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. 

Little Bird

I have heard stories of 4 year olds coming home from China who wear size 18 month clothing because of malnutrition and their bodies being in fight or flight mode their entire lives. Stress stunts growth.

After we were home for a couple of weeks with Ava, it was time to visit the pediatrician for a check up, blood work, and vaccinations. The only real cause for concern at this time is Ava's weight. 

Fortunately, Ava has always been fed regularly but mostly plain rice and noodles. So while she came in at an amazing 40th percentile for height (a lot of kids are barely on the growth chart, if at all), her weight was ranked as less than the 5th percentile.

The pediatrician recommended adding in as many healthy fats as possible to her diet. Okay...

Ava eats like a bird.

She likes food...sort of. She likes rice, noodles, hard boiled eggs, mandarin oranges, French fries, dumplings, and chips. But she doesn't eat a whole lot of any of them...except for maybe the eggs. And google shocked me that the whites (she rarely eats the yolks) only have 17 calories each. No wonder she eats them 4 at a time.

So I started adding a little olive oil, coconut oil, or butter to her usual foods. It still didn't seem like enough.

We tried peanut butter, but after gooping up her mouth, she now passes. Adam is allergic anyway.

We tried nutella. And our little bird LOVES nutella. We must be related.

Another hit is the broth-like soup that comes with entrees at our favorite Chinese restaurant. She loves it! And fortunately for me, she also likes my homemade fried rice. 

Our fingers are crossed that all of our efforts will be rewarded at Ava's next weight check in two weeks. 

Mommy Guilt

This has been one of the hardest weeks that I can remember (it's possible that I blocked out some that were worse, but who knows).

Not only did we have the expected ups and downs with Ava, but Jacob was sick and home from school all week. Sick may be too trivial of a term... He was miserable with a horrible case of hand, foot, and mouth. His mouth was so blistered that he did not eat for a couple of days, and I was thankful for the small amounts of liquids he would drink. 

I had to keep reminding myself that he was miserable because after hours of whining and crying and screaming, I was tempted to post a Craigslist ad for "free child to good home."

I tried my best. Truly, I did. But I kept failing him, Adam, and Ava. For when Jacob would scream and cling to me, Ava would become upset and need comforting. And how do you comfort two children who want their mommy to make it all better?

You don't. 

Well, I didn't. One child would inevitably lay in the floor screaming while I tried to tend to the other before begging Jacob to Please Stop Whining and Screaming at Mommy!!!

And while I was rushing around trying to keep everyone alive and somewhat sane, I missed lunch day for moms at Adam's school and his last tee ball game of the season. 

Last night, Ava could/would not sleep. She had a happy day, but she fought sleep until close to 11pm and even then the sleep was fitful. 

Today, Jacob's blisters were much better and he was able to eat more than he had eaten all week. Ava spent lots of time outside and splashing in the kiddie pool. Adam had some one-on-one time with dad, and I...I took a nap. 

It is 9 pm and Todd is trying to get Ava to sleep. The house is quiet and calm. I feel bad for all the times I shouted at Jacob this week. He was sick and ordinarily I would have cuddled with him all week... But Ava needed me too. No one tells you how to navigate these obstacles in the adoption books. And then Todd told me this evening that I was a lot more patient with Jacob than he would have been. 

Maybe I didn't completely fail? It sure feels that way. 

"Before I got married I had six theories about raising children; now, I have six children and no theories."

-John Wilmot

Want some cheese with that wǒ ài nǐ?

In Mandarin, "I love you" is "wǒ ài nǐ." You run the words together quickly, "wuh-eye-knee."

Jacob has been running a fever off and on the past few days. He has needed lots of extra hugs, kisses, and I love you's. This morning, he also needed a "lecture" (how much can you really lecture a 2 year old?) on how whining will not get him what he wants no matter how bad he feels. Mommy had met and surpassed her tolerance for whine by 9 am this morning.

In the midst of my tirade of, "no more whining. Please stop being so whiny," Ava runs over with a big grin, and proclaims: "wǒ ài nǐ!" 

What is this? Is my daughter randomly and excitedly telling me that she loves me?!?!?!

No... bubble burst. 

She thinks I am telling Jacob that I love him over and over again (in an irritated and exhausted voice),  so she wanted to join in the fun of me whining "no more whining".

Now I need a synonym for whiny. Somehow thesaurus.com's suggestion of "obnoxious" doesn't seem to carry the same connotation. And while gripe and moan are pretty good synonyms for whine, they lack the wuh-eye-knee noise that sounds like an actual whine. Maybe I'm pronouncing them wrong. Maybe "stop being so gruh-eye-pee" would get the point across.

I guess I should google it first, though. It might mean "scream at the top of your lungs" in Mandarin.