it all. I want better for my kids in a different way. I want to give my children the simple and beautiful. I want to give my kids the opportunity to go to a local community event for free. To see something simple and beautiful. I wanted to see my daughter's eyes light up in seeing gigundo balloons in the sky. The simplest things make her happy. I want to see my son giggle and smile. I don't want my children to suffer. Anymore. I don't say that out of fear that they may some day. I know they will. I say this because they both have already suffered enough. This little trip to the festival seemed beyond simple. This wasn't a trip to Fiji. So why didn't it end up being simple?<br />
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I don't know.<br />
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But I do know that we did it.<br />
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We stepped out of our fear.<br />
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And I'm proud.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-63372645199203474612016-07-26T16:27:00.002-05:002016-07-26T16:27:45.315-05:00Fighting FearA few months ago I was sitting in one of our monthly Team AJ meetings with AJ's school team. As I was explaining his two most recent diagnoses (no executive function and little to no impulse control), one of his teachers asked for clarification of what those things meant.<br />
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It basically means he has no concept of right or wrong and doesn't understand consequences. It also means he has little to no control over his impulses. While the impulse control may improve a teeny-tiny bit over time, it will not be dramatic. Medication can help calm the impulses. However his impulse control will most likely stay static or consistently stay at the no control status.<br />
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"So what strategies did the neurologist give you?"<br /><br />None. We cannot change brain damage.<br />
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"So what do you do when you go to Target or other stores?" the teacher asked.<br />
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We don't go.<br />
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When AJ was younger it took me weeks to work up the courage to go to the grocery store with him. His sensory needs were beyond and everything about the grocery store was overstimulating. This was beyond tantrums and tiredness and the typical hardships of taking the kids to the store. I was so anxious there was no way I would be able to concentrate on my list and actual make the trip productive. Even if it was just for milk, I wasn't going to risk it. The day we made a successful grocery store trip I was over the moon and felt like I had won the freakin' Olympics.<br />
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I've found myself in a similar, yet different place with this idea once again. I have become an expert on talking myself out of something by the next day or the end of the day or whatever it is. Because of fear. Fear is the biggest F-word in my life. Fear of situations I cannot control with a child I literally cannot control.<br />
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The risk evaluation is an important piece for me. No risk, no reward, right? Except in our case the risk can turn into a larger risk. I straddle the place of staying safe on the bus and jumping off the cliff with the rest of the group. Daily. Certain things must be strategically planned out. Other things can fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants approached. But there is never one or the other, it always a combination of the two.</div>
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Grocery store shopping, or pretty much anything for that matter, now poses new challenges. AJ no longer fits in the cart. His brain will not allow him to stay with me if we are walking. He will grab everything under the sun without stopping. He will walk over the broken glass of salsa jars he's swiped and keep plowing on down the aisle. He cannot sit in the large area of the cart because 1. we live in times where what we did as kids is now considered dangerous and 2. he would impulsively dig into every single thing I would put in the cart. Many stores now offer these carts for special needs children. Our stores are not allowing these yet. If I take him in his wheelchair where will I put all the groceries?</div>
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The logistics alone are enough to numb me. </div>
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I can do everything right on my end, but I absolutely cannot control his brain.</div>
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Add the fear and I'm done for.</div>
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Lately I've been thinking that we've got to take some risks. Maybe it isn't going to the grocery store just yet, but perhaps its planning out a trip to the library. Or going for ice cream. Maybe its giving myself grace to process the aftermath of the trip. Maybe its giving myself grace that its not my fault if the trip is a disaster. Maybe its giving myself to breath, rest, and then try again.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-29104397855375074842016-07-08T09:56:00.001-05:002016-07-08T10:14:52.142-05:0010<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">T</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">en years ago a tiny little miracle was born in a small clinic in Escuintla, Guatemala. He should not have survived. Almost nine years ago he came home to America. His body was in crisis-hidden to the naked eye. He almost didn't survive. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">The gravity and accomplishment of AJ turning 10 has had us in awe for the last week. Sometimes, words just aren't needed.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.32px;">This is 10.</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-81927381365186298292015-12-31T17:01:00.001-06:002015-12-31T17:13:57.075-06:00Her First YearShe came barreling down the hallway with her teacher with that smug look on her face. <br />
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I am special. I am getting special treatment.<br />
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She tolerated me holding her simply because I was giving her attention.<br />
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We spent no more than a half-an-hour at the orphanage saying goodbyes and suddenly we were in the car with this stranger of a three-year-old.<br />
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She drank two bottles of water and every single snack we had brought for the almost four-hour car ride back to the capital. When we arrived at the passport office she lost it, screaming uncontrollably and wondering who we were and who those creepy people were. They were speaking Bulgarian, but they were still creepy and ordering her to stand still in a box-like structure to take a photo.<br />
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Dinner ended up in our room as she screamed uncontrollably in the crisp, white, well-lit when we sat in a booth in the restaurant in our hotel. Bedtime brought on a stronger pair of lungs and behaviors. They had warned us she didn't like sleep. I found myself in the bathroom most of the night, crying in the shower and texting family and friends. The adrenaline had faded and reality had arrived.<br />
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Our time in country was precious and bittersweet. We had the privilege of watching her let her guard down a little bit each and every day and more of her personality emerge. She was on a natural sedative (yes, I really just said that) and while she took it like a pro, we didn't see any changes. She enjoyed going downstairs to the restaurant to eat....and eat, and eat, and eat. She enjoyed outings-although in very small increments. Going from one building all your life to multiple locations with strangers was not her cup of tea. Honestly, nor was it ours. We all needed the downtime. Her brother was struggling here at home, which made the distance bittersweet. Loving on one baby while your other is suffering 5,000 miles away is not cool. Oh wait, we've been doing that-we just traded kids.<br />
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She didn't have much language, except for calling out for her teacher and saying "Da" when she'd hand you something/want something. She was a copycat and repeated English words very well. It didn't take her long to learn the words up, water, and bath. The first issue we saw with her vision was her consistent walking into the glass walls of the restaurant entrance.<br />
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Our first flight to Amsterdam proved to be everything I had prayed it wouldn't be. The moment passed security and wiped the sweat from our brows, I felt that familiar panic. This precious sweet girl, whom we love more than she could ever fathom, is in the middle of one of the biggest changes of her life. She had no idea what was happening. She screamed from the moment we boarded to the moment we landed, with the exception of a 10 minutes exhaustion nap. All of the memories of our trip home with AJ flooded back, as did my PTSD I spent years in therapy battling. We were there for her, even though she didn't want us to be.<br />
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The flight to Minneapolis from Amsterdam was remarkable. I held my breath most of the time and watched her dig into slight contentment of the situation. She was thrilled with the constant meals on board. By the last flight she was a pro, climbing in her seat and she was OUT even before we took off. She came home exhausted, sleeping barely an hour in over 24 hours. She came home much more fragile than I had expected her to.<br />
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She motioned for the stroller as we deplaned. As much as I wanted to hold my baby girl and greet those who came to welcome her, she needed to just be. She looks irritated and exhausted in photos from that moment. No doubt she was.<br />
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She sat quietly, although confused, in her car seat for the first time. Folding her hands gives her comfort. When we arrived home she was calm, until our dogs came inside. Understandably, she was terrified. After they returned to the backyard, she was fine. She walked into her room as if she had been there before. She asked for pajamas and was out cold before I even hit the floor to sit next to her toddler bed and make her feel safe.<br />
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She met her brother the next morning and was, for the most part, not impressed. They began to notice each other throughout the next few days.<br />
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She made fast friends with our black lab and shepherd, giving them treats and learning that they really are just gentle giants. She had some fear when they would be in her face or come around over her shoulder, which we attributed to her vision.<br />
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We took her off the natural sedatives she had been on once we were home. We don't believe they ever did anything for her.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">She didn't need sedatives, she needed <br />a family and consistent love.</span></b></div>
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She saw the ophthalmologist a week later. We learned that she is extremely <strike>lucky</strike> blessed as far as the colobomas in her right eye. It is pear shaped, which misses the center of her eye, giving her vision in that eye. The coloboma in her left eye is quite larger and is why she has no vision. She has light perception (can tell when its light out/dark out/lights on/lights off) in that eye. Her vision in the right eye was estimated between 20/100 and 20/400. Because of the type of low-vision she has, it is not easy to figure out what her eye sight is. Of course it isn't. 20/200 is considered legally blind. We were encouraged to return in a year or so when she has more language and can tell us what she sees via the symbol charts they use with kids, etc. The ophthalmologist was very impressed with her and how well she uses her vision.<br />
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While we were waiting for her eyes to dilate, she returned to the very chaotic, wild child we saw in the orphanage. A group of children came out of one of the rooms into the waiting room and she changed instantly. A few moments later the group ran back into one of the exam rooms and she ran behind them laughing like a hyena. We knew she wouldn't do well with group of children. Not yet, at least.<br />
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A few days later we were sitting in front of several medical professionals at her international adoption clinic appointment. She received raving reviews. We were told how lucky we were. We walked out of that appointment stunned. Wait a minute. No specialists to consult? No medical tests? No therapies?<br />
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Something has got to be wrong. <br />
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Because it just does.<br />
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We attended church much quicker than we ever anticipated, including Christmas Eve service. Christmas was fun, but she wasn't sure about all that was going on. Rightfully so. We played in the snow, she wasn't sure what it was.<br />
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She didn't smile very much the first month she was home. It was a large period of adjustment for all of us, much of which Jer nor I remember much of. She refused to let me rock her and she only wanted to be held on her terms. Her personality and smarts emerged a bit more each day, as did her defiance with the word "no" and anything else that was out of her agenda. She had/has some mild sensory issues, displayed in hand-flapping, rocking, and some other behaviors when she came home that subsided. The very worst was the first night we had her in Bulgaria. I spent quite a bit of time with our social worker talking about our concerns. Children who were favored in the orphanage come home with their own set of, ahem, issues. Bottom line, she was used to acting out, knowing exactly what to do to get attention, receive special attention....the works. If we didn't work on this with her, it would lead to a lifetime of her a manipulative person with poor relationships. The word "no" would spark 45 minutes of full-on meltdown along with some other rather ugly behaviors. Her brother's issues were all special needs related-not emotional. This was a whole new ball of wax for us. Toddler adoption is NO. JOKE.<br />
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Spring brought on her 4th birthday, which we celebrated very low-key. As much as this Mama wanted to throw a big shindig, our girl is a low-key gal. She had a special drink at coffee shop with mama and we painted our nails. We have a family tradition of ice cream cakes for celebrations. She was rather excited....<br />
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Spring also brought on evaluations by our school district and her first IEP. Knowing her history, we fought for her to obtain a mixture of services in a mixture of locations. We knew putting her in an early education classroom was going to be a disaster. Still, she needed and craved that learning component. She received special education instruction in the community (we'd meet her teacher at the park or library), vision services at home, and speech in the school setting. She didn't not allow new people into her world easily. It proved difficult to earn her credibility and for her to respond to outside authority. We should know, we had to learn it and we're her parents.<br />
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Left Eye vs. Right Eye via sight simulation glasses</div>
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{I wore them as much as I could </div>
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to see what her vision is like}</div>
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I watched from the sidelines as she struggled with large open spaces (hallways of the school and the entire setup of the children's area of our library) and ran like a banshee. Anything that was a wide open space like this hallway in the orphanage-she'd RUN.<br />
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I would sit and text friends watching the deterioration and disturbances that were happening inside her little being due to her past. I felt all the feels in each of those 45 minute sessions. I intercepted when necessary, but really tried my best to help her understand that these were her people too.<br />
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Honestly, I wasn't sure it would ever change.<br />
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No one truly understood. To be honest, I often felt like a four-headed monster trying to explain her adoption baggage. I was never making excuses for her, although my words were often taken that way. This was my first real experience with the lack of understanding of adoption in the school system. We cannot undue years in just a few months, people.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">We can never undo it, we move forward.</span></b></div>
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Unless you saw her, in that environment, you don't get it-which is why I am trying to explain it to you. Sincerely, Heidi<br />
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Indeed things <i>did</i> change. </div>
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Her very last day of school she walked magnificently to and from the speech room with her therapist. On her very last day of the library, she rocked each step like a champ. We had learned that front-loading works very well with her and that we need to explain things to her before, during, and after...everything. She has learned English very quickly and is a quick learner. Most of previous language was receptive. Her vision teacher often tells me she's constantly challenged because she does things she shouldn't be able to do.<br />
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Of course she does.<br />
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We also discovered she has echolalia. This is common with children who have low-vision. It has proven to be an asset and to be honest, a nuisance. It both helps and hinders here depending on the situation. She repeats what she hear and often gets stuck on whatever she's saying. In a positive light, she repeats the proper sounds and pronunciations with precision and can repeat exact intonations like a boss.<br />
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Her first summer home was action-packed. She experienced standing in and listening to the rain. She was fascinated. She discovered the trampoline. We celebrated her brother's birthday. She figured out how to pedal a bike all by herself. She went to her first parade and had her first picnic. We learned of her fear of being in wet clothes and being immersed in water (lake). We spent a week with family at a lake resort and she had an absolutely blast. She loved smores, bubbles, seeing puppies, and the old playground. She loved cuddles with grandpa, crafts with grandma, sitting in the raft in the lake, and ice cream with her brother.<br />
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We had toured and chosen a school for her 4K placement for the fall. As a way to practice and get to know her environment, she attended some summer sessions. A few days before the fall semester began I met with her teacher who told me they didn't think their school was the proper place for her. Its still a very sore subject for this Mama. What I will say is that she was completely misunderstood and was not wanted from the moment she set foot in that building. She attended for a few weeks after which we pulled her and sought other placement. The last thing she needed was another disruption in her life.<br />
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What came of that disruption was pure redemption. She is now at a private school with a small class size and SOARING.<br />
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She was challenged by the group events her class participated in, from the pumpkin farm and <br />
trick -or- treating. She rocked both of them. <br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">It is such a privilege to witness these firsts in her life. </span></b></div>
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We have worked through a fear of wind and a fear of splashing (because she can't see either, they are difficult for her to anticipate). A few months ago I learned that the caregivers at her orphanage never let the kids go outside when it was windy as they believed it would make them sick. The girl had literally never felt the wind in her face before.<br />
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She has learned to take turns, stand in line and wait, and express her emotions. She learned to come to us for comfort and fall asleep in our arms. She learned that her brother is different and does not talk. She began to share with me the events of her day and tell me who her friends are. She seeks her brother out and misses him when he's gone. She thrives on routine, but is flexible when it changes...as long as we explain what's happening. She began to ask about her grandma and when her grandparents in another state were coming. She gained a preference in TV, she is Dancing with the Stars biggest fan. Her concentrated/examination face looks like she's giving you the stink eye. We've learned that large groups make her nervous as she can't see everything that is going on. She loves to watch and HELP me cook and bake. She loves to help me do everything. She's grown so much that its impossible not to recognize it.<br />
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A few weeks ago she was evaluated by a low-vision clinic of providers. This was an awesome opportunity. She did so well and showed how much she has grown in SO many ways since her first eye exam. We learned about technologies/adaptations that we can use to help her maximize her sight and again, didn't get a clear answer to the level of her vision. That will come. She's fascinated by magnifiers and let me tell you, navigates iPads and iPhones just fine. She has a hard time with books that don't have enough contrast example The Mitten by Jan Brett, or those board books where they have images of every day objects. Often they match the color of the item to the background, so a pear on a green background, which proves difficult for her. In the same way, she doesn't always realize there is more sour cream on her white plate or applesauce in her yellow bowl. We're working on print recognition that is about 2" inches in size. The jury is still out regarding braille for her. She is recognizing letters, numbers, and spelling her name.<br />
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Christmas this year was magical as she was really into singing at her Christmas program, celebrating "Jee Birday", baking cookies, and sprinkling the reindeer food on the front lawn.<br />
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Every update I asked the orphanage for stated she was 22lbs. At her medical exam in Bulgaria she weighed 26.5 pounds and was 34.5 inches tall. She was snuggly fitting into 2T clothes on pick-up and in a tiny size 5 shoe. . It is often true that once they know the child has a family and that they will be leaving, they feed them better. Not great, but better.<br />
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After a year home, she has gained 8 pounds making her 34.5 pounds, is 39 inches tall, and has gone up four clothes sizes and four shoe sizes. She now wears a 4/5 and a size 9 shoe. Her hair reaches all the way down her back and has a luster, shine, and curl to it that was not there in the dull-brown we had when she came home. She has some serious eczema which we manage to keep at bay most of the time. That decreased dramatically with proper nutrition and hydration. She has a sweet tooth and is not a picky eater. Vegetables have been her biggest challenge, but in size/texture rather than taste. She was used to casseroles and soups with minute pieces of vegetables, if any. Donuts are her absolutely favorite food. She loves music. She does not like books that sing or stuffed animals that sing. She has a fear of elevators. She loves to line things up and stack them high. She loves to figure out how things work.<br />
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Parenting her has been the polar opposite of her brother, in more ways than I can count. I still find myself looking over at her and wondering what it was like when she wasn't here. Part of what has been challenging is the ease at which she adjusted to so many things, its like she's always been here. Lest we forget that indeed she hasn't always and we need to remember that. And sometimes, I miss the good stuff because we are in the thick of all the things. I do, I'll admit that. We have been so blessed by this little ball of light and redemption. She's much like her brother in that respect. They both bring so much light and love. We can't wait to see what the next year will bring for her.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">There is no shortage of miracles in this girl.</span></b></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-38114532036563071922015-11-29T10:03:00.002-06:002015-11-29T10:03:57.969-06:00Those first few months...<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you were to ask Jeremy and I what the first few weeks with Mimi were like, I'm not sure we could answer. I don't remember all that much and neither does he. Everything was a bit of a fog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">According to my notes...<br /><br /> <i>Mimi <span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">slept until 5am her first morning home. I consider that quite the victory since she only slept about an hour in a 24-hour period. . The kids meeting was very laid back and lack luster. I don't mean that in a negative way, just in an honest way. AJ looked at her oddly, as if to say, "Wait! You belong in my iPad!" </span></i></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">AJ went to school the two days following Mimi's arrival, which left the kids seeing each other very briefly both days.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> That was a smart move. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">It only took one day for her to achieve comfort with the dogs. She was exploring them Thursday morning and by Thursday night she was feeding them treats and giggling.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> </span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">She did so well its hard to grasp. Truly. Our first weekend has offered ample opportunity for the kids to get to know one another. It was so fun and joyful to watch. And, very interesting. Seeing them together makes me cry tears of sweet joy. Every time. By the end of the weekend Mimi was following AJ everywhere. </span></i><div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Breakfast is her biggest meal of the day, which is throwing me for a loop because AJ's is dinner. She alternates between her booster and the regular chair...she wants to be like all of us and sit on the regular chair. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Her eating overall has tapered off and she's not so hyper about water, food dropping, or moving food away. Thank you Jesus.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I was going to write so much more, but my brain is fog and mush and all things I can't remember.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">We are still fighting sickness, if you would pray, please. As of last night Mimi is on our timezone, but we are still completely exhausted trying to mind these two crazies.</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I remember from that period of time is binge-watching the entire Duck Dynasty series, people bringing delicious meals, some terrible post-flight vertigo (which I've never had before), and Jeremy and I rotating sleeping. During those first two weeks Mimi had a lot of trouble going back to sleep when she woke during the middle of the night.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Christmas was amazing for many, many reasons. A secret Santa blessed our family with gifts. I will never forget that feeling of love and such generosity. It wasn't about the gifts, it was about the thought and love that poured into our hearts. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I remember sitting on the couch on New Year's Eve reflecting on such an incredible year. An incredible journey. I also remember feeling intense emotions ranging from sadness, joy, guilt, worry, relief,and disbelief.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><br />We didn't go into details about how AJ really did while we were gone. The answer? HORR.I.BLE.<br />There was a brief honeymoon period when we arrived home, but it didn't last long. The first night home he crawled into bed with me, got as close to me as possible, and passed out. He has never done that in the seven years he's been home. He didn't move all night. He had missed us so terribly and was physically in terrible shape with all of that stress. While we were gone he did not eat, barely slept, and did not attend school. All he wanted to do was lay in a bed and roll. Either that or he was lashing out at my poor mother-in-law (Bless her). While we were in country I had the hardest time Skyping, seeing him suffer in our absence was unbearable. Do I sound over dramatic? Probably. But was I? No. This was real and raw and I was literally 5,000 miles away. He had done SO well during our visit trip, this was completely unexpected. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">When Mimi came home we knew we'd have some sibling issues. AJ had been the only child for a very long time. But we didn't expect what was happening. I had regular contact with our home study agency social worker very regularly. First, bringing home a toddler. Bringing home a toddler is NO.JOKE. AJ came home at 13 months, but was basically a newborn. This was two totally different worlds. Not only in age, but in so.many.other.ways. Mimi can HEAR. In fact, her hearing is her strongest sense. No more vacuuming or using the blender at night. Mimi can TALK. Oh this one was really hard to get used to. You just don't even know. While her appetite, panic over dropping food and food moving away from her decreased initially, it lasted for over two months. She hated being held for long periods of time and refused to let me rock her. She hated the word NO and screamed bloody murder uncontrollably for a long, long time. She was a favorite at the orphanage. And while there are SOOOO many blessings to that, it also comes with some hefty challenges. She had no boundaries and hated the word no. This, paired with her strong fighter spirit was...challenging.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">AJ began to go after Mimi. It was borderline violent. I hate that word, but we were scared. This was not normal, and we knew it. No matter how we were dumbed-down and assured this was a phase, it was not. It was suggested that we keep AJ and Mimi apart. If they were together we were to monitor them with close supervision. It.broke.my.heart. AJ was struggling in school, his behaviors were out of control and he wasn't sleeping. All of this was happening as we were trying to adjust to being a new family of four. It was too much. I wrote about AJ's 2014 <a href="http://ajsawesomeadventure.blogspot.com/2015/06/seven.html" target="_blank">here</a>, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><b>Whiplash from sweet to sour was happening daily. </b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">All of this hardship was paired with some intensely sweet moments.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">We never expected to attend church so soon with our girl. We never expected Christmas to go so smoothly. We never expected to be exploring another diagnosis for our son in such expectation. Balancing two children with very different, but very intense needs was beyond me. I felt ill-equipped, exhausted, and guilty.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Mimi liked to be busy and play, play, play. Watching her discover things was an amazing privilege...and still is. In her first few months home we gained a basic knowledge of her eyesight and saw her blossom into beautiful little girl. It wasn't until our first post-placement report (we have to send four reports to Bulgaria on her progress now that she's home) that I noticed something. She really didn't smile the first month or so we brought her home. I mean, at all. She still had that blank orphan stare. That, "I don't trust you and what is happening to me, I'm skeptical of everything right now" look. Oh how things changed....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pictures remind me of moments, places, and events that happened during those foggy months. I can't say much more other than I'm so thankful we are where we are today.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-55458678723662906032015-11-28T17:24:00.006-06:002015-11-28T17:24:58.510-06:00Coming Home...Day 10-Traveling Home {A Reflection}<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><b>{Day 10-Traveling Home-December 10, 2014}</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">The day that went on forever!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Mimi must have sensed we were leaving because she woke rather quickly after hearing us awake and quietly milling around. We left the hotel at 4:30am. Our hotel was so sweet they packed "to-go breakfasts" for us.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">When we checked in at the airport there was a small snafu-it seems only Mimi was listed as flying through to Milwaukee while Jeremy and I were listed through Minneapolis only. Wait, what? They fixed it and we moved on to security, where we both found ourselves sweating. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">The first flight was horrible. HOR.RI.BLE. The e</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">nd. No really. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I had terrible anxiety and didn't feel well at all. Mimi <b><i>screamed</i></b> the moment we put her seat belt on and didn't stop except for about 10 minutes of the flight. She was TERRIFIED. We were strangers, she was in a strange place, a strange space, and was confined. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">10 minutes of sleep on the first flight</span></span></div>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><br />We had a six and a half hour layover in Amsterdam. Ufta. We did everything we could to keep her entertained. We both took turns wheeling her around and the other resting. We made a lot of trips to the bathroom for diaper changes. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><br />The long flight was pretty much a dream. Other than being lonnnnng, she really did an incredible job. We liked Delta A LOT. We were seated toward the back of the plane where it narrows, so the back middle only had 3 seats for the last few rows. It was fantastic. She really did an INCREDIBLE job on that flight. She only slept for 20 minutes a crack twice, as it was hard for her to get comfortable and the second time another baby woke her up with his crying. We all had crying kiddos that took turns. At least they took turns.<br /></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i> The flight attendants on that flight were the NICEST and most experienced. She had one meltdown, because she was tired, and the flight attendant asked if I'd like a cool rag. Cool rags are AWESOME. It settled her right now and she eventally tipped over onto the pillow we had strategically placed on daddy's arm <i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i> She usually tips right<i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Let's Go!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nap #1</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mimi with the hippo Daddy bought her at the airport in Bulgaria</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Gelato!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Methodical</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Minneapolis was a dream as well. We were the last ones through immigration and customs and made our flight with ease with 10 minutes to spare. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">When we boarded for Milwaukee, Mimi was asleep 3 seconds after she sat down in her middle seat. And she slept the whole flight! We didn't know what to do! </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">She woke when we landed, even though she didn't want to. We had a a few peeps greet us at the airport and help us load everything in the car. We arrived home last night to balloons and streamers, and margaritas. Rock ON.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> First time in a carseat!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walking into her new home!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Three generations!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Finally in her room!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Discovering her rocking chair!</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Tired!</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">By the time I folded and sat on the floor, which took 1.5 seconds, she was asleep. We couldn't have asked for more. She was one tired cookie. We are SO glad to be home...thank you for all of your prayers and well wishes!!!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-90590061231620724782015-11-28T16:18:00.003-06:002015-11-28T16:18:53.893-06:00Coming Home...Day 9 {A Reflection}<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; text-align: center;">
I know. It's another picture of her sleeping. I can't help myself.</div>
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She had a hard time going down for a nap today despite being completely exhausted. I'm not sure why. She has this cry that is so, so desperate. Desperate even though I am right next to her. It hurts my mama heart. </div>
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<b>But it's not about me, it's about her.</b></div>
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She did let me rock her for about a minute and snuggled into my shoulder-which is the first time she's ever come in instead of keeping a safe distance or push<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">ing out while being held. Progress.</span></div>
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She'll wake up, well go down for lunch and all will be right with the world. For a little bit at least....</div>
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Yesterday we were informed of a little snafu regarding Mimi's visa. Jeremy had to take a taxi alone to the US Embassy and pick up the visa himself. This was not in the plan. I kept Mimi busy while we played by the windows in our room (her favorite spot) and watched impatiently for the cab # to approach the hotel. I never saw it. What ensued was a full on panic attack from me wondering what in the world we were going to do. My mind was on fast-forward. If Jeremy didn't pick up her visa we wouldn't be able to fly home....After a slew of messages flying back and forth, our guide assured me Jeremy was in the cab and on the way to the Embassy. He had just talked to the cab driver. Mimi wasn't sure what I was doing with all my sobbing. I was just so ready to get home and scared this was going to deter us from doing so. I turned on some music in attempt to distract my emotions and listened to "King of My Heart" by Love & Outcome.<br /></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">"You.are. bigger than any battle I'm facing...You.are.You.are..."</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">Skyping with her Big Bro AJ</span></div>
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Jeremy arrived about an hour later with Mimi's visa. I burst into tears the moment I saw him.</div>
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Last Sleep in Her Home Country</div>
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We are ready to come home.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-55579435089217952812015-11-28T15:42:00.003-06:002015-11-28T15:42:46.941-06:00Coming Home...Day 8 {A Reflection}<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<b style="font-size: 14px;">{Day 8}</b><br /><br />Today was yet another rainy, cold day. We stayed in until our US Embassy appointment this afternoon. I have never been so excited to see those words--Unites States. Woooo. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mimster in Red</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ready for her US Embassy appointment</span></div>
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The interview was quick and painless and there were only three other families there today. It was a breath of fresh air to see other families-one we had met our first day with our children at the passport office. We were expecting chaos at the Embassy so we were relieved when it was rather laid back. Mimi did remarkably well.</div>
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Something happens when former orphans are together-they all begin to play off one another. She let out a shriek, and tw<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">o other kiddos copied her and vice versa. She watches other adults and children very closely, especially children.</span></div>
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She was minorly stressed on the car-ride home, partly because she was tired and hungry. She started whining at me instead of asking for more of her snack. Its the little things I see in her. When we are in unfamiliar places, she reverts to her fight skills. We're making quite an impression ,as they have certainly decreased, but the Momma in me still is saddened when I see her in that mode. Keeping things consistent for her have helped. For example, she insists on having her shoes on all the time unless its bedtime or she's bathing. She freaked when we got ready to go to the Embassy today because her coat was on but not yet zippered. We make sure her morning snack is always cake/bread like it was at the orphanage.</div>
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Familiar paired with love and consistency is a beautiful combination. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today she climbed in bed with us for her nap. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_62a652" style="background-image: url(https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -204px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">heart emoticon</u><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;"><br /></u></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Addiba" is still around, although she calls both of us that, so we think its morphed into more of a generic reference for who is taking care of her. Still, we do the chant and she's good to go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday we Skyped and Facetimed a lot and it did our hearts SUCH good. Mimi is quite the riot and loves Skyping. Its a trip to watch her run from wherever when she hears the Skype "beeping" during a call being made. </span></div>
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We are over.the.MOON excited that tomorrow is our last day here. Both Mimi and I are feeling better. Thank you SO much for your prayers. And praise Jesus for finding cough drops in the candy section at the store...</div>
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We pick up Mimi's VISA tomorrow and then just twelve hours later we'll be bustin' outta here! Can you believe it? </div>
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xo</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-69784365113417514472015-11-09T14:52:00.006-06:002015-11-09T14:52:50.087-06:00Coming Home...Day 7 {A Reflection}{Day 7}<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tonight's post won't be a long one, but it is certainly full of many, many emotions. It's been 18 months since that day the call came about "two-year-old Maria". Tonight she is sleeping inches from us. Tonight she got out if bed several times and came to us to make sure we were here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We had absolutely no idea how we would get from that point to this point. But WE DID. WE. Mimi's army of love. You all have made this possible and we will always, always be grateful. The mi<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">racles that have happened during this process? Unmistakable.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I cannot get enough photos of her sleeping. She's really here. We're really here. Together. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-79588584554956779022015-11-09T14:11:00.001-06:002015-11-09T14:11:22.454-06:00Coming Home...Day 6 {A Reflection}<b>{Day 6}</b><br />
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Day 6<br />Very much a day of<br />Day 6? Already?<br />and<br />Only Day 6? Really?</div>
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We are utterly exhausted.</div>
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She woke up this morning and was very skeptical-until she saw her stocking from St. Nick. She was really excited about that.</div>
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After breakfast this morning Mimi had a rough time. This is not surprising as she's fighting a slight stuffy nose and isn't quite herself. We all napped until 2.</div>
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Miss Independent</div>
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It rained all day here. We played and played by our suite window. It made me feel like we were outside. With both she and I under the weather, we were not going out. I did see a slice of blue sky for a bit this afternoon.</div>
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In good/sombering news we've found Addiba.</div>
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I received an email back from Mimi's orphanage stating that they were stumped too until she called Mimi's teacher and asked. The kids call her Ali and add in the -ba as it is a way to greet someone here. Mimi's d and l sounds are similar....it's Aliba, not Addiba.</div>
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She's calling for her teacher.</div>
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It's usually during routine things, dressing, bathing, etc. she's calling our for her like she's in the next room.</div>
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Now that we know, I chatted with our social worker in WI to brainstorm how we can handle this. We do our chant (Mama ok, Daddy ok, Mimi ok) and when she calls out I remind her in Bulgarian that we said "ciao ciao" to Aliba.</div>
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She's not stressed about it so far which is a blessing. Being under the weather I'm sure she wanted her more today.</div>
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I am so thankful for then translation apps on my phone. Every day I'm looking for new words and feel like a champion when I nail it and she responds.</div>
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We are very ready to come home. Both she and I are slightly better today, so hooray for that. Hoping some sleep will help us feel even better. Nighty night everyone...<br /></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-48548986968258693572015-11-09T13:31:00.000-06:002015-11-09T13:31:20.676-06:00Coming Home...Day 5 {A Reflection}<b>{Day 5}</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today was a laid back day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We had breakfast and then ended up with a sleeping Mimster mid-morning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We played, slept, rested, ate, and went to the corner grocery.</span><br />
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Our hotel</div>
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She didn't have one single tantrum today.</div>
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She also decided that each time we came back from a meal that she should stripped down in the bathroom and come out handing me her clothes... Then run in by the bathtub and flash me a megawatt smile. She had three baths today. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i></div>
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We are still asking, no pleading for the real Addie-Ba to stand up. No really, please. I emailed the psychologist at the orphanage today to ask as it seems to be an important word to her. It's not a regular Bulgarian word ...</div>
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Tonight at dinner she decided to feed both of us. I made a silly sound after biting into a roll she shoved in my mouth...and the hilarity ensued. She mimicked me-sound and all.</div>
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She anti-rocked bedtime tonight. Instead she stayed with me, asked to be changed, snuggled hard and then crawled into bed and fell asleep.</div>
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I'm not sure how many times I have played what we are experiencing in my head. Before we got here. For months. I never could have imagined what we are experiencing. That's the thing about His timing, it's perfect and the way it's meant to be. About twice a day so find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then I stop myself from stealing my own joy, and watching her experience joy.<br />
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Prayer requests:<br />
Bulgaria and my stress asthma do not get along. Today we laid low on account of being tired, but also because my lungs felt like they were on fire. A lot of people smoke here and it doesn't take much to irritate me. Walking in and out of places is a sure fire place to be in the midst of it. But so think my flare came from going to the exchange center yesterday and standing in a 5x5 box in front of cashier window and having the whole area filled with smoke. My inhaler is helping, but it's just not something were going to get away from until we get to the airport. It comes in through the vents, etc. no one notices but me of course. So, prayers that I can continue to manage my asthma with my inhaler and hot water baths/showers.</div>
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Second, AJ is having a rough time at home. Please pray that his growing pains cease and give him a break and that his heart will settle in knowing well be home soon.</div>
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These down days aren't so bad after all....<br />
xo<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-41282705738524603312015-11-09T13:13:00.003-06:002015-11-09T13:25:23.608-06:00Coming Home...Day 4 {A Reflection}<b>{Day 4}</b><br />
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Today was a bit of a wild card.</div>
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She woke up and got out of bed looking for us! Not panicky, but she knew we were here. Praise Jesus. Jeremy was awake with eyeballs open so he was able to see her morning preciousness. She came over to me again as soon as the light was on. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dancing with Daddy</span></div>
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She was a bit manic about food at breakfast and ate quite a lot. This trend continued throughout the day. She got very panicky when she was hungry. She likes to carry bread/cake/rolls around and eat them, savoring them.</div>
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We had her medical exam and blood draw in the morning. The staff was incredibly nice, however the blood test proved to be difficult. They tried twice and ended up blowing a vein. She is so dehydrated nothing was popping up. So they had us go up to the pediatrician and she got it drawn with an old technique. Let's just say-EWWW.</div>
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Mimi was outstanding for the entire thing. You can tell she's been around the block. She was so calm during the exam and even when the lab techs were looking for a spot. Our big girl.</div>
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She cleared and is now 34.5 inches tall and 26.5 pounds. They also gave her a flu shot. That's a US requirement now too. We were in and out in 45 minutes!</div>
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The blood draw tests for TB, which she's negative. However, in the middle of our process the US began requiring the kids to be tested for TB before entering the US which is why our trip this round is longer. She's been vaccinated for it, but those who have been often test false positive with the skin poke, so it's recommended to do the blood test instead. Quicker results and more accurate.</div>
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After the medical we hung out for a while, during which she ate approximately an entire pantry of snacks. She cleaned us out.</div>
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We went to the large mall center here with another adoptive family. The minute we got into the cab Mimi started screaming-very odd. Then we realized she thought we were going back to the clinic. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_d55a98" style="background-image: url(https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -119px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">frown emoticon</u></i> she settled down about halfway there.</div>
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The mall was beautiful and a unique experience. Sofia is very fashion forward. Very. Mimi loved the stroller. She started to panic as she was hungry and in a new place. She twists/taps her curls for comfort. Or she pulls her clips out slowly. We got some delicious pizza at the food court. We spent about an hour and a half just sitting and eating, letting her eat. She started holding two pieces in her hands, which was adorable, but also heartbreaking. We just do our best to try and understand and reassure her there will be enough.</div>
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We walked around, stopped and got some new toys for the weekend and she walked some laps with Daddy.</div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">I, being the control freak I am, didn't really enjoy the mall as much as I should I have. In fact my comments on it being beautiful cracked me up when I was reading through and adding photos. I was so panicky I just wanted to go home. And I may have snapped at Jeremy 3,245 times. I don't do so well with unpredictability.</span></div>
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We Facetimed with the Grandma's once we got back to the hotel which was super fun. We were a little late in ending our chat so she spiraled when dinner wasn't here fast enough. We were able to calm her though. Progress.<br />
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She's really understanding us more and using her English well. However, would the real Addiba please stand up? She says "Addie-bah" all the time and no one knows what it is...</div>
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She discovered how to blow bubbles in the tub tonight which was a privilege to experience her figure that out. Her delight is pure joy.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Exploring her new bowling set.</span></div>
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She allowed me to feed her (not to self she does not like extreme temperatures) dinner.<br />
And the waiter brought up a basket of rolls just for her. I really love room service. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_7f72ac" style="background-image: url(https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -442px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">wink emoticon</u></i></div>
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Bedtime went really well. She really did great. She hung with is on the bed and would walk around brushing her hair. It's really interesting to see her calm. I think the orphanage was really, really stressful on her. I saw remnants of that when we went to the mall. She pulled out stims I hadn't seen since we visited. Her nystagmus seen to pick up when she's stressed. I nearly had a panic attack just wanting to go and calm her.</div>
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Today is is the beginning of a 3.5 days stretch where we have nothing to do.... Please pray that we can keep ourselves busy and keep our sanity <i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i> there is an outdoor Christmas market we are hoping to go to at some point. Other than that we need to hit the grocery store today.</div>
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Please also pray for her hydration. I brought some pedialyte powder packs to add to water but she doesn't like sweet stuff ( unless it's finger cake of sometype). She's not showing distress over drinking anymore, but adding a little extra umpf would help this mama feel better.</div>
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Today I found myself angry. And it's crept in several time now since we've had her. No child should have to go through this. I love her staff that cared for her, but I am so angry with the circumstances of the orphan. It is such bold hypocrisy. My brain was swirling a mild a minute at the mall. She doesn't deserve to have to process all this new, exhibit stims, and feel scared or threatened. It's not fair.</div>
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She's a beautiful ball of hope, peeps.<br />
xo</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-50170838005570348982015-11-09T12:24:00.004-06:002015-11-09T12:26:16.593-06:00Coming Home....Day 3 {A Reflection}{Day 3}<br />
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Today was a beautiful day. Not in terms of weather, but in terms of all things Mimi.</div>
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This morning started out with breakfast, as usual. She figured out the elevator takes her to eat, so she gets pretty excited.</div>
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We came upstairs and decided to play. And I mean play. The weather has been damp, cold, and rainy the entire time we’ve been here. We colored, we discovered playdoh, we worked on our English, we put puzzles together and tried on everyone’s shoes-again.</div>
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She waited patiently for both her lunch and dinner in the restaurant. This place is awesome. The food is so good and the staff is amazing. Mimi managed to charm everyone she came in contact with, from the British man in the lift (did I just say lift?!) to the business meeting that let out as we were entering the restaurant for lunch. I was having a coronary waiting watching her wait, waiting for the meltdown that never came. Parenthood should come with wine. Well, we have stores that sell wine and places that serve it, so I guess that counts.</div>
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She came to us willingly, both when we asked her to and of her own free will. She wanted to sit on our laps.</div>
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She only had two temper tantrums today, which were mild in comparison to the last two days and were of the “I am 3” flavor. She has very little tolerance for dropping or losing things. As in she get very upset and screeches. I attribute this to living with 14 other tiny (precious of course) vultures. Nothing was exclusively hers. So if she drops the playdoh or a cup, or a piece of roll she freaks out. Not today. Not once. She’s a natural fighter, with a fighting spirit. It’s the way she has survived the thrived. She needs to learn that there will always be enough food, enough water, enough of what she needs. She will learn to have things of her own and how to share.</div>
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I have literally seen her entire being RELAX.</div>
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I woke from an unexpected nap (translation: Mommy passed out on the bed) and asked Jer were she was. He told me to roll over. There she was, sleeping next to me. </div>
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Didn’t I just write yesterday that she doesn’t nap so we aren’t forcing it?<span style="line-height: 1.38;">I remember she had got on the bed and crawled over me but I just assumed she had gotten down and started frolicking as usual. She did not.</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">People. This is awesome.</span></i></b></div>
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This girl’s hardest part of the day is bedtime/sleep. We knew this ahead of time, as we were told she doesn’t like to go to sleep. If an adult is in the room with her that she respects, she’ll stay in bed, but she’ll still scream (and I mean SCREAM). The pattern is panic/angry screaming followed by rocking sitting up and then flopping over on her stomach just before she falls asleep. When she wakes in the middle of the night she rocks back to sleep. When she’s up for the day, but knows she’s not supposed to get out of bed (her thoughts, not mine) she will begin to do this VERY quiet rhythmic whine that changes tone and gets a bit panicky the longer she’s awake. I heard that the first morning, but not this morning.</div>
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One of the most difficult things has been for me to watch both my children rock as a self-stimulation. She’s been self-soothing herself to sleep since she’s been born. You can’t just break that. No gangbuster approach is going to do any good.</div>
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Tonight I thought I’d hold her and walk around the room singing. The minute I picked her up she realized that bedtime was coming and lost it. The screaming, the tears, the flipping backwards all ensued. I moved to the chair, where we had sat earlier in the day and started humming instead of singing, thinking the language difference was bothering her.</div>
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Sure enough…she began to calm. She strokes her curls for comfort. Oh my heavens. So I followed suit and repeated Mama, Mimi, ok. Mama, Mimi, good. Over and over and over. Once she calmed I put her in bed. She rocked briefly and then fell asleep. She responded so well.</div>
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Tomorrow we go to have the US Embassy required medical exam and TB blood test drawn. Please say a prayer for her. And us. Exhaustion set in today. Gentle progress, friends.<br />
xo</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-8602423602963183132015-10-12T14:26:00.000-05:002015-10-12T14:30:33.523-05:00Coming Home...Day 2 {A Reflection}<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>{Day 2}</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mimi woke up soaked. She slept fairly well. Listening to her stim herself was a bit torturous. It has been a <i>long</i> time since I've heard/watched that. She woke up several times during the night and violently rocked herself back to sleep. Waking up soaked was our sad confirmation that she didn't drink enough while at the baby house. This is common, but that didn't make watching her beg for water any easier. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We braved breakfast and</span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.32px;"> it went fantastic. I thought this might be a better approach as the breakfast buffet had food "ready". I was hopeful she would see the food and make the connection. She did and enjoyed some Bulgarian yogurt with honey and other fresh foods. She sat on my lap to eat. She was charming and really enjoying the individual attention she was receiving from both of us. That simultaneously warmed and broke my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We chose to stay in today since yesterday was so overwhelming. We played and played and played. She got in some good bonding time with Daddy and learned two English words "more" and "up" today. We saw the true meaning of "She doesn't like to sleep in the afternoon". Afternoon naps were forced. Anything forced, this chica takes a FAST detour.</span><br />
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We received an email from Tatiana giving us her schedule, which helped tremendously and also told us that they were doing the Bulgarian version of toilet training. That's why she runs and stands in the corner rather frequently.<br />
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We went down for dinner,met a fellow adoptive family, and watched our girl sit at table like a big girl and wait. She ate all of her soup and four rolls (not kidding). We're still struggling with the water thing. She thinks everything is going to go away. If she drops something its the end of the universe. Translation: Fragile cargo. Handle gently yet firmly.<br />
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She had her first bath with us tonight. She did great and went to sleep much easier.<br />
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We have nothing on the docket until Thursday (medical exam and blood draw for TB testing). Friday through Sunday are open as well. Monday will be the US Embassy Appointment and Tuesday picking up her visa. Wednesday we fly home.<br />
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Four days with no agenda? Hmmm we must find some trouble to create....</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-51164393803403875612015-10-03T18:56:00.000-05:002015-10-03T18:56:40.598-05:00Coming Home...Day 1 {A Reflection}<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>{Day 1}</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b>A heavy fog greeted us as we began our journey to Sliven. Our car lost electrical power three times during the 3.5 hour drive, leaving me silently panicking in the backseat while our guide was, I'm pretty sure, swearing in Bulgarian on the phone with someone about this problem. When we lost power and pulled onto a way side that held a burned-out bus on its side, I literally prayed with all my might to just.let.us.make.it. and we'd deal with whatever followed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As we pulled onto the road leading to Mimi's town from the highway (I call it the "Road to Nowhere") sleet began to fall and the song "I'll be home for Christmas" came one the radio. It moved me to tears and beyond words. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When we arrived at the orphanage, I noticed the gate was now adorned with an actual doorknob and indeed locked. This been installed since the last visit. It made me incredibly sad. We had to wait seconds for a staff member to come out and unlock it. It felt like an eternity. We walked inside to see Tatiana and Eli (Mimi's psychologist and teacher) running down the hallway to greet us with big hugs. The experience went something like this: Hug then give gifts. Hug then hear what they had to say. Eli runs to get her camera. Someone in the office needs us to sign something. Did we bring clothes and shoes? Yes. Oh the shoes are way too big...no problem. I had asked for her to keep the outfit she was wearing on, as something for her to look back on when she is older. Eli told me she'd just give me the shoes she was wearing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We were given a small photobook of Mimi's life in the baby house in Sliven. What a treasure. Tatiana went through the whole thing with us and explained what certain things were, photos of her as a baby, photos of her for Baba Marta, with Santa, and with her friends. The ones that blew me away? There is a tradition in Bulgaria that when I child begins walking they set items out on a table in the middle of the room. The child walks around the table to choose an item. It is said that whatever they choose will be their profession. Our girl chose a book. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tatiana also wrote Mimi a letter, upon my request via email, about her life in the orphanage. She had printed it on a beautiful piece of stationary. She</span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.32px;"> thanked us for staying up late every week to Skype. Um, no. Thank YOU. She told us how important it was to her and how important she felt it was for Mimi to create that connection with us. She shared that Mimi really loved Fridays...she knew it was the day she'd Mama and Tati (annnnd get some treats but hey....). She would light up when Tatiana would come get her from the playroom and the other kids would get jealous. I cried. Those tender hearts. Mimi</span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.32px;"> would return to the playroom feeling all important.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh here she comes, walking down the hallway....in all her Miminess!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She was happy to see us and knew who we were...even though we weren't on a screen. This girl is so much a part of a family. While her care was still group care, she is SO LOVED. These women were standing wiping their tears when we left. They insisted on walking us outside to the courtyard. They insisted on 3,245 pictures. I love them. We love them. Mimi loves them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We got in the car and she did so very well. Even though our ride back was longer due to more fog and the car faulting one more time, she did well. She ate almost the entire in the car. She shared her snacks with me which was a step in the right direction. As in a pretzel stick going into my mouth, or nose. Whatever. She ate all of the fruit snacks, pretzels, chips, and drank two bottles of water. A LOT of water. I've never seen a child so thirsty for water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We arrived at the Passport Center just in the nick of time and took 2,195 pictures in an effort to get a picture for her passport. First, this place was jammed with adults, which I'm sure she's never seen so many in her life and big oversized BRIGHT fluorescent lights. She was in my arms when we walked in and she looked up and panicked instantly. (I mention this as its one of the things our vision specialist told us to watch for....changes in her mood/etc when in bright or dark places,etc. She was stressed, tired, anxious, grieving, check all of the above. This girl has a scream that would wake King Tut. Oh my stars. When it comes out, its terrified and full of emotion. Its ugly and raw and difficult for her to calm. We also started to notice her loosing her balance A LOT and seeming very disoriented. When she falls its often wonky and well, its just its own flavor. It wasn't pretty, but after a run to the car and a very savvy attorney who worked her magic, we got a photo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We returned to the hotel and after hanging for a bit we decided to go downstairs to the empty white bright restaurant for dinner. See where I'm going with this? Yeah, nada. She had a full on meltdown and we asked for our dinner to be brought upstairs. She was grieving, tired, ALL OF IT HIT HER AT ONCE.<b><i> </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>How do you comfort a child whom you love and want to soothe who thinks you are the green martian that just stole them from their happy planet?</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She calmed and ate with us. She allowed me to feed her some, which was unexpected as she's such an independent eater. When you don't have a mini table and chairs, you improvise. She allowed me to feed her with a fork, which I'm not sure she'd ever eaten with, and then she got it a little too far in her mouth-that was the end of it. She munched on some french fries and then she was done.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4G7zfwGVIY_EYjT4K2biAHK1uJ4mHKKTGEn3eWeGlgbnLp56bdMs0JgXnXi-tCaft6woRG5x9RuBcY8XmoxmJzt6HbjMbp1Cf_u7imphPzlsBDDu9aR-oamuWdgkK94R8Red5erINjto/s1600/FRENCH+FRY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4G7zfwGVIY_EYjT4K2biAHK1uJ4mHKKTGEn3eWeGlgbnLp56bdMs0JgXnXi-tCaft6woRG5x9RuBcY8XmoxmJzt6HbjMbp1Cf_u7imphPzlsBDDu9aR-oamuWdgkK94R8Red5erINjto/s320/FRENCH+FRY.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Remember when we visited her in July and they told us how she avoids sleep? By screaming? Heavens. And all we could do was be there and watch. Once she fell asleep, she had a pretty good night's rest, minus a lot of dirty diapers. She wandered over when I turned on the light this morning. She snuggled up to me for cuddles and let me hold her for about 10 seconds. She is constantly on the go or engrossed in something. I took it as a step in the right direction...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jer slept while round 2 of my adrenaline kicked in and I was up most of the night feeling it come down. Crying, bawling, shaking, processing, texting adoption friends and my mom in the bathroom after showers trying to calm myself down, denying, scared, terrified, excited, worried, etc. listening to her little feet slide on the sheets as she moved in her sleep 1,204 times. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxElexCWgNB0HYIShDgRMWbKF9QvpPi3iYUJMFsfkkoaAIlK4z2q1zjx-5OlomlCqAzjMtcufgKedQZzL6Gxqw2jwTrBRWiJsMUiLaQPR-bSxGUntff7fl2WHYN-DEycBBuRARUMEuMNw/s1600/meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxElexCWgNB0HYIShDgRMWbKF9QvpPi3iYUJMFsfkkoaAIlK4z2q1zjx-5OlomlCqAzjMtcufgKedQZzL6Gxqw2jwTrBRWiJsMUiLaQPR-bSxGUntff7fl2WHYN-DEycBBuRARUMEuMNw/s400/meme.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The thing about adoption. Its two-sided. Its beautiful. But its also ugly. The circuit between the two can switch at any time. We have a whole new normal happening now. You survive, one hour, one minute, one second. Whatever you need to. There is no magic duct tape that will heal all that has happened, and will continue to happen in the next few days. It needs to come together at its own pace. And I know it will.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If not, there are plenty of vodka mini bottles in our mini-bar.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-55786795591832698472015-09-15T14:45:00.002-05:002015-09-15T14:45:29.538-05:00Brave Restoration<div style="text-align: center;">
I've been doing my best to contrive words for what I experienced last weekend.</div>
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In March I became part the launch team for Jen Hatmaker's new book <i>For The Love</i>. </div>
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I mentioned it in this<a href="http://ajsawesomeadventure.blogspot.com/2015/08/a-review-for-love-by-jen-hatmaker.html" target="_blank"> post</a>. The object of the game was simple. </div>
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Receive an advanced copy of the book, read it, promote it.</div>
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Except that's not what happened. </div>
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What happened was something none of us could have ever imagined.</div>
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Our launch team became a community of women (and four men) </div>
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who were organic, raw, real, genuine, and just downright epic.</div>
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We didn't start off that way. It began rather shallow. "Hi, I'm so-and-so, I live here, and I'm SO EXCITED!" As we began to receive our books, quotes began to fly around and the real began to creep in. We moved from the shallow to the deep end. We began to share things that maybe some of our nearest and dearest didn't know. We shared the hard. The struggles. It was a safe place. The hopes. The dreams. We loved on each other. We got silly. For reals. People who lived in common areas began to meet up, prayers were asked and said a mile a minute, and we began showering each other with incredible love. My Facebook news feed was clogged with For The Love Launch Team member posts every single day. </div>
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Somewhere along the line, someone {<i><b>joking} </b></i>suggested a launch team party at Jen's farmhouse. </div>
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<i><b>And then Jen invited us all to her farmhouse for a Launch Team Party.</b></i></div>
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As I type this I am still finding it hard to put this experience into words. I wasn't going to go. Insert one of the 452 excuses I made here. Some incredibly thoughtful women decided to start a scholarship fund for women who wanted to attend the party. By the time this venture was completed, 27 women, myself included, were scholarship recipients. </div>
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As I was boarding my first flight, a woman said, "I'm on the launch team too!" When we arrived in our connecting city, we met up with another launch team member and flew together to Austin. When we arrived in Austin, we picked up another!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbsG-8GxScVjr0R7v8wbpO2D1FL082UxGhqpdx6A5jNktArqD7nXi6Q5qFn4vtai7JPEVSNN3tP4f79k1AFtve3xeLQSv45B6zokOXAqpqWHV83yUS_ZIBYx7jHccLgzPyPwvFXT0GxQ/s1600/11999971_10207802852614610_1524033445_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbsG-8GxScVjr0R7v8wbpO2D1FL082UxGhqpdx6A5jNktArqD7nXi6Q5qFn4vtai7JPEVSNN3tP4f79k1AFtve3xeLQSv45B6zokOXAqpqWHV83yUS_ZIBYx7jHccLgzPyPwvFXT0GxQ/s400/11999971_10207802852614610_1524033445_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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We greeted one another with hugs. We were not strangers.</div>
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I stayed in a house with twelve other women. </div>
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Twelve incredible souls that are now my dear friends. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9DP_2xIvkOFnBbaFNouoqd0iY8QvPu4eooQpvEskCKdc0iTIsCCsYRAzQ7NRXNSudPNnwUj7-yT5XI24-PrNKEUZD03JkIAUgrW6KKS3ANeyrlnyFOmq4TqL9T_dePYjvtVfCtKai_lc/s1600/12032345_10207802852774614_1073961896_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9DP_2xIvkOFnBbaFNouoqd0iY8QvPu4eooQpvEskCKdc0iTIsCCsYRAzQ7NRXNSudPNnwUj7-yT5XI24-PrNKEUZD03JkIAUgrW6KKS3ANeyrlnyFOmq4TqL9T_dePYjvtVfCtKai_lc/s400/12032345_10207802852774614_1073961896_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Initially, the excitement was all about going to Jen's. Meeting Jen. </div>
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It was a backyard party y'all. </div>
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Two hundred + women, loving each other, loving Jesus, </div>
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and embracing this incredible community we had built.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbA8Nx6s9tO3oEZeeaiw6j48hpal6gqaaTKy17oqXgZ7S5xk2Kq413JpA6tZG-NDkd5VoqMTnJ5ILYRALSpncM188T7eeOA4MYtysejx-hNanGUGsDhjxvaxAVk0VlADd-EoAghqYaEY/s1600/12033582_10207802852814615_1161810265_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbA8Nx6s9tO3oEZeeaiw6j48hpal6gqaaTKy17oqXgZ7S5xk2Kq413JpA6tZG-NDkd5VoqMTnJ5ILYRALSpncM188T7eeOA4MYtysejx-hNanGUGsDhjxvaxAVk0VlADd-EoAghqYaEY/s400/12033582_10207802852814615_1161810265_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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{Dinner on Jen's porch}</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">One of our sweet thirteen shared with me that she felt I was brave for coming. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I didn't feel brave for coming.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I left feeling brave. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Brave with clarity and direction. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Brave to implement changes in my life that are long overdue. <br /> Brave to find myself again. <br />Brave to take some things off my beam. <br />Brave in realizing so many things. <br />Brave in just being me.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Community is a struggle for me. <br />It's something I have wrestled with since I was a young girl. <br />None of these women knew this, but they still love me for me. <br />I'm quick to brush things off because my life is so obtuse sometimes. <br />I either omit and ditch the participation factor or risk it and <br />find myself vulnerable in sharing, automatically feeling like I've overshared.</span></div>
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Still.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I feel brave.</span></b></div>
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On her website, Jen shares this little nugget:<br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4e4a41; font-family: Questrial, Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 27.2px; text-align: start;"> <i>I want our home to be lovely and comfortable and sacred. </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4e4a41; font-family: Questrial, Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 27.2px; text-align: start;"><i>I hope folks leave our home more restored than when they walked in the door.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4e4a41; font-family: Questrial, Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 27.2px; text-align: start;"><i> -Jen Hatmaker</i></span></div>
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Well.<br /><br /> I feel beyond restored and I was just in her backyard. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-2686822498691069972015-09-13T15:02:00.000-05:002015-09-13T15:02:07.965-05:00My Favorite Adoption Story: One in a Million<div>
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.56px;"> I am so very excited to be partnering with Show Hope as a blogger for the Show Hope Blogging Network. I'll be writing to raise awareness and encourage discussion about the global orphan crisis. </i></div>
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Jeremy was very confused when I told him about this particular assignment.<br />
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<b><i>Share your favorite adoption story</i>. </b> </div>
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"Well, why aren't you sharing ours?" he said. I could. But most of you already know those. I want to share a story of incredible love, determination, hope, and grace. <br />
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I first met Amy when our names were shouted out in the same small group pairing of a summer women's bible study group. I knew of a few women in our group but didn't really <i>know </i>them. As we went around our precious circle, I learned a bit about Amy and her family. When she shared her family was in the process of adopting from China, my heart skipped a beat. <br />
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A few weeks later Amy came to group clearly smitten. She could barely contain herself as she flipped her iPad around and showed us a picture of this precious little girl. "Isn't she beautiful?!" Indeed she was. She shared the story of a sweet baby girl Esther in China who went to heaven {due to a virus + her heart defeat} before her adoptive family was able to bring her home. Esther's family designed T-shirts printed with "So Loved", with 100% of the profits of the proceeds funding a future heart surgery for an orphan in China. A sweet angel named Kate had her future heart surgery fully funded!<br />
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Amy showed us the picture of "Kate". And that was that.<br />
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No it wasn't.<br />
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Six months later "Kate" was referred to Amy's family. <br />
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A one in a million shot. Literally.<br />
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Amy wrote, "Only God writes a story like this."<br />
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And so it was.<br />
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Kate became Grace.<br />
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That heart surgery? That was prayed for and supposed to occur in China? Never happened.<br />
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I watched from afar as their family dynamic changed in anticipation for Grace. I watched Amy fight fear and worry as her sweet baby girl was thousands of miles away, being hospitalized over and over again. I had heard her speak about their adoption process months before and watched her growth and trust in Him. When it was real, she was real. I watched her develop a deep, deep passion for orphans. Hundreds of us stalked her Facebook page for updates while they traveled to China. We waited for that glimpse of the family all together and watched as her little personality emerged slowly but surely.<br />
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We watched Grace undergo the heart surgery she so desperately needed. We witnessed a visceral love and tenderness that goes far beyond what we think we are capable of. We watched as Grace went from blue to pink. We saw Grace change by the healing grace of God. Its been a few years since she arrived home and hearing the word <i>grace</i> still causes me to think of <i>Grace</i>.<br />
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I'm truly not doing any justice to all things Grace. I'm really not.<br />
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But what I do want to say is Grace's story holds a special place in my heart because it gave me hope. Hope for a mama who was beyond broken and had a very jaded view of adoption. Hope for a mama who did not trust. Hope for a mama who thought her parenting journey was over. Healing to a mama who learned that its okay to not know everything. Healing to a mama who desperately needed to see God's working. Our stories matter. We never know who's listening. I'm so thankful I met Amy, her family, and sweet Grace.<br />
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Grace changes everything.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQI2lgMVbvrIv9pJN6f8GWq2VcQXMxpw6qHJXeygs-__LE3zEK7pZTZAUYHiSg7B89pajU4cTd1mNt-ghGyb6G06ZJG_D9uuxUb5DoJ6ofK-cR3qBvWfcsrK7qmOWdy4Suur6TgT4GHM/s1600/11998727_10207784011223587_273471603_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQI2lgMVbvrIv9pJN6f8GWq2VcQXMxpw6qHJXeygs-__LE3zEK7pZTZAUYHiSg7B89pajU4cTd1mNt-ghGyb6G06ZJG_D9uuxUb5DoJ6ofK-cR3qBvWfcsrK7qmOWdy4Suur6TgT4GHM/s400/11998727_10207784011223587_273471603_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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You can find Amy's blog <a href="http://www.alongway2go.com/" target="_blank">here</a>. </div>
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She also contributes monthly at <a href="http://www.nohandsbutours.com/" target="_blank">No Hands But Ours</a></div>
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<a href="http://nihaoyall.com/2014/08/so-loved-now-available.html" target="_blank">So Loved</a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-89792149308466181572015-08-18T18:44:00.000-05:002015-08-18T18:58:49.926-05:00A Review: For the Love by Jen HatmakerFive months ago, something extraordinary happened. On a whim, I filled out a form to be part of the book launch team for Jen Hatmaker's new book <i>For The Love</i>. Seriously. Who does this sort of stuff and actually gets a reply?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Turns out-I do.</span></div>
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For the last several months it has been an HONOR to be part of Jen's launch team. What started as an orthodox practice for launching a book became a community of women (and a few men!) on fire for Jesus, each other, and of course <i>For The Love</i>. We became a tribe full of encouragement, hope, passion and truth. </div>
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Part of my <strike>duty</strike> honor as a launch team member is to share my review of <i>For The Love</i>. </div>
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Now, I know what you are thinking. <i>You're a Jesus girl. One of <b>thoooooose</b> people.</i></div>
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I am and am not.</div>
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If you aren't a Jesus girl or guy, please keep reading. </div>
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It is true, I am a Jesus girl. But I am not one of those people. I am not a fan of religion to be honest. I am Christian by way of my love for Jesus Christ. </div>
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<i>But you love Jesus and all that stuff. Of COURSE you loved this book!</i></div>
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I have read books people. Lots of different books. Truth be told: I'm not a fan of preachy books. At all. But this book isn't that. This book is Jen.</div>
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Jen writes <i>For The Love</i> from with a real, raw, and fresh approach. </div>
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If you aren't familiar with Jen Hatmaker, you should be. Get on that. She writes to you as if you are sitting on her couch, wrapped in a blanket, enjoying a cup of coffee and shooting the breeze. She writes about serious things, like slowing down, growing older, family, kids, church, crappy Christians, women, marriage, and people. She also writes with a ridiculous sense of humor and wit about crotchless yoga pants, supper clubs, leggings, and finding your people. I've never read a book with such a balance between the real and funny in life. She is transparent and does not mince words. She is brave and inspires me to be brave. In life and in my journey as an aspiring author. I cried tears and laughed so hard...well you'll see. I highly encourage you to pick up this book, and pick one up for your friend too. Share the love. It is THAT good. Never have I wanted to buy a copy for every single woman I know-until now. </div>
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Here are my top five <strike>long</strike> quotes from <i>For The Love</i> and my thoughts on each:</div>
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<i>"Wise women know what to hold onto and what to release,</i></div>
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<i>and how to walk confidently in their choices--no regrets, no apologies, no guilt." </i></div>
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and</div>
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<i>"You can say no, and no one will die."</i></div>
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I know, that's two. But they just go together.</div>
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Jen opens <i>For The Love</i> with a topic that speaks to every woman. The balance game we all play. The first chapter, titled "Worst Beam Ever" struck me to my core. Already, I was crying. Social media, a blessing and a curse, creates the illusion that we have it all together, all the time. We show the best of ourselves for the world to see. The phrase #offthebeam began floating around the launch team conversations and I've referenced it a few times with my people looking at me like I'm insane. We must chose what to keep on the beam and what to take off. Examine what is truly important. Dolphin sandwiches aren't. Ok? It is ok to say no. Really. Not everything has to stay on the beam.</div>
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photo cred-@jengarwood<br />
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<i>"The timing is never right. Forget that. It rarely just falls into your lap. You are probably not guaranteed success. This might be a crapshoot. It will require sacrifice from you and maybe your people and you might step out on shaky, shaky legs. But off your go because we are not created to stand still, even though that is safe and familiar and you are guaranteed never to fall or stumble or grow weary. We were made to run."</i></div>
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Eons ago, when my husband and I were trying to have a baby, my mother-in-law told me that the timing would never be right. Indeed, the timing in my life has never been right. Things happen when they happen, despite my deep need and complex efforts to control them. Many times I've felt those shaky legs. But Jen is right. We were not created to stand still. I think it is a safe assumption to say that safe and familiar are similar among all of us, but where we run and what makes each of shaky is very different. I don't want to stand still. Do you?</div>
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<i>"We live in a strange unprecedented time when face-to-face relationships are becoming optional. It's tricky, this new online connectivity, because it can become meaningful and true; it has given way to actual friendships I treasure. But it can also steal from friends on porches, the ones who truly know you, who talk about real life over nachos. Online life is no substitute for practiced, physical presence, and it will never replace someone looking you in the eye, padding around your kitchen in bare-feet...walking in your front door without knocking."</i></div>
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This. Oh I have such a love/hate relationship with social media and all this technology. Do I love it? Is it convenient? Of course. Do I love keeping in touch with those I don't see every day? Of course. But it has also cheapened things for our culture. I feel disconnected from those immediately around them. Community is a basic need. I want purposeful, meaningful, funny, sad, and everything in between conversations and interactions in my life. I'm writing this in my favorite coffee shop, staring at the spot where a friend and I take the time to meet face-to-face when we can and have those conversations. My heart is always full for days after those conversations. Facebook don't make my heart full. </div>
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<i>"Grace has no discernment."</i></div>
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Dear Christians, Please Stop Being Crappy. Yup. That's chapter in this book. And its one of my favorites. Christians can be crappy. News flash. And we need to stop. We are extremely hard on ourselves and others. Especially other Christians. We should not be treating each other poorly or extending judgement where it isn't needed. We're all on the same playing field. All of us. All us humans in this big 'ol planet. Love one another. Why is that so hard?! That sounds like another topic to discuss at a later date. Humanity is difficult. We need to love one another. Extend grace. Cloak each other in dignity. Be comforting and welcoming. Be family.</div>
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<i>"Maybe your best thing won't draw a paycheck, but it is how you shine and glow and come to life to bless the world. May I legitimize your gifts? Just because you don't get a pay stub doesn't mean you shrink back or play small or give it all up. Do your thing. Play your note. We are all watching and learning, moved. You are making the world kinder, more beautiful, wiser, funnier, richer, better,..Run your race."</i></div>
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photo cred-@jengarwood</div>
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If you know me, you know that I am mama to two sweet littles from two different countries. You know that I've been a stay-at-home mom since our first child came home. That was not the plan. See #2. His presence brought forth a whole new world to learn, new experiences, and more amazing people than I can count. He gave me new gifts to harness and share. Do I feel like I am blessing the world by being a mother or sharing my story as an aspiring author? Mmmmm, no. But I'm going to continue to do my thing. Cause its my thing. I'm running.</div>
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For the love go get this book! </div>
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I'd love to hear what you have to say after reading it. </div>
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<i><u>Give me a CALL.</u></i> </div>
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Let's meet for coffee or tea or whatever you drink for fun. </div>
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Curious to see what others are saying about For The Love? Go <a href="http://forthelovebook.com/blog-tour/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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Let's be meaningful. </div>
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Let's love well.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Jen offers raw humor, truth, and grace through every word she writes. She holds your hand through the tough and dances next to you in joy. This book should be in the hands of every woman, offering Jen’s realistic and gracious approach to our crazy lives.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Quicksand, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 30.8571434020996px; text-align: center;">
<strong style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">~ Heidi Schmidt, Special Needs Mama, Author, Blogger, </span></strong></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Quicksand, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 30.8571434020996px; text-align: center;">
<strong style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">and Lover of Hot Chocolate with Whip. Milwaukee, WI</span></strong></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-49748176016062990542015-06-17T13:52:00.003-05:002015-06-17T13:52:33.823-05:00SevenLast fall I found myself standing in the restroom of an office building. Hyperventilating and sobbing.<br />
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I had been sitting in on AJ's RPM session. His provider had just moved to a new location and I was stoked to have him on board with regular sessions throughout the school year. Except that didn't happen. He refused to work, became violent, ripped off his cochlear implants, and after 3,000th time-I made a mad dash to the bathroom.</div>
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My mind kept chanting- <i>What the hell is wrong with you?! Get it together!</i></div>
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Except I couldn't. This was the beginning of a downhill spiral I now refer to seven.</div>
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I thought the early years with AJ were the most difficult. If we could get through those, we could get through anything! We're on the up and up! I saw the light at the end of the tunnel a few years ago (finally).</div>
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The truth?</div>
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This seventh year has been the HARDEST in our entire existence as AJ's parents.</div>
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I could see his behavior was not going to improve simply by practice, framing, or storyboarding the activity. None of that was going to work. I resorted to understanding we were going to be done with RPM sessions for a while until we could figure out what was going on.</div>
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September brought new worries and challenges. AJ's school had gone to a new layout, making grades into suites (ie a "suite" consisted of two regular size classes combined). For AJ this meant he was no longer in any spaces he was familiar with other than the gym. He was presented eight new spaces and four new staff members when school began. A few weeks later, another major staff change. Sometimes the broad ideas that administrators have do not translate well to the children whose educations are at stake.<br />
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For over a year AJ had been illustrating extremely difficulty sleeping. Despite my internal battle, trying everything under the sun, and my clear disdain for the idea, we began a mild medication to help AJ sleep.<br />
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I began to hear mild whispers about his behavior at school. This was a main concern for both us and the school team. After discussing with our pediatrician, we had AJ evaluated for the second time for autism. The entire appointment was beyond ridiculous. They had absolutely no idea how to test our child. Let me say, that we are not fans of older practitioners. We left, with the information that our son has "autistic tendencies" but not the actual diagnosis. We were also told that he would never improve, what we were seeing was about it. Don't get your hopes up. Annnnnnd that's when we knew it was over. When we begged for help with behaviors, they referred us to other older practitioners in the area of behavior who had waiting lists out the ying-yang. We were not disappointed in the lack of diagnosis, but rather with the lack of professionalism and knowledge as to how to test our son. <br />
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It was a waste of time.<br />
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At the end of October we passed family court in Bulgaria and legally became Mimi's parents. We flew out at the end of November to pick her up. AJ did marvelously well during our first trip to visit her back in July 2014, so we were psyched knowing he'd do well again.<br />
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For many reasons, those two weeks in Bulgaria were the longest weeks in my life. AJ did not do well. In fact, it was terrible. He was completely non-functional. He did not attend school, he did not wear his cochlear implants, he did not eat, he did not want to do anything but roll in his bed. Nothing in my binder of preparedness for my mother-in-law was going to help this little boy. When we would Skype, I would watch him sinking farther and farther into this weird abyss. He was not my son. I was concerned for his health and concerned for his heart. Being thousands and thousands of miles from him and trying to be a mom to a new child was beyond what I could handle.<br />
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Our first night back home AJ crawled into bed with me, got as close as he could and fell asleep. He didn't move all night.<br />
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In the seven years we have had him home, he has NEVER done that. Ever.<br />
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His behaviors continued to escalate and he began to expression extreme aggression toward his new sister. Now, we were prepared for regression on his part, jealousy, and all that good stuff, but this-<br />
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was not normal.<br />
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We decided to see a psychologist with primary practice in the adoption world. After an hour phone conversation, she understood my son more than anyone else we have ever come in contact with. She agreed to try and help with the behaviors (if you haven't guessed by now AJ is very complex). I learned about AJ having sensory memories of his own past as an orphan and how to replace those with good memories. I learned how his relationship with food is so multi-faceted it makes my head spin. When we saw her, I was in tears THANKFUL he displayed his behaviors in her office. Thankful she could see what I had relayed in previous conversations. <br />
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At this point, AJ had barely worn his cochlear implants in months. He could not deal. He was very aggressive, and moving non-stop. He would walk through the house and swipe things from all surfaces. He could not sit down and be still. Sometimes I felt like he had no idea what he was doing. Not a clue. His sleeping had become far and few between again-even with the medication. He was still lashing out at Mimi and we were needing to monitor their interactions closely. So much for positive bonding. He was depressed. We tried oils, creams, no-screen time, we've always had a strict bedtime routine so we continued that, we did EVERYTHING we could think of to help him. And it wasn't WORKING!<br />
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So many questions asked. What if we put something in his hands, is he more apt to keep them busy and not go for his implants. Does he like hair, is he reaching for a sensory need? What is he trying to tell us. Behavior is a form of communication. Behavior charting and tracking was started in the school environment. AJ was no longer accessing his education because he was not HEARING. You cannot access your education as a cochlear implant user if you are not wearing your implants. He was isolated. In addition to his environmental and staff changes at school, his programming had shifted into a bad, bad gear. His education was taking a complete nose-dive.<br />
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We researched and requested he be sent to a specific school for special needs children. <br />
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I observed AJ in his school environment for one entire day.<br />
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While I can't go into detail, I will say:<br /><br />It was 800 shades of WRONG.<br />
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Things were already in motion due to our request above, but this sealed the deal. AJ hated going to school. This is NOT my child. The day he cried getting out of the car? Broke me. Continuous meetings, correspondence, and more things going around and around in circles started cycling.<br />
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AJ began a cycle of sickness, sick almost every two weeks on the dot. Broken sleep and sickness mean more seizures and dis-regulation. On top of everything else that was happening, it was beyond what we could bear.<br />
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Out of desperation, I called AJ's neurologist and requested another EEG. Perhaps these behaviors were being triggered by seizures? At the follow-up appointment, he told me that AJ's brain showed abnormalities from the beginning. Meaning, from the moment they turned the EEG on his brain was going haywire.<br />
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So here's what I learned:<br /><br />AJ has frontal lobe damage. <br />
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Thus, he has very little to no executive function and no impulse control.<br />
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<b>Well, HELLOOOOOOOOOO. </b><br /><br /><b>That makes TOTAL sense.</b><br />
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We knew he had frontal lobe damage, but breaking it down how it correlates with his actions really was a game-changer. Little to no executive function means he doesn't understand the future consequences of his actions. Impulse control is self-explanatory. Combine these and you get the child who grabs and throws down lamps and has no idea why its wrong or that the consequence is broken glass and possible harm to his body, with the fact that he doesn't realize he's swiping the lamp in the first place because he can't control his impulses. <br />
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It was like a light bulb went off in my brain.<br />
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<i>"For his safety, the safety of little sister here, and the sanity of you and your husband, I recommend a psychiatrist who can prescribe a medication to help with the impulse control."</i><br />
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Stomach that one.<br />
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The psychiatrist was an older practitioner, of course. It is so not comforting when your child stumps a professional. So.not. We agreed on a medication to trial. Turns out, this was a triple threat medication. It would help his impulse control, decrease aggression, and help with sleep. Hallelujah.<br />
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As we trialed this new medicine, we asked for a change in AJ's school staffing. I know what your thinking. It was beyond necessary.<br />
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This medicine? <br />
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Gave me my son back. <br />
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AJ stopped running around like a maniac, his aggression disappeared, and he began to sleep. As in restful, non-broken, sleep. He started wearing his implants LIKE.a.BOSS. He started learning again. His body calmed. He enjoyed and absorbed the much-needed sensory regulation he was being offered. He enjoyed himself at school. He enjoyed himself at home. He started playing with his sister.<br />
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I had a good bawling session last week as we closed out the school year. For AJ, it was sincerely the beginning. <br />
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This year rocked me to my core. Which, for all we've been through as a family, is kinda hard to do. I'm not gonna lie. The challenge of splitting myself between AJ's needs and Mimi's needs has been beyond overwhelming and stretched me to my thinnest. I have prayed many prayers and wondered what God's thinking about all this. I don't know what I'm doing, dude. Seriously.<br />
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AJ struggles this year caused us to pull back from friendships, cancel plans constantly and most of the time last minute, and in general...live minute by minute. I've hated that. You can prepare for <i>anything</i>, but that <i>anything</i> is going to look however its going to look when it gets here and you don't have control over that. We prepared as well as we could to parent two children, our two children, but nothing could have prepared me for the avalanche that has been AJ over the last year.<br />
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I missed my sweet boy. His smile lights my world. To not see that for months completely broke me. To not be able to make him feel better, killed me. Clearly, as relayed above, we know AJ best. When you hold that invisible ability and responsibility and can't figure out what is going on? Well, it breaks your heart and makes you feel helpless.<br />
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Am I holding my breath a little? Yes. We've been in this constant state of whiplash. Am I afraid we'll have to increase meds? Yes. Am I worried when he has a bad night of sleep that we're back to the old patterns? Yep. We're just going to have to take this one minute at a time. I do believe this is the new normal for all things AJ.<br />
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A fellow Bulgaria Momma recently posted this in an adoption group we are part of. I asked her if I could share:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;"><b>We often assume because we are doing what God has called us to do, He will make the road easy. I have learned my greatest lessons in times of difficulty and waiting. </b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;"><b>It is hard, but God has a purpose in it. </b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;"><b>"Hope deferred makes the heart sick; but when dreams come true at last, there is life and joy." Proverbs 13:12</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">Amen.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-86833519757309386712015-06-06T11:56:00.000-05:002015-06-06T11:56:30.983-05:00SometimesI'm not the best at organizing, <i>deleting</i>, or keeping current on photos I've taken. I'm terrible at it, actually. The beauty of having such outstanding technology is being able to take 41 shots of the same thing and pray at least one or two turns out. Except I never delete. I load them on the computer and they sit in a folder or they sit in an album on my phone.<br />
<br />
Until my external hard drive crashes and I loose them. Or my laptop crashes and I loose them. Or I get completely overwhelmed and ignore them. Or my phone yells at me "cannot take photo" because I'm out of space. The latter is the most common.<br />
<br />
For the longest time it was very difficult for me to reminisce and look back on pictures from AJ's younger years. I would look at a picture and feel intense emotions flood to the surface.<br />
<br />
I would remember how he could not sit up when he first arrived home...how he couldn't control his body at all. <br />
<br />
I would remember the what seemed like hundreds of cups we used in efforts to help him learn to drink from a free-flowing cup. <br />
<br />
I would remember his first Christmas, where we both just wanted to hide and cry in bed all day. I can see the pain in our eyes.<br />
<br />
I would remember the scoop spoon he used to first feed himself-that got caught in the garbage disposal and was grated to hell and caused me to have a breakdown in the kitchen...because <b><i>where</i></b> we were ever going to find a spoon like this again?! He needed it!<br />
<br />
I would remember the day of his baptism when Jeremy and I were confident AJ had hearing loss and mourning that before anyone else knew, all while people shouted "AJ!" while taking photos after service.<br />
<br />
I would stare at the picture of him at the ENT's office in the waiting room, remembering how nervous we were and praying they would say "yes" to him receiving cochlear implants. I remember that fierce, and desperate desire to have them give my baby this chance to make his world-his life-better.<br />
<br />
I would remember returning home from a mini-vacation and pulling over on the side of the road the next morning, calling 911 because AJ had his first seizure on the way to school.<br />
<br />
I was unable to see the moment that was actually being reflected in the picture.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago I plugged in the external hard drive I've had sitting out for <strike>forever</strike> quite a while. <br />
<br />
Some major, major healing took place. <br />
<br />
It was the first time I was able to see those moments.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>And see just how far HE and WE have come.</b></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-88992287776855518852015-01-02T10:52:00.000-06:002015-01-02T10:52:25.263-06:00Welcome Home Mimi!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcM4H-pdo5svO1qMjl3_vipczUpA4Uc4pWzDv9utPyrILn8KzjcygbtsDpSpYsN99Cuhh9HFIfIOTRKu_24uiuW2-3RQmGNfEMUP-311FjQcaDj_oeQ_htsL2rEFMwBR9cuLW_SpvKEE/s1600/photo+1+(38).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcM4H-pdo5svO1qMjl3_vipczUpA4Uc4pWzDv9utPyrILn8KzjcygbtsDpSpYsN99Cuhh9HFIfIOTRKu_24uiuW2-3RQmGNfEMUP-311FjQcaDj_oeQ_htsL2rEFMwBR9cuLW_SpvKEE/s1600/photo+1+(38).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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DECEMBER 2014</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-69209567182009266382014-11-01T16:10:00.004-05:002014-11-01T16:10:52.544-05:00Why do you care for orphans?<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">I am so very excited to be partnering with Show Hope as a blogger for the Show Hope Blogging Network. I'll be writing each month to raise awareness and encourage discussion about the global orphan crisis. </i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><br /></i>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Tinos;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Why do <i>you</i> care for orphans? </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Tinos;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Tinos;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">The <i>you</i> in the question is directed toward <i><u>me</u></i>.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Tinos;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Tinos;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Why do<i> I </i>care for orphans?</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Tinos;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">When the topic for the month appears in my inbox I always think I have it in the bag. Truly. On the surface these questions are not hard to answer. Total common sense, I think to myself. Then I open the email and find myself so very wrong. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Tinos;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Tinos;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Unlike many people I know or have been blessed to meet in the world of adoption, my heart for orphans does not stem from an early seed.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"> Growing up, m</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">y defintion of an orphan was nothing. I honestly do not have a memory of understanding what that meant. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">I find that sad.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">My first true understanding of orphan came when we initially began exploring adoption. From the domestic program information meeting to the international information meeting we attended, I fostered an <i>unattached</i> understanding of the orphan. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Tinos; font-size: 15.4545450210571px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><i>The</i> orphan.</span><br />
<br />
Depraved Indifference was my creed.<br />
<br />
<i>Oh, that is SO sad. I just can't.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I made it about me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
As we drove up to my son's orphanage, that indifference shriveled and buried itself along the road. The building stood as a safe fortress, boasting tall concrete walls, and green barbed wire. The gate opened as our car pulled forward and I felt trapped. Trapped in this world I didn't want to be in. I wanted my baby, but let's go. In and out.<br />
<br />
I didn't want to see the rest of it.<br />
<br />
The building inside was clean and pristine, full of noise and children. I was impressed as I walked the stairs to meet my son. The horror stories I had heard about "international orphanages" were certainly not what I was seeing. I stepped on the landing and lost my breath. Babies. Everywhere. Laying and playing in a fenced off play area. To my right, two babies in swings. To my left, three nannies holding babies. <br />
<br />
<i>What on earth?</i><br />
<br />
Something completely visceral rose up inside of me.<br />
<br />
<i>This is NOT right.</i><br />
<br />
On the first day in-country during our pickup trip we chose to visit Antigua. Have you been in a place where the saying "go two blocks and you aren't safe"? We drove two minutes from our hotel and were no longer safe. It was raw and shocking. As we kept driving I saw shacks in hills and mountains. Children's eyes peering out at me from behind small peep-holes cut out. Poverty beyond anything I had ever imagined. Young women passed me on the cobblestone streets of Antigua with babies on their backs.<br />
<br />
Driving into our daughter's city all of those same descriptions flooded my vision. <br />
<br />
<i>This is not right.</i><br />
<br />
My care came from being in the thick of it. I didn't get it until I saw it. Experienced it. Felt it.<br />
<br />
I'm not proud of that fact. I wish I had learned more about orphan care, the orphan crisis, and how we can help. <br />
<br />
Because we can.<br />
<br />
We have a society who is very "I will" and "I can" and in the same breathe "that is their problem" and "oh, that is a shame but I'm staying put in my pretty little world". When it comes to the we, WE lose ground.<br />
<br />
A few days ago I was introduced to a video:<br /><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eric Ludy's Depraved Indifference </div>
<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/UWHJ6-YhSYQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br /><br />"I suffer from depraved indifference....oh we care. Its not that that doesn't move us at some level to hear about this little child, over in Liberia. We care. But we can go home tonight and sleep just fine. How is that? Its because there is an indifference to that life. And its naturally born within us that that life isn't affecting us. Its not in our backyard. Were not related to it. Its someone else's issue..."<br />
<b>-Eric Ludy</b><br />
<br />
I refuse to say to myself, "that's not my life so I shouldn't or can't do anything about it."<br />
<br />
I have been moved.<br />
<br />
Moved to refuse the notion that the orphan crisis is impossible.<br />
<br />
Moved to understand that these children are living, breathing, human beings, not something to brush aside because its too hard for <i>me</i>. It is not about me. <br />
<br />
I refuse to believe that it impossible for "those orphans" to affect me.<br />
<br />
Because they <i>are</i> in my backyard.<br />
<br />
It was my AJ. It was my Mimi. My children <i>were</i> orphans. <br />
<br />
That is why I care for orphans. <br />
<br />
You?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-83697444266760654622014-08-31T21:53:00.001-05:002014-08-31T22:52:43.449-05:00Why do orphans need families?<i>I am so very excited to be partnering with Show Hope as a blogger for the Show Hope Blogging Network. I'll be writing each month to raise awareness and encourage discussion about the global orphan crisis. </i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Why do orphans need families?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The answer to this question is simple.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You know the answer. Well all do.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Everyone needs a family.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But if we explore this question beyond the surface, the reasons orphans need families is so much deeper than a one sentence statement.<br />
<br />
Seven years ago I found my "face". <br />
<br />
What is "a face" you ask?<br />
<br />
It is that which makes the orphan and the orphan crisis REAL for an individual.<br />
<br />
Her name was Gabriela. <br />
<br />
My mother and I had arrived in Guatemala to visit our son AJ. This was my second trip as Jeremy and I had met him a few months before. My baby boy's first birthday was approaching and if he wasn't going to be home, I desperately wanted to be in Guatemala. <br />
<br />
We had arrived the day before with duffel bags of teddy bears and supplies for the orphanage. Our translator picked us up and drove the 0.5 mile to the orphanage. When the green, steel gate closed behind our SUV, I heard the children. We walked into the back door and were greeted by a sea of smiling faces and a chorus of ¡hola! My broken Spanish allowed me to quickly conversate with the children and move quickly behind our interpreter.<br />
<br />
Our agency had asked us to take photos of a few children while we were there. This had become a an expected request and a desperate connection for waiting families. We had been on the receiving end of these photos many times and were happy to return the favor. I had my mental list of children and got my camera ready.<br />
<br />
Gabriela. She was seven years old.<br />
<br />
She was the waiting child of a family whom we had grown very close to here in the US. I knew her story and was so very anxious to meet this precious girl.<br />
<br />
The large Spanish style wooden door creaked open to the courtyard where the older children were playing. Our translator murmured words and Gabriela crept up between the sea of faces.<br />
<br />
Her face was smooth and shy. Her demeanor was sweet yet a bit timid. She looked at us with such hope, worry, and despair. <br />
<br />
When I asked if I could take a picture of her, everything about her changed. <br />
<br />
I saw the world in her eyes. <br />
<br />
Her deep, brown pools of reality were staring at me and I could not run and hide.<br />
<br />
I could not shut off the tv, rip up the donation solicitation mailing, or just shake my head in general discomfort and change the subject.<br />
<br />
She was right.in.front.of.me.<br />
<br />
Her eyes reflect everything that was right in this world...and everything wrong in this world.<br />
<br />
She slowly revealed a smile that is forever etched in my brain.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She never uttered a word, yet she told me EVERYTHING.<br />
<br />
<i>Are you going to be my family? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>No? Ok. But this is going to my family so...<br /><br />Please love me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I'm happy. Well kind of happy, but know I could be happier with those who love me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I'm here but not because I want to be.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Pick me. Pick me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I will smile for my Mommy and Daddy.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I won't cry, I promise I won't cry. I will be good.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I'm just a child. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I deserve love.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I deserve a family.</i><br />
<br />
Yes you do sweet girl. Yes.you.do.<br />
<br />
Every single child in this world needs a family. But for some reason, which I have yet to pinpoint one rational reason, the orphan crisis and need for families is out of reach. Foreign.<br />
<br />
Its not personal.<br />
<br />
My own initial experience with our son did not change me like my experience with Gabriela did. I had been so wrapped up in him, just our son, I had merely scratched the surface into the world of orphans. I had yet to plunge into the water, I had simply dipped my foot in the shallow end to test the temperature. His story was personal to me, but the others? They were not. Gabriela opened my eyes and gave me a much wider lens of orphans and the orphan crisis. I saw more than just my son in that orphanage after that visit. A few months ago we visited our daughter in Bulgaria in her orphanage. I saw more than just her when the door opened and those children flooded the room.<br />
<br />
I didn't GET IT until I saw it and couldn't look away.<br />
<br />
As a culture we tend to avoid that which is hard. We live in such a time of convenience, immediacy, and insatiability. Facing the question of why orphans need families is hard. <i><b>They</b></i> need families because all children should have families. This is where we end the story and find something else to talk about. When we categorize these children as<b><i> they,</i></b> it becomes impersonal and far from reach. Intangible.<br />
<br />
But indeed, these children are tangible. <br />
<br />
We weren't made for lazy-boys, my dear friends. We were made for purpose.<br />
<br />
Orphans need LOVE.<br />
<br />
Orphans need HOPE.<br />
<br />
Orphans need SUPPORT.<br />
<br />
Orphans need HOMES.<br />
<br />
Orphans need FAMILIES.<br />
<br />
Families who will hold them in the middle of the night when the trauma(s) of their past comes raging like a bull and they don't know how to process it. Families who will be patient and encouraging along the attachment and bonding process. Families that will love, feed, clothe, bathe, shelter, teach, and provide stability. Families who will laugh at the silly and cry in the sorrow. A family is a basic human right.<br />
<br />
I think about Gabriela a lot. Her story does not have a happy ending. Perhaps this is why she sticks with me. Her reality is the reality I needed to ignite the fire in my heart for orphans. The rest of her story is protected for safety and privacy, but I desperately needed to share my "face" with all of you.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Why do you think orphans need families? Do you have a "face" to share?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #444444;">Psalm 68:6</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #444444;">God sets the lonely in families</span></b></i></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4021097360317761952.post-3124585517883743842014-07-22T18:25:00.000-05:002014-07-22T21:10:23.533-05:00In The QuietThis is when I stop moving long enough to hear my own heart beat.<br />
<br />
To hear his heart beat.<br />
<br />
This is when the world crashes and my shoulders fold.<br />
<br />
This is when I let go, let it out, and release.<br />
<br />
When the silent tears fall on the pillow and my breaths are quick slow, quick slow.<br />
<br />
This is when I see his pure desire for love.<br />
<br />
Without the daily smokescreen we call life.<br />
<br />
This is when I see his raw, stripped need for his Mother.<br />
<br />
This is when the tears flow harder, and become larger.<br />
<br />
When he struggles to calm his body and accept human touch.<br />
<br />
When the battle is over and he is relaxed.<br />
<br />
This is when I stop moving to soak it in.<br />
<br />
This is when the hardships of the day, the week, the months all melt away.<br />
<br />
This is when my heart fills with so much love I can't breathe.<br />
<br />
This is when I grow in faith and motherhood.<br />
<br />
This is to be treasured.<br />
<br />
Bottled up. Sealed. Stored for rainy days.<br />
<br />
Rainy days that should be every single day.<br />
<br />
This is when he folds his hand in mine.<br />
<br />
This is when he sighs in comfort and safety.<br />
<br />
This is when I see my privilege.<br />
<br />
This is when I exhale.<br />
<br />
In the quiet.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0