Loving Sevy

Monday, November 20, 2017

<<< So incredibly grateful for the love and support and the “same here”s in response to my last post. I heard from so many of you who are stumbling alongside me on this wearisome journey with our adopted children. It was also really eye opening to hear from so many who were able to relate to my words and feelings in regards to your biological children for various reasons. It makes perfect sense. While the part of my story that I’m sharing is specifically about my struggles in bonding with my adopted child, It’s good to know that the words I share may have an impact on an even broader range of parents >>>

I wasn’t so naive to think that Sevy’s adoption would go as smoothly and easily as Archie’s. With Archie, things were as close to seamless as could possibly be. Our first time meeting him was truly magical. My flashbacks of that moment play in slo motion. His floppy little body stumbling down the long white hallway, illuminated by the bright fluorescent lights above. Running straight into my outstretched, wide open arms. Our bond was immediate, strong, and mutual. I was in love. I physically ached for him in the months between our two trips. He was my baby. 

Despite both being orphans with Down syndrome in the same country, Sevy’s life had not looked much like Archie’s. Her living situation was very different. She bounced around a lot more. She wasn’t attached to any caregivers. She was five years older than he was at the time of their adoptions. I knew it wouldn’t be the same. But I was hopeful. And I subconsciously set myself up for failure. 

Nothing was the same. From the second I stepped through the door and a caretaker pointed to a little girl whose face I recognized. “This is the one”, she unenthusiastically declared in reference to a child who I only knew by the stories I created about her in my mind. A stranger. My daughter. 

I wouldn’t admit the disappointment I felt after that first day with Sevy. Not to myself, or anyone else.

The months in between were long. And while I was anxious to get her home and out of the hell she was living in, my heart didn’t hurt like it had in the wait for Archie. Please, God, make me miss her. That was my daily prayer. 

Once we were finally back in Bulgaria and it was time to pick her up, I was terrified. I already felt like I had failed her. I felt like I was doing everything wrong, or just maybe that something was wrong with me. 

I was desperate to live into the adoption clichés. I was desperate for the magic. I was desperate to feel what I thought I should be feeling.

We all read the quotes and the stories. We hear people talk about how they love their adopted child exactly the same as they love their biological child.  

We read romanticized thoughts like Bob Constantine’s: “I have four children. Two are adopted. I forget which two.” 

I understand these things, and I don’t mean to take away from anyone whose story genuinely goes this way. Remember, my story with Archie did. But the problem comes when we start to believe that these are the things we should be feeling. That this is the way it should look. That if we don’t feel these things, and it doesn’t look this way, then we are doing it wrong. 

What I have learned through my relationship with Sevy is that I must allow myself to feel exactly how I’m feeling. To own my feelings, live in them, admit them. Because if I don’t admit them and I try to pretend, then I am only perpetuating some ridiculous stigma. 

People will judge me. People will question me and people will say mean things. All will be people who have never walked in my shoes. 

But this is my truth:

I have four children. Two are adopted. And hell to the no, I do not, nor will I ever, forget which two. How could I? I remember very clearly the fear, the sadness, the endless piles of paperwork. The sleepless nights, the desperate attempts to live on Eastern European time so as to never risk missing an update. I remember the long flights, the jet lag, the language barrier. I remember the orphanage smells, the faces of starving children. I remember the moment it registered in my mind that most of them would die before ever knowing the love of a family. I can’t forget. 

I don’t love all my children the exact same. It isn’t as if Sevy has just always been a part of our family. She entered my life a nonverbal, stubborn, untrusting twelve year old. She refused to hold my hand as we walked out of her orphanage door towards our taxi and her new life. She pushed me away, she yelled unintelligible sounds at me, that I am certain were meant to cut deep. She cringed and cried when I so much as softly rubbed her back. 

From day one, loving her had to be a choice. It had to be intentional and deliberate. It didn’t feel natural. 

Loving her hasn’t always been easy. But it has always been an honor. There will always be a depth to our love that could never exist with another soul. It was born in tragedy and heartache. In a shadow of loss and pain and trauma. It is redemptive and rare. It has felt heavy, it has left me weary and broken. It doesn’t look like a storybook. But still, in its own dark and beautiful way, it is magic. 

Twenty months into being her mom and we are a long way from where I had hoped we would be. We are also a long way from where we started. This mountain that we are climbing is high, but we are climbing it together. And in the end we will be strong, secure, indestructible. 

My Sevy Girl, I love you. I promise. 

Lots of Love!

I’m back.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

It’s been a year and a half since my last post. To those who have loyally followed me, some of you since day one, I’m so sorry. I left you hanging in the middle of Sevy’s adoption trip and that was just a jerk move. To those of you who are still here- thank you. To those of you who have asked and encouraged me to get back here- thank you. 

I’m back. 

Where I left off, we had just gotten Sevy out of her orphanage. We had a successful first day and even an ok first night. Ok meaning nothing overwhelmingly terrible or horrific happened. But it was far from easy. She cried a lot for reasons I couldn’t figure out. Was she in physical pain? Was she frustrated that she couldn’t communicate? Or was she simply scared? I believe it was a combination of those things and many others. 

That night and the days to follow I lived in a steady state of intentional denial. It’s all I could do to stay afloat. She stiff armed me from the start. She sought comfort from Ace and turned her back to me. 

I was the enemy. 

Shortly after she was home I went on a writing retreat in California. I almost backed out a thousand times. Could I leave her just a few months into her being mine? We were already struggling and I started to wonder if me leaving for three days might make things even worse. But I also knew that I needed it. For so many reasons. One of the main ones being a break from her. 

On the first night there, I sat in a room full of strangers. Possibly the furthest out of my comfort zone I’d ever been. My plan as we went around the room and introduced ourselves and shared a little about what brought us there, was to say my name and a couple of basic, benign facts about my life and quickly pass the torch. I wasn’t gonna cry. I wasn’t gonna be vulnerable. I was gonna keep my wall up and just allow everyone else’s tears and stuff to be a distraction from my own. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat as the girl in front of me wrapped up. And then- the dam broke. I found myself completely powerless over the words pouring out of my mouth. And it was that moment that I became fully aware of my feelings. Denial was no longer an option. 

I finally finished my hyperventilating cry and my attempt to explain the heartbreak that I was experiencing in my relationship with Sevy and i felt exhausted. I also felt dumb and ashamed and less than. 

I still don’t really understand how the hell I found myself on a retreat in Ojai that May weekend. But it was exactly where I was supposed to be. With the exact people I was supposed to be with. 

After that weekend I decided I’d start sharing more openly about life with Sevy. This is the stuff that’s hard to talk about. It’s also the stuff that we most need to talk about. 

It’s been a year and a half since Sevy has been home. Since then it has been one step forward, ten steps back every single day. We have had some seriously incredible moments of bonding. We have had some ugly moments of dissension. She learned my buttons as quickly as she could and has made it her job to hit them as hard and as often as she can. 

She has not made it easy for me to love her. But let me be very clear- I love her. Fiercely and madly and in a way that i can’t fully comprehend. I would cross oceans over and over and over again every single day to get to her. She’s my daughter. But it’s also okay that my love for her has been hard work. That is doesn’t come naturally like it does (and always has) my other three. 

It’s adoption awareness month and i feel that the most important thing I can do, in this month and always, is share my truth. It’s important that we acknowledge reality and that we quit attempting to live into clichés. Adoption is beautiful. It’s magic; it’s powerful. It can also be painful, it brings grief, and heartache. We often feel so alone, so isolated, so afraid. 

Since opening up about my struggles with Sevy on social media, I’ve had so many people reach out to me. I’ve had countless private conversations with moms who are in the exact same spot. I’ve cried with moms I’ve never met simply because we found someone who gets it. 

Over the next few weeks I will be sharing more about my life with Sevy. The good, the bad, and the ugly. If you have any questions or topics you would like me to discuss specifically, leave me a comment or shoot me a message.  

For now, here's a visual of how Sevy felt about me when she first came home. I mean, she still feels this way a lot but she just shows it in less direct ways. They told me in her orphanage "she will show you the middle finger when she's angry." They were not lying.

This stuff is hard. You're not alone.

Lots of Love!


Bringing Sevy Home: Part 1.5 (cause i totally left out an important piece of part 1)

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

So I got my days all out of whack when I was writing Part 1 and left out a very important piece of our first day with Sevy. We didn't just hang out in the hotel room that night. We had an awesome night with a new friend.  So let's back it up: 

On Sunday the phone in our hotel room rang. It was a woman named Tonya. Tonya lived in Sofia and explained to me that she had been following our journey since the beginning when we brought Archie home. She was so nice and it was really such a breath of fresh air just to talk to her. She wanted to meet us and do something nice for us so we planned to meet in the hotel lobby the next night.

I was pretty excited for some adult interaction, especially with someone who spoke English. When we got off the elevator and walked into our hotel lobby Monday evening, we saw Tonya standing there, flowers in hand, and we had a big group hug. We chatted for a bit and then decided to head out to dinner. She took us on a little tour of the city on the way. It was really cool to see parts of Sofia I hadn't ever seen and to learn some history. We ended up at this giant mall where she told us we were going to be eating at a restaurant called "Happy". Ace was so pumped because we had always seen the huge "Happy" billboard when driving in and out of the city. She always wanted to find it and go, but I was slightly apprehensive that it might be an adults only type of venue. So I was thrilled to find out it was just a restaurant. 

Before heading to dinner, we adventured around the mall, hit up the toy stores (obvi).  But the best part was finding this giant hanging butterfly art installation. As soon as I saw it I got a lump in my throat. After my brother died, my mom told me that whenever she sees a butterfly, she knows it's Corby reminding her that he's still there. So naturally, for the last almost ten years, I have done the same thing. And the butterflies always appear when I need them most. I needed to know that he was there. That he saw me and that he was proud of me. And so he sent hundreds of butterflies to make sure I got the message loud and clear. 

We finally got to Happy and had the best dinner ever! I think Tonya ordered one of everything off the appetizer menu. She wanted us to try it all. And oh my goodness it was amazing. Sevy was (inevitably) overwhelmed. She was incredibly giddy and excited. I had to really watch her closely because she was stuffing food in her mouth as fast as she could and hoarding as much as she could onto her plate so that we couldn't get it. It made me so sad. It also brought me back to the days when Archie was first home and did the exact same thing. 

My little foodie, Ace, was in heaven. Never thought she would get to enjoy sushi in Bulgaria. She was so happy. Tonya and I talked about any and everything. It was like talking to an old friend. It can be really hard to go out anywhere in Bulgaria with a child with special needs because they are simply not accepted in their society. So it was really nice to have someone with us, who was from Bulgaria, who had our back. Made me feel very secure. 

Sevy gave me some major attitude when it was time to go. This was the beginning of the arms crossed, glare as hard as she can thing she does. Quite regularly. 

But as soon as she saw I was taking her picture.....This: 

Tonya dropped us back off at our hotel where we said our goodbyes. As we headed back up to our room I thought, "I wanna be more like Tonya." What an awesome person. She didn't have to do any of that. She went out of her way to give us such a special night. Brought us flowers, treated us to dinner. Nothing to gain. Just a woman who wanted to love and support us in what she knew was a crazy time. She told me many times how thankful she was for us. And we are so incredibly thankful for her. 

 Still to come: The Real Part 2

Lots of Love!

Bringing Sevy Home: Part 1

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Seven weeks ago today, my girls and I were spending our last night in Bulgaria before heading home to our boys. For some reason, in the last seven weeks, I have been completely unable to sit down and write about our pickup trip, and life at home with Sevy. And it isn't "busy's" fault. Sure I have been busy, but I have had more than enough time. It has just been difficult for me to put the words in order. But I'll give it my best shot:

Our flights to Bulgaria were smooth as could be. Aside from that one time when I almost fainted. Ace was asleep in my lap and the last thing I wanted was to wake her, so I couldn't move. But I knew I was about to faint. I have a history of fainting so I know when it is coming. I broke out into a sweat and lost vision. I knew I needed orange juice stat, but I didn't have the strength to lift my arm and push the attendant button so I just waited it out. Laid my head on Ace, breathed slowly, and waited for it to pass. Then when I was able to, I pushed the button to call the attendant. I didn't feel like I could talk so I typed onto my phone "orange juice". But by the time she got to me I was able to say the words. It was really freaky. Especially on top of the anxiety I was already feeling. Not cool.

But aside from that weirdness, flying with just Ace was a freaking picnic compared to our previous trip when we had Radko with us. She is such an awesome little traveler.

So we arrived in Bulgaria on Sunday morning. Got to our hotel and immediately walked down the road to Ace's favorite store where she stocks up on kinder eggs. These chocolate eggs with a prize inside that she is absolutely obsessed with. So many chocolate eggs.

Then we went back and just hung out in our hotel room for the rest of the day. We tried to stay up as late as we possibly could. It didn't work. We crashed way early and then we were wide awake in the middle of the night. But we were totally slap happy and giddy about picking Sevy up the next morning. We were delirious and laughing until we almost peed our pants. The perfect sleepless night. 

The next morning we headed to get Sevy. The whole thing was so different from our experience with Archie. With Archie there was so much more of a build up. In this case, on both the trip when we met her, and the pick up trip, we just opened up the door to her tiny little group home apartment and there she was! 

We stayed there for about twenty minutes. There was one worker who was visibly struggling with letting go. She tried to hide her tears from me but I could see the sadness in her eyes. She told my translator that she was going to miss her so much, but was so very thankful that we were taking her home. Then they explained to her that she was going home with her new mom and sister, said some teary goodbyes, and off we went.

We spent the morning exploring Sofia. That afternoon we had her Visa appointment. After that we went back to the hotel and just chilled. Well, I chilled. They jumped around the room like a couple of monkeys on speed. I could tell immediately that I was in trouble with this girl. She was a firecracker right from the start and was into absolutely everything. I had to rig up the mini bar after I found her hiding in a corner attempting to open the tiny vodka bottle. 

She loved the bath. Spent as long as she possibly could in there. Splashing and singing and cracking up. It was so awesome to see her filled with such joy. I was a little nervous about bedtime. Her first night away from the only home she could likely remember. She laid on top of me and kissed my cheek. Over and over and over. She literally kissed my cheek until she fell asleep. 

At some point in the middle of the night I woke to her sitting up next to me, ferociously rocking. No sounds. Just rocking. A tough reminder for me of how my girl spent her first twelve years of life. I sat up and put her in my lap and rocked her. Up to that point I hadn't cried. I didn't cry when we saw her, I didn't cry when we drove away from her home. I was starting to feel strange about the lack of emotion I was feeling. But at that moment the dam broke. I held my tiny twelve year old girl and rocked her in my arms. I thought about Archie and his life before we got him. I thought about Ace and Radko when they were tiny babies and I would rock them for hours. It is painful for me to know that two of my babies didn't get that. When she finally relaxed and was back asleep, we laid back down. She made sure she was cheek to cheek with me. And we stayed like that for the rest of the night. 

Part 2 coming soon...
Lots of Love!

23 Hugs

Thursday, March 24, 2016

{Preface: For those who keep up with our family strictly through this blog...Sevy is home! I have a post in the works about our pickup trip, her homecoming, and settling into our new normal. But this moment had to be documented today}

Ace has been super anxious for me to bring Sevy up to school at lunch so that her friends and teacher could meet her. I was a little bit nervous as we walked in. She's still a little unpredictable at times, and I just wanted this moment to go just as Ace had been envisioning it. Sevy was excited. She didn't know what we were doing but she knew she would be seeing Ace. She skipped (her version of a skip) all the way in. Wearing highlighter lipstick and eyeshadow that she had applied, unbeknownst to me, in the car on our way there. 

Ace was so happy to see her. She beamed with pride as she walked her to our special table away from her class. Her classmates looked on to see Ace's new sister who they have heard so much about. We ate lunch and small-talked about Ace's morning. 

Then towards the end of lunch we headed over to her class table to introduce Sevy. We walked down to the girls' end of the table, and Ace rejoined her class. The girls were thrilled to see Sevy. They asked about her "makeup" and told her that she did a perfect job on her eyeshadow. They giggled with excitement and told her their names. 

The boys were obviously interested but kept quiet and just observed. I watched their faces as they looked at her. I could see the wheels spinning in their inquisitive minds. We stood there for a couple of minutes. I answered some questions from the girls as the boys listened intently. We were getting ready to say goodbye, when one of the greatest moments of my life happened. Without so much as a word, a little boy got up from his seat, walked towards me and Sevy and asked me, "would she like a hug?" I told him she would love that. He opened up his arms and she went in for the hug. He embraced her. Not just a pat-on-the-back, side hug. And the next thing I knew every single boy was lined up behind him. And the girls followed. I choked back tears as I watched my daughter light up with pure joy as 23 second graders patiently waited their turn to give her a hug. 

Ace was absolutely giddy. I know that it was completely unexpected for both of us. They didn't have to do that. They aren't at an age where I would have even expected anything like it. It wasn't in their comfort zones. While most of them have been around Archie, Sevy is even more "different" seeming to them. They know that she's twelve, but I know they wonder "HOW is she 12?" She's so much smaller than them. They know that she was an orphan. That she has only been with us for one week. It's all a lot and I know that it's hard for them to comprehend. It's hard for me to comprehend myself! 

It was just one of those moments that changed my heart forever. You know those moments. It wasn't some grand gesture. In fact, onlookers might have thought nothing of it. It was a simple act of love and compassion and kindness displayed by a class of second graders. And it was everything to me. Absolutely everything. 

Lots of Love!

in defense of my son's first mom

Sunday, November 1, 2015

I was not there for the birth of my oldest son. I don't get to know what happened on that day. I have imagined every different scenario possible for how the moments after he was born looked. What emotions his mother felt when the doctor told her that her new baby was born with Down syndrome.

My son was born in a country where society rejects kids like him. I know that his birth mom was a single mom with three other children. And I know that upon hearing the news that he had Down syndrome, she decided that she could not keep him. I know that she left the hospital without him. That he stayed there for a couple of weeks and that he then went straight into the orphanage where he lived for seven years until he finally came home to us. Those are the limited facts that I know.

Almost four years ago, my daughter and I decided we wanted to do something big for World Down Syndrome Day. She was only three. Her big brother had been home with her for just six months. They very quickly became inseparable. She had this innately protective nature when it came to him. I had never seen anything like it. We wanted to share Archie with the world. So we made a video. We had absolutely no idea the attention that it would get. It went viral in a couple of days and suddenly our little duo was changing lives.

The majority of the feedback I received was overwhelmingly positive. I got emails from people all over the world who had either recently gotten a prenatal diagnosis of Down syndrome, or had just given birth to a child with Down syndrome, expressing their gratitude for our video and explaining the impact it had on them. Several mothers even wrote to tell me that they were planning to abort their baby, but came across our video and changed their mind. I've gotten to witness through pictures these babies being born and growing up.  It's been incredible and powerful and it has kept me sharing, in spite of the trolls, and uninformed loudmouths.

Yesterday, George Takei shared our video on his Facebook page. And with over 9 million followers, the comments came rolling in fast. I have a "never read the comments" rule that I am usually pretty good about abiding by, but I just couldn't help myself this time. I have never felt the need to address the disgusting comments from the trolls. Things like "that retard should be kept in a cage", while they immediately make my blood boil, don't even deserve a response. What I do want to address though, are the people who have interpreted our video as us being negative towards my son's birth mom. Because that is so far from the case. We are incredibly thankful for his birth mom for giving life to our son.

Here's the thing: Our son was rejected at birth. That is a fact. And the truth of the matter is, it wasn't just his mother who said she couldn't keep him. It was the society that he was born into as a whole. And that's where the problem lies. There is no support, no help, no acceptance for mothers in her situation. Do we think that his birth mother was selfish or a terrible person or that she simply didn't want him because he was born different? No. We don't believe those things for one second. On the contrary, I grieve for her. At some point every day, I look at my son and I feel deep sadness for her and all that she has missed out on. I think about his siblings and how much they would love him. I wonder if they think about him on his birthday or holidays. I try to imagine what they look like.

Was our son abandoned? Yes.
Was he rejected? Yes. He absolutely was.

But it wasn't because his mother had no heart. It wasn't because she just felt he was going to be an inconvenience to her and she didn't want the trouble. It was because everything she knew told her that she couldn't keep him. That he would be better off in an institution. That he didn't have a place in her society. It is devastating that there are still so many parts of our world where this type of mindset prevails, and mothers are left hopeless and broken. I believe that my son's birth mother felt as if she had no choice. And that is a terrible, terrible injustice.

Lots of Love,


Along Came Archie

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Along Came Archie

I have an extra chromosome
And I am quite sure
It's just part of who I am
And no, I do not need a cure

You don't have to be afraid of me
No need to look away
Just talk to me and you will find
That I have lots to say

When I speak you might not understand
But my laughter says it all
When I run I'm a bit clumsy
And often times I fall

I may not be as fast as you
I go at my own pace
And that's okay cause we should know
That life is not a race

And it's a misconception 
That I'm happy all the time
I get mad, and sad, and grumpy
And mom says I often whine

My eyes they're shaped like almonds
When I smile they disappear
But with them I still see you
Just like with my ears I hear

Sometimes people point and stare 
Sometimes they make fun
And I know that I am different 
But I'm not the only one

None of us are just the same
How boring would it be
If the world was filled with people
Just the same as you or me

Lots of Love!


Monday, August 24, 2015

It seems that in my adult life, nothing has ever gone according to plan. Or even remotely according to how I foresee it going. And if something does go according to plan, it's never without major hiccups. I'm not complaining at all. I have learned to ride the coaster fairly well. I keep meltdowns to a minimum and go with the flow.

So when Joey called to tell me- just a few weeks after we closed on our house and moved our family to Birmingham- that things at his job had taken a turn and he was going to be needed back in Houston full time, I wasn't shocked. 

The kids had just started at a new school that was amazing. Finding a school that I felt comfortable sending Archie to had not been an easy task, and this was that school.  I was completely in love with our house and our two wooded acres. I had all sorts of plans and visions and hopes. 

The kids and I {along with our pig, cat, and tortoise} stayed in Birmingham while Joey and I went back and forth on what the heck to do. He was in Houston most of the time, coming to see us on weekends. It was not easy on any of us. 

So at the end of the school year, we decided we would all come back to Houston. So here we are. 

Shortly after moving back, an unexpected job opportunity fell into my lap and just a few days later I found myself back in the classroom after five years of being a stay-at-home-mom. 

Radko is now in "school" full time. He gets to come with me, and his classroom is about 100 feet from mine. But I still cried dropping him off on the first day. And popped by just to sneak a peek at him every chance I could possibly get. 

First day of school crew

The big kids started at a new school where they already have friends and they are super excited and happy. Archie is in fourth grade, and Ace is in second. What?!

As for Sevy....we still wait. We have had a variety of setbacks. All of the changes that have happened over the past few months have slowed things down quite a bit. We are so incredibly anxious to get back to her and bring her home. I know that she will be here before we know it, and that this waiting time will soon be just a distant memory. But it sure does suck. 

That's all for now. Between lesson planning and back to school paperwork and a teething baby who literally screams at the top of his lungs in the night- my brain is fried. 

Lots of Love!

life in the wait

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

During the months in between our first trip to meet Archie and the second trip to bring him home, I must have sworn to Joey a thousand times, "if we ever adopt again we cannot go back to a place that requires two trips." The waiting was excruciating. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. And all I could do was think about and worry about Archie. Literally counting down the days.

It's been one month since we said goodbye to Sevy. One month down. Having three kids at home this time has definitely made it easier. No time to wallow. A million and one distractions. Time can't stand still. But oh how I miss her. And cannot wait to have her home.

I have spent the last month just really trying to process this whole thing. It's also been one month since I said goodbye to Gus. Since I hugged and kissed him for what would be the last time. It has been an emotional roller coaster. And even though I have gotten to a place where I truly am at peace with our decision, there are times when all I can do is play the "what if" game in my head. All I can think about is him pulling my hand to his face cause he wanted me to rub his cheek. Some nights are sleepless. It's a kind of grief I've never experienced. It's heavy and isolating. It's a strange and unfamiliar type of grief for me because it's based on a decision we made. Gus didn't die. No one told us that he couldn't be ours. No one took him away. We let him go.

But I know that at the end of even my very weakest days, I fall asleep a little bit stronger.

To be honest, I have been mostly faking it for the last month. I hide tears. I force smiles.
Yesterday after I picked the kids up from school, Ace was telling me random stories about her day. (I don't get those often from her). And I just started to cry. She asked me why I was crying and I told her that I just love her and her brothers so much that sometimes it overwhelms me and I just have to cry.
Then we had this conversation:

ACE: what does overwhelm mean?
ME: it means it's so strong and it just takes me over and I can't help but cry happy tears.
ACE: oh yeah I know. Like when I'm trying to practice my guitar and I'm singing a new song and I'm sounding so beautiful and Archie won't stop trying to sing the song with me even though he doesn't know the words cause it's a song what I was making up in my head while I was singing it. And it's so annoying and then I just cry. Is that overwhelms?
ME: exactly.

That. Kid. 

I'm finally finding my footing and getting back to a place where the laughter is genuine. I am thankful for this offbeat life. The adventure, heartache and joy that it brings. And a family who patiently navigates it with me.

{If you are considering adopting or know someone who is, please consider Gus! He needs out. A family with no small children would be best. He's an amazing kid. He loves to cuddle. He loves to be sung to. I know that his family is out there and I have to have faith that they will find him. Because I'm not willing to accept what his fate will be if they don't. If you want to know more about him or have any questions at all please contact me!}

Lots of Love!

the hardest part

Friday, March 27, 2015

We are home. Reunited with Archie and Daddy. Our trip back was unfortunately NOT uneventful. It was filled with a lost stroller (thanks to airline). Which meant lugging giant baby and heavy bags through the airport. Not realizing the gate for our connection was a thirty minute walk. Radko fell asleep on that walk turned run (because we were almost late). So 28 pounds of dead weight plus heavy bags. Ace dragging one. I felt like I was a Biggest Loser contestant on the first day. Any time we passed one of those people driving the carts I would moan audibly and say things like, "oh my gosh I'm dying..." in the hopes that they would offer a ride. They didn't. Radko decided he wouldn't sleep but for forty five minutes on our combined twelve hours of flying. So that was awesome. Finally a customs guy told me in a very mean voice that I had "wasted enough time already" when I fumbled to get our passports out. Jerk.
But we made it.

So, about Gus:

We arrived in his tiny town of Stamboliysky last Sunday. And met him Monday morning. He was moved to a group home in this town, from he and Archie's old orphanage, about six months ago.
Seeing him in real life, holding him and kissing him was surreal.

A lot can happen to an orphan in four years. So much damage can be done. I prayed and prayed that he had been spared and protected over these years. But it was clear from the moment I saw him that he had suffered a great deal. 

Day one was good. He was quiet and reserved.

Day two he started trying to explore us a little more. There were some moments that brought cause for concern. But I brushed them off.

Before we committed to adopt him, I asked as many people as I thought might have an answer for me if he had any aggressive behaviors. Having a baby in our family, that would have been a deal breaker for us. I got very little feedback, so we had to trust what we knew from when Joey met him almost four years ago, and what was indicated in his file.

On our first day at his group home, before they brought him in, the director and some other workers in his home met with me. They asked if I had any questions, and again, that was my one question. Is he aggressive, specifically to other children.  They assured me that he was not. Then sort of backed up and said things like "he prefers to be with older children and adults" and talked about how he would sometimes push in frustration. One of them said that I would need to "always guard the baby". Needless to say, those things had me worried.

And on day three, my biggest fears were confirmed. I witnessed him be very rough with another little girl in his home. And anytime Radko came near him he shoved him down. And eventually made it his mission to "get to" Radko to push him down or kick him when I restrained his arms. I won't go into details here, but it was scary and I ultimately had to spend my time protecting Radko. And even Ace. I choked back tears that entire last visit. This was the reality. And it wasn't good.

I left that day convincing myself that we would figure it out. We would make it work. We absolutely could not give up on him.

But the thoughts of what could happen in a split second to Radko (Or Ace, or Archie for that matter) kept running through my head.

After consulting with a doctor who specializes in international adoption, tough conversations with many adoptive mom friends who get it, and many tears and prayers, Joey and I have decided that we cannot be his family.

This has been gut wrenching. We are beyond heartbroken.

It is not his fault. And those behaviors are not who he is. It is just a harsh reality of what having to grow up literally fighting for your life can do.

He and I bonded a great deal. Which makes this even harder. He is a sweet and precious soul. He would climb up in my lap and just wrap himself up in me. He always wanted to be cheek to cheek. Loved when I kissed his face. I knew that he felt safe with me.

Thinking about those moments makes me want to say, "we will just make it work... He needs us."
But I know that it isn't right. I can't put my children at risk. I can't force them to live in fear. It isn't fair to them. And isn't fair to Gus either.

I am angry, confused, and just hurting. The only thing I can think as to why this has all turned out the way it has, is Sevy. If not for Gus, we would have never found her. If someone had told me he had become aggressive, especially towards smaller children, we would have never moved forward. I would have never laid eyes on her.

And I will stop at nothing to find him the right family. So maybe this is just the way it all had to happen.

I am grieving so many different things all at once. It is heavy and it hurts. Letting him go will be one of the hardest things that we ever have to do. I'm afraid of the days when I wake up drowning in guilt and regret. But Joey and I know that this is the right decision for our family. No matter how hard it is.  

That's all I've got. 

{Mean people with not nice things to say please go away. I have no time for you. We knew the risks going into this, we know the reality of life as a nine year old orphan in Bulgaria. In spite of how smoothly Archie's adoption went and how well he did right away in our family, we did not have some fairy tale or romanticized idea of how things would be. We could have and would have been willing to take on all the behaviors and damage that came with Gus. This is the one thing we simply just cannot}

{To my friends who have been here, and get it, and who have been my rocks throughout this...you know who you are...Thank you. So much}

Lots of Love!

hotdogs and heartache

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Yesterday sucked. There's just no other way to put it. Our final visit with Sevy was cut short due to circumstances beyond my control . So we only had about an hour with her. It felt rushed, and the whole thing was just not how I imagined or would have wanted. We gave her a quick hug and were shuffled out the door. No one took the time to explain things to her. She probably expected us to be back today. But we weren't. I knew that she couldn't understand me when I turned back to shout, "we love you and we will be back as soon as we can." She smiled and blew us kisses as we walked away and screamed, "ciao, kaka!" A Bulgarian word that means big sister. That's what she had been calling Ace all week. (I had to continually remind myself that she was not speaking Spanish). 

Ace was teary and still questioned why we had to leave her. Why she couldn't come home with us now. And those are questions that I just really can't answer. I mean logistically and technically, I know the answers. But telling a six year old, "well some more paperwork has to be done, and court has to happen..." does not even come close to sufficing for her little heart. 

So I distracted her with talks about our fun summer plans and all the things we would do to prepare for Gus and Sevy's homecoming. (For those who have asked, the second trip to come pick them up and bring them home should be July or August). We smiled and laughed thinking about all the fun ahead. But we still both hurt. 

Then we got back to the hotel to relax and cuddle and I find out that my dog died. Seriously? My sweet Jessie who I can't even remember life without. Joey and I got her in high school. She really was our first baby. I knew that she was getting old and that her time left with us was limited. But I can't really imagine a worse time for her to go. 

As soon as Joey said the words I lost it. Like ugliest of all the ugly cries. Thank goodness Ace had her headphones on and was in her Minecraft zone cause there is no way I can tell her about Jessie while we are gone. Literally minutes before I found out, we were coming up the elevator in our hotel and Ace said, "it smells like Jessie in here. And I love it. Cause I miss Jessie." (There was a terribly funky smell in the elevator and Jessie had gotten quite stinky in her old age. Ace was right. It did smell like Jessie)

I went to bed last night so discouraged. So sad. So homesick. I counted the days we had left here and tried to figure out all of the ways to make it seem shorter. "Well it's practically already tomorrow and we leave extremely early Thursday morning. So really we only have four days left." Then I felt guilty for wanting to leave so quickly. I am leaving two of our children behind. That completely breaks me, and the in between months will come with many lows. But at the same time, this is just hard.

This morning I woke up wanting to do absolutely nothing except for mope and watch the clock go by. So that's what I did for a while. Until I noticed Ace across the room playing with and talking to some imaginary friends. And Radko who rarely does what she wants him to do. She much prefers the compliance of the imaginary friends to Radko's antics.

And I realized I was being a total fool. Wasting the one free day we have here, cooped up in a hotel room. We should be exploring, adventuring, laughing. So I got my sad butt up and we headed to the zoo! After a couple of miserable, wet and cold snow days, the weather was absolutely perfect. And the zoo was amazing. It's the oldest and largest zoo in Eastern Europe. Opened in 1888. It was beautiful. The animals were amazing and just right there. Sometimes the only thing between us and them some "not thick enough looking to me" chain link. Ace was completely in her element. The zoo was enormous and we did a lot of walking. Radko was awesome. He "talked" to every single animal we saw. And always waved goodbye.

We got hungry towards the end and I told Ace we could eat whatever she wanted. I didn't want to let her see my lack of confidence in the hot dog stand she chose. So I smiled and ordered us two hot dogs. As he was cooking them I noticed french fries on the sign and ordered some for Radko. I guess we got lost in translation and he put the fries on each of our hotdogs. I told Ace that's just how they do it here. I also told her, as I cringed and "mmmmm'd" as I 
took my first bite, that they eat their hotdogs cold in Bulgaria. 

When we left I realized it wasn't going to be as easy as I thought to find a taxi to take us back to the hotel. So we bought a plastic lion from a man standing outside the zoo selling toys, in the hopes that he might help. I asked him, "taxi?" He said, "da, da" and immediately got on his phone. But apparently he couldn't get through to them and after about ten awkward minutes he gave up and we "merci'd" him and walked away. Not really sure where we were walking. We were far from our hotel and there wasn't a taxi in sight. I started to get a little freaked out. I'm a wuss in general. And being in a place where I can't sufficiently communicate with anyone and feeling literally lost was really scary. Ace noticed the word "hotel" up in the sky. She assumed it was ours. It was obviously not. But it seemed like it was close enough to walk to. It. Was. Not. Close. But we trekked on and finally made it there and the nice lady at the front desk called a taxi for us. Before we knew it we were safely back at or hotel.

Yesterday was hard. Yesterday was awful. But today- in spite of some twists and turns- today was magical.

Also, thanks to these two love monkeys for pressuring me into a talk that I was fully unprepared to have with Ace. I'm sure all the Sex Ed teachers in the world would have died hearing me try to answer her question: "why was that one monkey bumping the other one's butt?" The thirty people standing around watching and laughing (awkward) didn't help either.

Good times.
Lots of Love!