Those first few months...

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.

According to my notes...

 Mimi 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!" 

AJ went to school the two days following Mimi's arrival, which left the kids seeing each other very briefly both days. That was a smart move. 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. 

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.  

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. Her eating overall has tapered off and she's not so hyper about water, food dropping, or moving food away. Thank you Jesus.

I was going to write so much more, but my brain is fog and mush and all things I can't remember.
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.

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.

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.  

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.

We didn't go into details about how AJ really did while we were gone.  The answer?  HORR.I.BLE.
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. 

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.

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 here,  

Whiplash from sweet to sour was happening daily. 

All of this hardship was paired with some intensely sweet moments. 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.

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....

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.

Coming Home...Day 1 {A Reflection}

{Day 1}

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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 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 would return to the playroom feeling all important.

Oh here she comes, walking down the hallway....in all her Miminess!

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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?

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.

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...

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. 

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.

If not, there are plenty of vodka mini bottles in our mini-bar.

Seven

Last fall I found myself standing in the restroom of an office building.  Hyperventilating and sobbing.

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.

My mind kept chanting- What the hell is wrong with you?! Get it together!

Except I couldn't.  This was the beginning of a downhill spiral I now refer to seven.

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).

The truth?

This seventh year has been the HARDEST in our entire existence as AJ's parents.

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.

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.

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.

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.

It was a waste of time.

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.

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.

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.

In the seven years we have had him home, he has NEVER done that.  Ever.

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-

was not normal.

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.

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!

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.

We researched and requested he be sent to a specific school for special needs children.

I observed AJ in his school environment for one entire day.

While I can't go into detail, I will say:

It was 800 shades of WRONG.

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.

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.

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.

So here's what I learned:

AJ has frontal lobe damage.

Thus, he has very little to no executive function and no impulse control.

Well, HELLOOOOOOOOOO. 

That makes TOTAL sense.

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.

It was like a light bulb went off in my brain.

"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."

Stomach that one.

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.

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.

This medicine?

Gave me my son back.

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.

I had a good bawling session last week as we closed out the school year.  For AJ, it was sincerely the beginning.

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.

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 anything, but that anything 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.

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.

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.

A fellow Bulgaria Momma recently posted this in an adoption group we are part of. I asked her if I could share:

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. 

It is hard, but God has a purpose in it. 

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick; but when dreams come true at last, there is life and joy." Proverbs 13:12

Amen.

"Don't waste the wait"

Earlier this week I gave in and emailed our agency asking them to contact Bulgaria for an update on our case.  I don't do this very often.  Why?  Why do I choose not to drive our agency insane? Because I know it only makes this more maddening when you ask and receive confirmation that there is no news.

Indeed, there is no news in regards to our case.  We continue to wait for our official referral and travel approval to visit our baby girl.

When I read those words, no news, I instantly felt peace.  

I was not expecting to feel peace. I was expecting to feel angry, frustrated, and irritated.  The emotions of adoption are like a merry-go-round.  They change as you go around and around.  

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus  -Philippians 4:7

Peace. Calm. Relief.  I felt all of these as I read the email from our agency.  

And I felt guilty.

Guilty that no news was a relief.  How is that possible?  How was this static information bringing me peace?

I think it is because I need a few moments off the ledge.  WE need to be off the ledge for a bit.  I need to experience a few days where I am not jumping sky high every time the phone rings.  We need to be fully (or at least mostly, lets be honest) engaged in conversations, events, and well- life. I need to put my phone down and stop refreshing my email 5,394 times a day hoping for an update.  Especially when our agency will call not email.  

This wait.  Is hard.  We are at the mercy of someone else.  Surrendered. Paralyzed?  Yes. And sometimes, I don't like it.

As we've endured this wait, I have been privileged to take part in an adoption group for Bulgaria. There has been a lot of movement with cases.  A lot.  While this is promising, it can be heartbreaking when it is not your case.  You feel a split emotion of "YAY and BOO" at the same exact time.  Yesterday, someone took the time to recognize those of us that have not experienced movement.  In short:

For those of you waiting, please don't be discouraged. Hang in there...and don't waste the wait.

Don't waste the wait.  

Oh.  OHHHHHHH.  

There is purpose in our waiting.  We knew this before, but this statement- THIS statement was like the Gibb's head-smacking thing on NCIS. 

Duh.

The wait has allowed us to reflect and cherish our adoption process with AJ.  It has reminded us that much more of what a miracle he is.

The wait has allowed me to tear up when I look at pictures of our process thus far.  It has allowed me to tear up when I hear the phrase "sin on a plate" and see chocolate cupcakes.  It reminds me of the friends who baked up a storm for our bake sale.

The wait makes me tear up remembering the enormous amount of donations we received for our first (yes, I said first-that's some foreshadowing for you) rummage and our auction fundraiser . The generosity and split-second "we want to help" makes me choke up.  Every.single.time.

The wait reminds us to trust God and remember that we are not going at this alone.  His plan is far bigger than ours and we don't need to understand all of it.  Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. And yes, I realize this is a cliche.  And sometimes NO, I don't want to hear it. But we know in our hearts, this is exactly where we are supposed to be.

The wait is giving us time to navigate the additional paperwork, fees, and other costs that have entered our adoption process.

The wait allowed Jeremy to have a much needed shoulder surgery.

The wait is making me squeeze AJ harder and give him Mama smooches more often.

The wait is allowing us to prepare for AJ's upcoming surgery and attack some relatively new needs and issues in relation to his disabilities.

The wait has allowed us to witness family and friends celebrating our baby girl's birthday without ever laying eyes on her.  That's love people.

The wait has made me appreciate the friends who have written, printed, and signed 3,239 reference letters for us as we plug away applying for grants.  Your time and efforts are precious and yes, it makes me cry.  Every.single.time.

The wait has brought texts and Facebook messages from friends who remember "Wednesdays" were days to hold our breath hoping for news on our case.

The wait has brought emails and phone calls saying, "I was just thinking about Mimi".

The wait has enabled this little girl to have a massive wardrobe thanks to the generosity of people wanting to help.

The wait has allowed us to build stronger friendships.

The wait has given us time to learn so much about AJ and given him time to communicate to us that he knows what is going on.  He knows he has a sister.  He knows.

The wait allowed me to finish my Bachelor's degree.

The wait allowed Jeremy to take a much needed break from his NP program and secure clinicals for the next semester.  A.blessing.

The wait has allowed us to help a friend in need.

What am I saying?  The wait hasn't been all that bad friends.  I don't want to waste the wait.  I don't want to sit on a ball on the couch bawling my eyes out every day because my baby girl isn't home.  Some days I'd like to.  But I don't want the wait to paralyze us either.  We are trusting that she is happy, loved, and being well cared for.

This wait is making the moment we get to hold her in our arms even sweeter.  

None of this is any comparison to our forever with her.

Q&A ~ April 2014

In an effort to answer everyone's questions we thought we'd do a little Q&A:

Q: Are you still adopting Mimi?
A: YES!

Q: Tell me again...where is she?
A: Bulgaria.

Q: How long have you been in the process now?
A: We decided to adopt in March 2013, so we are in over a year.  If we are talking about Mimi specifically, we are 10 months into her process (received her information in June 2013)

Q: Do you get pictures of her?  Or updates on how she is doing?
A: No we do not.

Q: Why don't you get pictures or updates on her?! That's awful!
A: Bulgaria is a Hague country.  This means they signed onto the United States Hague Convention which has strict rules set in place to protect the children, birth parents, and adoptive parents. The Hague requires intercountry adoptions to be completed under internationally agreed upon rules and procedures to make sure children are provided with permanent, loving homes and that adoptions take place in the best interest of the child.  The Hague also exists to prevent child abduction, sales, and trafficking.  You can read more on the Hague HERE.

The Hague does not allow us to have contact with anyone associated with her care.  This includes her orphanage and our in-country organization handling our case in Bulgaria. We know nothing with exception to her original referral information and aren't allowed to know more until a certain point in our process.

Q: Isn't that hard?
A: Incredibly.

Q: But she's your child, right?
A: Technically, no.  She's not ours yet.  We are committed to her in writing and she is "on hold" for us.  See more in the Q&A's below.

Q: Did you pictures of AJ?
A: Yes we did.  We received pictures and basic medical updates pretty much monthly.  The pictures were a Catch 22.  Hard to see him grow up without us, but also pieces of hope that helped us through the process.  They would always show up in my inbox at the exact moment we needed them to. Guatemala was not a Hague country.  Adoption in Guatemala ended in 2007, just months after we brought AJ home.

Q: Does AJ know who Mimi is?
A: Yes he does!  He recognizes her "voice" in videos and can accurately choose her from a group of people.  He gives her kisses on his iPad and is in her room a lot.  We are working on an experience book for him about our first trip so that he can learn where we are going and why.

Q: What's the latest with Mimi?
A: This is a loaded question.  Short answer: We are still waiting on the Bulgarian Ministry of Justice (MOJ) to issue her official referral which gives travel approval for our visit.  I know, I sound like a broken record.  But honestly, we should be hearing any day now and surprise-it can be any day-not just Wednesdays! This official referral lists her name and our names on the same piece of paper.  And its official.  Its pretty exciting.  We've already received the verbal referral where they've approved us, now they just need to type it!

Q: What is taking so long?
A: Meh.  Another loaded question.  This is the way it works, folks. We are at a point where we are under the mercy of others.  It is quite literally out of our hands.

Q: So when do you visit her?
A: We are hoping for June.

Q: How long will you be gone visiting?
A: We are required (yes I said required) to spend five working days with her.

Q: Will she know you are coming to see her?  Does she know she has a family?
A: We know that they do tell the children when we are coming to visit and the travel has been finalized.  They often teach the kids to say Mama, Tata (Daddy), and I Love You.
Sigh.

Q: What happens during the visit?
A: We will spend a few hours with her at the orphanage each day.  How long we don't know.  That is determined by the orphanage director's kindness and willingness as well as her schedule/routine. We will have a translator with us the entire time and be able to ask as many questions as we like about her.  We will have access to several professionals that know her well and we'll all be talking a lot about Mimi.

Q: What happens at the end of the visit?
A: We travel back to the capital city of Bulgaria and sign some official documents that yes, we still do want her.

Q: What happens after you come back from your visit trip?  
A: LOTS.  Here is what will happen:

1) We come home and fill out an I-800 form for USCIS (US Immigration).  This form identifies HER specifically.  If I-800 sounds familiar, that's because we filled out the I-800A earlier in the process, applying to adopt "an orphan" from Bulgaria.

2) I-800 is approved

3) USCIS sends notification of our approval to the US Embassy in Bulgaria.

4) US Embassy in Bulgaria notifies the Ministry of Justice (MOJ) in Bulgaria that the US has approved us. This is called the Article 5 Letter.

5) MOJ signs off on the Article 5 Letter. *This has been taking a while---sad face*

6) Our case is issued a date in Family Court.

7) Court says YES! She's ours!

8) We post 3,548 pictures of her on Facebook and the blog.

9) Pick Up Trip

Q: So, what's the timeline on all that whoo-ha?
A: Um, your guess is as good as ours.  Let's just say it won't be simply a month between trips.
Sad.sad.sad.face.  Bulgaria shuts down for the first two weeks of May and the entire month of August so we will hit both of those delays.

Q: Wha??? When is she coming home?
A: At this point, we are hoping for Fall 2014 but it could be between Fall and Christmas. 

Q: Why so long?  Isn't this longer than you expected?
A: I wish we had a straight answer for this question.  We are at the mercy of how fast each of the above steps are completed.  Longer than we expected?  Way longer.

Q: What can we do for you?
A: Pray.  Pray for Mimi.  Pray for us.  Please do not forget about our baby girl.

I Will Not Take These Things For Granted...

Drip.  Drop.

Drip. Drop.

Swish.

The rain was falling gently as the windshield wipers washed the slate clean.

I cried.

He was gone, so I could.

We had just sat in a sterile exam room.  We left with several starter kits and books on the potential drugs my husband *might* be injecting into his body because he *probably* had Multiple Sclerosis.

Drip. Drop.

"The oral medications were just approved by the FDA.  I do not recommend them.   There are so many side effects.  Take it and you slow/block MS flair-ups buuuuutttt you get cancer instead".  

Injections it is.  

That.  That was almost FOUR years ago.

Injections we did.  Who am I kidding?  Injections he did.  Three different medications.  The first made him so incredibly sleepy he was put on Ritalin.  The second burned his skin.  The third, which was most effective, his body built up an antibody to.  Very rare they say. We laughed.

You see, I am married to a fighter.  And a fighter married to a fighter? Well, you would think that would cause fights between us.  The opposite is true.  We fight against the enemy.  Together.  I have watched my husband stand up when he could have sat down.  So I do not sit down.  I'm not good at it anyhow.

When we began the adoption process, we knew Jeremy's diagnosis might be an issue.  Might?  We knew it would be a red flag at some point.  Indeed it was, from the moment we said yes.  We spent months, in quiet, exploring options, countries, routes, the whole kit and caboodle.  We worked with a placement agency who was gentle and kind, holding our hands as they asked for specific detailed information about Jeremy's conditions.  We get it.  Multiple Sclerosis and Diabetes look scary on paper.  Paper doesn't represent a person.  Have you heard me preach on insurance companies and their denials of claims?  My child is not a case number or a file on your desk!  We knew we'd have to prove his health, stability, and ability to be a parent.

Our choices became very narrow.  Simply based on his diagnoses.  That, my friends, is a very big black dark hole just waiting for someone to come wallow.  We didn't.  

China?
NO.

Philippines?
NO.

Vietnam?
NO.

Every other country but TWO.

Said NO.

But TWO said YES.

Yes.

Bulgaria and Ethiopia.  

Praise the heavens we chose Bulgaria.

We were cleared to begin the actually application process (yes all this occurred before the formal application) and then Mimi happened.  And we switched placement agencies.  And the questions came at us again.  

We held our breath.

They said YES.

Fast forward to three weeks ago.  Our agency called and I already knew it was not good news.  Our case had been bumped from the Ministry of Justice in Bulgaria. They wanted additional information regarding Jeremy's treatment and health.

This came as no surprise as our dossier did not reflect detailed information of his diagnoses.  I was more rattled by the other items they requested.

And then I thought about the caseworker who opened our file. 

What did she think?  What did that paper say to her?  Did she imagine my husband as an invalid?  

What did she think as she flipped to the back and saw our pictures?  

Oh to be a fly.

Adoption does this crazy thing where it challenges you constantly.  Are you sure you want to do this?  Are you sure you can parent?  Are you sure you are good enough to parent?  Fill out another form.  PROVE IT.  So how do you prove something that on paper looks like doomsday?

You prove it.  With details.  With providing the information they want. We were as specific as possible in reporting Jeremy's treatment.  He is healthy and THRIVING.  He is now on those crazy oral medications, as four years has brought improvements and none of those craaaazy side effects.  It is amazing to me to watch him simply take a pill that does the work of all those shots he went through.  It is a blessing.  He is followed regularly by his specialist, who attributes Jeremy's positive attitude to his continuous health.  He has MRIs that we pray will not show any changes when the scans come back.  If they do, and they have before, we move forward.  Life is unpredictable.

While the issue isn't present with a fanfare and a spotlight, it lies in the corner.  Its a thorn.  That could potentially prick you if you grab the rose stem at just the right spot.  

We do not take the opportunity we have in adopting Mimi for granted.  The song from Toad the Wet Sprocket has been on repeat in my mind for weeks.

Every single delay, form, correspondence, setback, frustration, mood-swing, celebration, and milestone reminds me we are IN THIS PROCESS.  Every moment is a moment we are IN IT.

It is not a dream.  It is not a wish.  It is real.  We do not take that for granted.

Is it hard?  Absolutely!  Is it cumbersome and maddening?  Sometimes! 

 Is it worth it? 

YES.

We fight.  For her.  Because we are blessed to be able to do so.  

Breakfast at Tiffany's

UPDATE: Shortly after I posted this, we received confirmation that Mimi will not be moved from her current orphanage as she is already "in-process".  Say it with me-THANK GOD!!!!

Raising AJ has taught me a lot of things.  I mean a lot.  The largest curve ball by far has been the transformation of a self-proclaimed introvert becoming a wildly knowledgeable advocate and actually being that advocate.  I was the little girl who was terrified to go and pay the bill at the restaurant after dinner.  Terrified.  It was those little experiences that built and egged on my social skills.  Practice, practice, practice.  When AJ arrived, I was thrust into this world of juggling therapies, therapists, insurance companies, products-you name it.  If he needed it I was on the phone or in person duking it out.  I've gone from that scared little girl to taking control and and advocating for my son; controlling what I can in the best way I know how. Quite a 180.

So when I spoke with our caseworker yesterday and she solidified, yet again, our lack of control within this adoption, I cried.  And found myself realizing it was time to write this post.

If you've been following our adoption process, you've come to know that our timeline and theories as to when things would/should be happening has changed quite a bit.  As we neared toward November and December, I started to think about whether or not she'd be home for her 3rd birthday in the spring.  And then I remembered what her paperwork said.  And panicked.  

Mimi is in an orphanage that is considered a baby orphanage...from infant to age 3.

THREE.

Do you see where this is going?

If we don't have her home by her birthday, she could be moved to another orphanage.  

The conversation with our caseworker yesterday left me with a pit in my stomach.  A confirmation of helplessness and grief for my baby girl.

"It is out of (the attorneys office), our, and your control as to whether or not she is moved".

Why is this a big deal, you ask?

I will try not to go all adoption 101 on you, but please understand that she has already experienced trauma.  And this, this move, will be more trauma for her.  And us picking her up, more trauma.  But in regards to her special needs, this potential move could be well, two-fold tramatic for her.  Where she is right now is familiar.  And while it is our personal opinion, from the referral information we received that she is loved, well cared for, and in a facility that is maintained well and has adequate resources for the children, it still isn't a home or a family.  So while it breaks my heart that she is there, it is also comforting to me that she is there...and remains there. 

She has been at this place for a long time.  She knows the space, what it smells like, what it sounds like.  She has her place at the table and her bed. She knows the people who care for her and the children she calls her friends and family.  This is her temporary home.  And while she's not putting up pictures or painting, she certainly isn't still living out of boxes and eating Ramen.  Do you see what I mean?

We have no control over this.  My gut says they will keep her there, because she already has a family in process.  But there is no guarantee. Which I suppose shouldn't surprise me because you really aren't in control when you adopt.  Period.  We won't have an answer until we travel.  My prayer is that our case is logged-in soon and we can visit and pick-up before her birthday.  That, my friends, is honestly a long shot.  My second prayer is to be logged-in soon, visit, and make a personal plea to keep her where she is until we pick her up.  Usually (said lightly and sarcastically) there is about a month between the visit and pick up trips.  I sure hope so. 

Earlier this week I went a little crazy was on Pinterest and decided to create a board for her 3rd Birthday.  After searching "girls birthday party" I came upon a Breakfast at Tiffany's party.  Oh my. And thus, the entire board is filled with this theme.  Trust me when I say this fits her to a "T". It was a moment of pure bliss planning for her. Black, white, Tiffany blue.  Oh my. The tiaras, little black dresses, the pearls.  All things girly and sweet. How I long to celebrate her and wish her all the good things in life.  You see it is not about the dress, or the pearls, or the gifts. It is about celebrating our precious daughter who deserves to be celebrated.  

Will you join us in praying for this birthday situation?  Please pray for her little being and for us to find comfort in peace with whatever may happen in light of her birthday and her adoption process.

Oh, and I bought this. Just because.

image

Big Brother

Sometimes, the complexity that is AJ leaves me breathless.  Sometimes in a not so good way.  But other times, in a state of disbelief.  Because we've had him in our lives since he was three months old {via adoption referral and photos}, we've had the distinct pleasure to watch him grow, change, and break through some pretty thick brick walls.

The last few months have been incredibly challenging for AJ is a physical sense.  His body has been none too kind and has been growing constantly.  His gains have been quiet and consistent, which is a change as he's usually an all or nothing, get the most "bang for my buck" kind of kiddo.

This was the second year he smiled for his class picture.

This was the first year he did not have a Christmas program at school.  This mama was unaware that they stop at 1st grade.  Sniff.

{Cochlear Implants}
Just before school began we had our yearly CI mapping.  When we arrived at the appointment, AJ walked in the sound booth, his audi announced we were going to do VRA (visual reinforcement audiometry) and test him with each CI individually and then together.  I shrugged and said lets give it a shot.  Note: we have not done this type of testing in a long, long time.  This kid waltzed in there, sat down on the floor (under the mark on the ceiling of course), LISTENED, and turned when he heard the sounds/his audi's voice through the speakers.  The visual part?  There are light boxes attached to the speakers with moving/light up cartoon characters as a reinforcement for turning).

We were all thrilled beyond belief.  Gone are the days of his sitting in the special chair with the tray with 10,000 soundless toys to keep his attention.  Gone are the days of me bouncing on a yoga ball while his audi distracted him with those same toys.  He just waltzed in there and did it.

And to top it off, he tested at 25dB across the board.  ACROSS.THE.BOARD.  We haven't been able to get real #'s on this kid for a long time.  It was awesome.  His audi adjusted his sensitivity on both implants as well.  This is what we call his "bubble".  This will enable to him to once again eat in the so freakin' loud lunchroom with his friends.  He will still hear what is going on in the room, it just won't be so overpowering and the focus will be more on what is directly around him.

Since that appointment, AJ has been wearing both his implants with more consistency instead of just the right.  The right is still most definitely his dominant ear, but it is music to my eyes-er, a wonderful sight to see when he purposely puts his left coil back on!! In fact, I may do a happy dance when this happens.  I try not to attract to much attention to my celebrations because I don't want him to stop doing it!  This activity is consistent between home and school.

His school staff has used his sensitivity setting for school assemblies and has seen great results.  We have used the setting for church and have had great success as well.  He's identifying sounds correctly with just his left implant.  Oh how far he's come!!!

{Cerebral Palsy}
'Tis my least favorite of all things AJ right now.  This is the physical piece I was talking about.  He had his last Botox injections in October.  The normal four injection spots in his left leg: adductor, gastrocnemius, tibialis anterior, and his hamstring.  We have gone through three different strains/types of Botox.  So let's call them B1-3.  B1 did wonders for a long time.  Then it stopped. Earlier this year we tried B2 which does not have protein in it.  The thought was it would last longer since he burns them off faster than they are supposed to last {of course}.  It didn't make a difference.  So we are now on B3, and he's had two doses of this thus far.  The wonderful side effect {no really, it is awesome} is that it dries his mouth out a bit so the drooling ceases a bit.

However, this last round burned off in around a month and didn't do much at all.  Other than stopping the drooling.  That it did.  And that little side effect showed me just when it was starting to wear off.  SIGH.  We're at a crossroads again.  And you know we will do everything in our power to avoid surgery.  I have an appointment scheduled with his Physical Medicine doctor (CP doc) to discuss our options.  His muscles are pulling so tight they pull his foot up, so he looks like he's a toe walker- and a mean one at that.  It is extremely painful and now, his leg is not only up but turning in again. His right foot/leg has begun to also be rigid, as it is overcompensating and trying to match the left leg, so he's toe walking on both feet.

My gut says we should trying one more round of botox, with two injection sites instead of the four. We already decided against phenol injections, as 1) THANK GOD he is not scheduled for a surgery or procedure in the near future 2) his CP doc wasn't wild about it when it was mentioned.  She's all kinds of amazing, so I trust her opinion and I wasn't too thrilled with the idea to begin with.  Phenol injections are typically done while a patient is already under (hence the other procedure scheduling). With AJ's history, it is way, way, way too dangerous to put him under anesthesia for 15 minutes to give him injections.  We're upping the usage of his night brace and his TENS unit to see if that will help give him relief.  Also on the docket are having our whirlpool tub finally fixed and of course, his continued deep tissue massages.

Night Brace

TENS Unit

We are in for -50 degree weather tomorrow.  Ohhhh my mama heart is so thankful I don't have to take him out in that.  He would, no doubt, have tremendous difficulty walking.  Cold makes his spasticity whip around and say, "Hello old friend! Miss me?!"  This week alone he rolled on his ankle twice walking out of school.  Winter is not his friend. We just keep plugging away.  Right? Right.

{Epilepsy}
Things have been pretty quiet in this deparment lately.  Which is a very welcomed blessing!  He had quiet an active few weeks during the beginning of the school year, which allowed his entire school staff to witness his seizure patterns.  While I am not thankful for the seizures, I am thankful that the staff was able to witness them and now knows what to look for.

Recently, I've wondered if AJ's seizure patterns are triggered by his Botox injections.  Of course, I am not absolutely certain, but this is one small reason as to why I am open to trying one more round of Botox, to see if there is a correlation.  Now don't get me wrong, I don't want my child to have seizures.  But, it may be a process of elimination.  There are some other things we can do for his spasticity (in addition to what we already do) including chiropractic care and/or accupuncture (meh).  This will be a definite discussion with his CP doc.

Back to the epilepsy, he seems to be holding steady. 

{Keratosis Pilaris}
For some, this is a tiny diagnosis and for some it is major.  I would say AJ's in the moderate to major range.  Since switching to "Free" products, including ALL Free & Clear laundry detergent, Aveeno Sensitive Body Wash, Sunscreen, and the Aveeno Baby Lavender Calming Lotion, he's been doing phenomenal.  I bought a different type of "Free" laundry detergent a while back and saw a change in his skin.  I guess they aren't all created equal.  AJ's face frequently breaks out in a rash when he's had something acidic to eat, and the acidity can range from low to high and he'll still break out, but we're able to clear that up with some good 'ol hydrocortisone.  It is such a relief not to see all those tiny little bumps on his skin.

*I am in no way being compensated to like these products.  We just truly LOVE them and they work for AJ.

{Communication}
iPad: We recently changed the communication program we've been using on AJ's ipad.  Since he began using an ipad two years ago (holy smokes!), we've used iCommunicate.  This app was friendly for his staff to use and navigate, but wasn't so AJ friendly in terms of independent use.  So, after much discussion with his SLP we chose to go with GoTalk.  This app is amazeballs.  Ha!  First time I've used that um, word???  I've been programming his lunch choices in so he can tell the staff what he wants for hot lunch every day.  The schedules are much more user friendly and he's getting the hang of it.  He's able to independently navigate his iPad now, turning it on, swiping to unlock the screen, choosing the correct icon menu (usually his Sensory apps) and choosing the app he wants.  If he wants out, he presses the home button and goes to another app.  He's even learned how to get to the start of one of his apps after he's accidentally gone to the instructions page.  Smart cookie.

RPM: Speaking of a smart cookie....  Over the summer, I posted a frustrating post on Facebook. AJ and I had a very rough day due to his inability to communicate.  This still happens, yes it does.  I had met our local RPM specialist at a non-profit event I was working last year.  I had heard of RPM, but didn't think it was a good fit for AJ for several reasons.  She messaged me and the thought of AJ being a candidate for RPM began to swirl in my head.

RPM stands for Rapid Prompt Method.  It was created by the mother of an autistic child.  Now bear with me, as I am explain this at the most basic, fundamental level. It is AMAZING.  To be honest, AJ's RPM journey deserves its own post.  However, I wanted to include the basics in this post.  RPM users go from using the working tool (pencil) to point to their answers.  Their choices are written out on several pieces of paper, with the paper ripping into small pieces as the auditory cue that it time to answer the question.  From here, users use the working tool to trace letters on a stencil board.  From the stencil board it goes to pointing to letters on paper, and then eventually writing or typing.

AJ had his first consult a few months ago and STUNNED us ALL.  This is working for him.  When his RPM provider said, "I'm not sure if he knows how to spell yet, but...".  That word...

YET.  RPM has taught me to stop underestimating this child.  Even when I am doing so unconsciously.  Again, I will go into more detail in another post, but for now, AJ is using RPM at school for math and reading, answering WH questions, oh I just can't get enough of this.  It's been a huge eye-opener and we can't wait to see what he'll do next.

From all of this, we have learned that AJ is a multi-approach child.  Limiting him to one form of communication does not work for him.  What is so amazing is how he uses all of these things together to communicate his world.  Amazing.

{Vision}
Nothing new to report. Hooray!

{Eating}
AJ's been throwing us for a loop with his eating recently.  Time to bust out that Nuk brush and Z-vibe and get at it again.  With all the growing he's done, I know that his entire mouth, throat, etc. feels different, just as the food and liquid going down it feels different.  He gets so much of his overall body awareness and coordination from his mouth and when that's all jacked up, so is the rest of him.  We will keep working on it.  But overall, there is only one food on his NO list, and that is celery.  He's come a LOOOOOONG way.  He enjoys hot/flavorful sauces on his food.  If it doesn't have enough zip, he's generally not interested in it.  He's also quite obsessed with frozen fruit pops.  After a long conversation with his feeding SLP we have discovered that he gets quite a bit of organization from these cold tubes of delight.  It used to be super spicy foods, now its the cold.  We just keep rollin' with the punches.

{Lil' Sister}AJ has surprised us with his attention to things changing around here.  He can identify and choose his sister's voice during his speech time at school.  Be.still.my.heart.  He continues to watch her videos with us.  We don't want him to forget about her even though she's not here yet. He helped get her room ready.  He likes to play in her room, and steal her shoes.  All in all, the beginning of a beautiful friendship, I think.