Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Taking to the skies with Amelia Earhart

  Yesterday was my first solo flight with all four children. My co-pilot had to return to work and so I took the controls alone hoping that when he returned at the end of the day, we'd all still be here!
  Will woke up happy and playful and I wrangled the cattle into the van for our school run (on time I might add). The girls were dropped off and then Ben. I was looking forward to our first day of just being mother and son. We had a really great morning. We played trains and trucks together, did a puzzle, went outside for a while, cut and ate watermelon (a favorite of his) and just spent time quietly playing and interacting with one another. I have to say, I was totally rockin' this adoptive mother thing. He was taking me by the hand and leading me around the house. He was looking into my eyes and laughing and engaging me in games. It felt really easy and natural. He loves books and so we spent quite a bit of time exploring the pages of different lift-the-flap books. It's so fun to see him delighted with a picture or exclaim something in Chinese in an excited voice. The rest of the day was just as successful and my heart was encouraged. Maybe it's just not going to be that hard. And then the night came.
  Williams goes to sleep very well. No objections. No crying. While it's nice to not hear the screaming protests of a child resisting sleep, it's not a good thing. Think about it. The whole reason little babes scream going down from a very young age is because they sense the separation from their parent and they don't know they're safe outside of the physical presence of mommy and daddy. Over time, they learn that they are, in fact, secure. But even older children delay the separation at night (i.e. I need ANOTHER drink of water. Please scratch my back. Will you read another 1400 page Dr. Seuss book?) It's the simple desire to stay close to that which makes us feel secure. So Will falling asleep without protest means he is disconnected from us and does not yet recognize the need for soothing from us. When he does finally recognize that need, a whole new set of sleep problems will arise.
   He was restless in his early evening sleep--calling out, crying with his eyes tightly closed. I would go in to the room and stroke his cheek and let him hear my voice. At 2 a.m. he woke crying hard and it escalated from there. I can only compare his cry to that of a siren. It's intense, monotone and the only modulation of sound comes when I approach. Given our euphoric Mary-Poppins kind of a day, I was sure I could console him and lull him back to sleep like some kind of orphan-whisperer. ER. WRONG. I am the absolute last person he wants to see during his night struggles. I wanted to say to him, "Do you not remember the lovely day of bonding we've just experienced? I'm cool, remember? I make train sounds and act like I don't know where the puzzle piece goes! We're good now."
Nothing.
The crying lasted roughly the same amount of time as the Vietnam War. Finally, he surrendered his inconsolable outburst and fell asleep on Brent. We laid him in the bed and tried to get some rest.
  Progress with Will these days is like drawing a beautiful image on a magna-doodle and then someone comes along and wipes the screen completely clean. We have to start all over again and I'd just like to see some outline of the image there from day to day.
  It is ONLY because of the Holy Spirit's gentle holding of me that I am able to walk through this right now without becoming frustrated or angry with Will's behavior. I can honestly say that I haven't had one moment where I've wanted to do anything other than hold him tightly and love him. His face is the picture of innocence. His life has been rather sloppily constructed on a platform of choices made by others for reasons unknown. And so he cries.
  In the night I pray. I pray for the salvation of our four children. Without Christ, there is no balm for the hurts of this world. I will fail each of these little people. He won't. They call us an orphan's "Forver Family," bit I don't like the naming. The only one who is forever is God and when we're all in His presence, we'll know peace.
And so I start again today. Anew. Re-drawing an image of beauty for Will to see. One day I'll wake up and find the image intact.

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