Changes

I have had a lot of folks ask recently how Ava is doing, what she is like, and how everyone is adjusting. So here goes...

Physical development: Ava has made some great improvements since coming home. For lack of a better term, she was very floppy when we first met her. She ran floppy, walked a little floppy, and would fall over constantly. Ava now runs much better and does her best to keep up with Adam and Jacob. She does not quite have their stamina yet, but she is improving daily. When Ava first came home, she could not even climb onto the couch. Now, we have to watch her and Jacob to make sure they do not jump off of the couch. She also likes to climb onto the coffee table.

English: Ava picks up new words and phrases every day. She seems to understand most of what we say. Her favorite things to say are: "my turn," "stop it," "Elsa," and "chocolate." Ava also loves music and tries to sing along even if she doesn't know the words.

Attachment: When we first met, Ava was very angry at me for replacing her nanny... her nanny who she called Mama. What helped our particular situation is that Ava did not suffer from lack of love, and she craves affection. She slowly learned that I will give her affection when she is sweet, when she is sad, when she is angry, and when she is naughty. I always love her. The second thing that helped was meeting Adam and Jacob. She immediately recognized them from pictures we had sent to her at the orphanage and bonded right away with them. She knows they are her people, so that must make Todd and me her people, too. I take Ava with me almost everywhere including to drop off and pick up Adam and Jacob from school or Summer Fun programs. I want her to see that I always come back. We still have our moments where she wails this primal, guttural scream that sounds something like a wounded animal that has been cornered. Thankfully, this rarely happens, but when it does it is both heart breaking and frustrating. I wish she could tell us what all she is thinking and feeling.

Food: Ava is slowly adding new foods to her diet. In addition to eggs, rice, and noodles, she now enjoys watermelon, cereal, goldfish crackers, chocolate, rice crispy treats, and French fries. Oh, and sweet tea! I do believe this girl is southern. 

Sleep: Ava has been sleeping in our room, but she slept in Jacob's room for the first time last night. She seemed to sleep much better in his room; i.e. she didn't fall out of bed. However, it took her a long time to fall asleep. She and Jacob are currently napping together in their room. Whew.

Personality: We are still learning who Ava is and what makes her tick. As she grows more and more comfortable with us, her silly side has emerged. She loves to pretend to want a high five only to fake us out. She will also offer us a bite of food only to pop it into her own mouth while giggling hysterically. She loves to help and to show affection. She helps me fold clothes, wipe up spills, and gives the best spontaneous hugs and tickles. Her newest thing is to whisper "I love you" in my ear like it is a special secret. I wish I could bottle it and save it forever. She is still exploring her independence: sometimes she acts helpless and other times wants to do everything herself. We tend to follow her lead and offer encouragement to build up her confidence. She loves to swim, sing, and chase her brothers.

How are we doing? Amazing and bad and everywhere in between. I am taking each day one minute at a time. One minute is how fast things can change. Everyone will be happy and sharing and playing. The next minute, I have three kids melting down because there is only one spool of ribbon to drag around or because Adam is playing with Minecraft Steve and Jacob needs the diamond sword and Ava screams and cries because everyone else is screaming and crying. Adam taught Jacob to say "dumb" so to counteract that I taught Jacob "smart."  He hurls, "you're smart" at Adam like an insult. It's pretty awesome. Todd and I finally had our first date night since meeting Ava. We ate dinner at our favorite local restaurant and did what every parent does when they are away from their kids...talked about the kids. Todd is still adjusting to being outnumbered by the kids and helps me during my meltdowns. I have been too busy to dwell on the fact that my house is a disaster and that I yell more than I would like. Unfortunately (or dare I say fortunately?), I am never too busy to think of the approximate 143 million orphans in the world. Ava changed my world in the best possible way. 

"It sounds beautiful, adventurous, even romantic in ways, right? It is beautiful. And the crazy thing is, it is so simple. Don’t misunderstand; it is not easy. But it is simple in that each and every one of us was ultimately created to do the same thing. It will not look the same. It may take place in a foreign land or it may take place in your backyard, but I believe that we were each created to change the world for someone. To serve someone. To love someone the way Christ first loved us, to spread” ― Katie J. Davis, Kisses from Katie

Connecting the Spots

Ava had another quick check-up this week for a weight check and two more shots. 

Ava has only gained about 3/4 of a pound, but she is clearly thriving so the pediatrician told us to keep working on adding foods but that she looks great. She really does. (Photo courtesy of 2 year old Jacob)

The night of her weigh-in was one of the rougher nights we have had in a month. She was happy until it was time to lay down and then she started screaming. And she kept screaming and crying and throwing things and banging her head and rocking until an hour or two later when she finally passed out from exhaustion. 

During her epic meltdown, I sang to her, tried to cuddle her, and rocked her. She screamed, hit, and kicked. I said, "no" but then I would try to comfort her again. I told her "I love you." And in the midst of her screams she returned a shrieky "I looove shzoooo."

She woke up the next morning with a big toothy grin. 

And then we encountered our first clueless observer. 

We ran a few errands and bought some white t-shirts to tie dye. In the checkout line, a woman asked if "someone got into the markers." 

I didn't have to look around to know she was talking about Ava. I knew. I have heard the stories of other parents being asked the exact same question. 

I glanced down to Ava (just in case she actually HAD gotten into the markers) and back at the woman. 

I opened my mouth to educate her, to chastise her, to defend my beautiful little girl. But all I said was, "no" and walked away. 

How could I not SAY SOMETHING to that woman? I screamed inside my head. 

Did I fail my first test as Ava's mom? I hope not. I hope it was the right way to answer a clueless question. 

Then Charleston happened. I'm sure you heard about the white man who entered the historically black church and killed 9 praying people. 

As a white person, it's somewhat easy to believe racism and discrimination are not a problem. It's easy because you blend in and look like everyone else. 

In China, we stood out. People stared at us for being white and people stared at Ava for being spotted. We were treated differently. Everyone was kind and helpful, but it was obvious we didn't belong. 

Everyone will always be able to pick out Ava as our adopted daughter. She won't even be able to blend in with her own family. 

So everyday, I show her my spots and I point to hers and say, "we are the same." And Jacob shouts, "me too! I have a spot!"

I shall call her 'Mini Me'

Having two boys is fun. There is a special bond between a mom and a son... But when it comes to adventure, the boys look to their dad. Boys... I thought. 

But now that I have a daughter, I am discovering a new world. 

A lot of Ava's learning happens through imitation. She watches us do things, and then she imitates our actions. 

Time and time again, I see her "being mommy."

Ava puts her babies to bed the same way I put my babies to bed... With a hug, a kiss, and I love you. 

When Jacob drew on Adam's door with a Sharpie, I scrubbed it clean with a Mr Clean Magic Eraser (it worked!!). Days later, Ava found a white sponge in the toy closet and set to work cleaning the door. 

As I wash my face and put on moisturizer, my little girl rubs her face and asks for "lo-shun." So I put a little in her sweet hands, and she happily rubs her cheeks. 

I put on makeup and she grunts and points to her own lips, cheeks, and eyes. I pluck my eye brows and she pretends to pluck hers. 

And it hits me. It hits me hard. With this sweet daughter who watches me ever so closely, who listens to every word I say, I have a new responsibility. I am responsible for showing her how to love others and how to love herself. 

There will come a day when someone hurts her...when someone picks on her...when someone reacts negatively to her birthmarks. 

I have to be strong and positive and embrace my physical flaws (i.e. Not talk about them) so that she can be strong and positive and trust when I say that she has no physical flaws. 

This is scary. How many times a day do I mutter about my muffin top or my chin hairs? (Too many times.) How often do I say, "I feel pretty today" or "that was a great walk, I feel so strong"?? (Not enough, if ever.)

Out in public, most little boys do not give Ava a second look. And the ones who do ask about her spots, well, they are delighted to know that they have freckles or little moles like hers. They are COOL. 

But the little girls... Oh, how they stare and their little minds churn and struggle with what they see. Because the blemishes of little girls are fussed over. Little girls are supposed to be pretty and perfect and hairless (except for their long, perfectly coifed hair, of course). Beauty is on the outside. 

But not for me. Not anymore. Beauty is more than perfection. I prefer the beauty of imperfection. The beauty of a person who walks despite the crippling effects of cerebral palsy. The beauty of the brave little girl with a giant left leg that she must drag around..and she does because nothing slows her down. 

I want my little mini me to grow up to be silly, determined, compassionate, empathetic, hard working, and brave. 

Her beauty is just the icing on the cake, the gilding of the lily. I love Ava's spots. I want her to love them too. 

Even the polar bears

It is no secret that the past couple of months have been hard... What with the traveling, the adoption, and the life changes since we have been home. 

Ava is doing amazingly well. Just two months ago, she lived in an orphanage with hundreds of other children and (according to her nannies) was terrified of strangers. 

Now, she is a beloved daughter who will spontaneously give hugs and cuddles while smiling her cheesy grin and shouting "I lob shjou."

Six weeks ago, we met a screaming, crying, scared little waif. 

Last Friday, a happy, growing girl watched ducks at the park. 

Saturday morning, an adventurous and sassy girl visited a tunnel, a waterfall, and took her first hike. 

Saturday evening, a daring and courageous girl rode on a tube with Adam, Jacob, and mommy. 

Boy, I would have paid some serious money to know what she was thinking. Less than two months ago, she lived in an orphanage with limited exposure to the outside world. And now these crazy people are pulling her behind a boat. 

Sunday, she visited church for the first time. I stayed with her and Jacob in the toddler's class. We were probably pushing our luck with so much "new" in one weekend. Ava had trouble sleeping. I suppose the classroom triggered some memories and maybe grief or fear. 

So Monday, we stayed at home and I wondered just how in the world I would survive the summer with these three monkeys. 

That night, as we were putting Adam to bed, I said his good night prayer. 

"Dear God, please let me survive the summer. Amen."

Adam laughed and said he hoped I didn't survive. 

I sighed and started to chastise him when he said, "I'm just kidding. I love you. Everyone loves you. Even the polar bears. "

I'm not sure what I did to deserve the polar bears' affection, but I think I will survive the summer. 

Losing It

Part of our adoption training focused on adoption loss. 

As the adoptive parents, we have lost Ava's early years and many of her firsts. We missed rocking her to sleep, her first smiles and giggles, and her first steps. 

Ava lost her birth family, her orphanage family, her country, her language, and the life she should/would have had. 

Ava's losses are huge. But no matter how big and how seemingly insurmountable Ava's losses are, her birth parents are the ones who lost it all. 

They will never know this smart, silly, and helpful girl. They won't see her grow or learn. They won't be there when she gets married or gives birth/adopts babies of her own. And the saddest, most maddening part (to me) is that I do not know if they care that they are missing Ava's life. 

Adjusting to life with Ava has been mostly easy. But while she is gracefully given the occasional (daily? hourly?) emotional outburst, I'm still learning how to deal with mine. No one wants to hear a 33 year old woman whine or cry about how hard it is to hold two toddlers at one time. I have to be the adult. I have to suck. it. up. But there are too many feels that must be felt. So sucking it up doesn't always go so well. 

Sometimes, but not often, I'm embarrassed. Like, when Jacob tells everyone at the dinner table that he pooted. Or when Ava has a melt down in front of our neighbors because I was not doing our walk 'right.'

Sometimes, I am extremely amused while pretending to be exasperated in order to discourage naughty behaviors. 

Ava climbed onto the coffee table and shot me a sassy look while simultaneously shaking her behind at me. 

"What, mom? You don't want me to dance on the table?"

"Come on. Raise the roof."

And how do you explain the exhausted and powerless feeling when nap time rolls around and your child wants to sleep NEVER and thinks it is a good idea to try to fall on her head?

That. That is when I'm on edge and snap because Todd doesn't take Adam with him on his daily escape attempt, I mean, trip into town. That is when I haul Ava back into the bedroom so she can assault the window shades and batter her head against her bed before passing out on the floor. 

So as I sit on the couch with nerves twitching like a crackhead in rehab and wonder where my sanity has gone, I still pity Ava's birth parents. Maybe they regret leaving her behind. Maybe they don't. I just can't suck 'it' up. I can't stop feeling the feels. Because no matter how hard my days are, no matter how much b.o. I have from not showering as often as I would like, or no matter how frizzy and unkempt my hair becomes, I would not trade one single moment of the life I have gained with my Ava girl. But her bio parents, it is their loss.