From Aug 28 (photos taken Aug 28, Sept 18, and Sept 24):
So, we've been home a month. I'd decided a while ago that today would be the day that I'd stop keeping the blog. I've waited a while to write this, hoping that something eloquent from the heavens would fall straight down out of the sky and then right out of my mouth about this whole experience. Not so much.
I was rereading the blog recently and I was amazed. It happened TO ME but still I can't wrap my head around a lot of it. I am so glad that I put the time and the energy into the blog. One thing that I've learned since I gave birth the first time, 17 years ago, is that you forget. You think, How can I possibly forget this? I am knee-deep in diapers and whining and snot and toys, HOW could I forget? And, then you do. I am so glad that I wrote so much down about this process.
"You will survive. I promise you. It wasn't going to be easy. Deep down in your heart you knew that, even if you never admitted it to yourself. You are exhausted, stressed, jet lagged, adoption lagged, and coming off a year of adrenalin. And so is your daughter. Imagine being all of those things and not being able to communicate them to anyone. I would be cranky and difficult too!
It will pass. You will fix the medical problems. She will learn English. You will eventually not feel exhausted. Your new family dynamics will become the norm and not something you have to put any thought into. Then one day you will look around and realize that the worst has passed and things are going well. Until then, it is ok to be frazzled. Allow it. You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to make it perfect for everyone around you. You love Lyric with all your heart but you have to get to know her, which is a very different thing. It doesn't mean you don't love her, just that your souls have to learn how to talk to each other." -Best Barn Friend, Aug 3
I woke up this morning and, at one point, there were three little bodies in the bed with me. Lyric was snuggled into my side but the desperation was gone. There seemed to be only a deep want to be closer to me. She giggled and laid her forehead against mine. Middle Child reached his toe across my body to flirt with her and Wild Child initiated the "Uf!" game with her ((the "Op!" game has evolved into the "Uf!" game - same game, different sound.) I realized that we were a family.
It only lasted a few minutes and then they were arguing over the Leapster and she was hanging around my feet, crying, because I'd put the Ergo into the truck without her. "Baby, you are going." That's family, too. (As of today, Sept 30, we hardly ever use the Ergo anymore. :) )
When I find myself sitting, staring at my living room wall, thinking, I don't think I am strong enough to do this, there is always that small voice in the back of my head that whispers back, But, Honey? You are doing it.
Life is gloriously imperfect, marvelously messy, and magnificently unpredictable.
For twenty-something years I listened for Lyric, I finally became proactive at listening for her, I heard her, we went and got her, and she's here now. We did it. I did it. She's real, she's mine, she's home. <smile>
As of this day, she's sleeping through the night, she loves her daddy, the boys love her, our trauma bond has completely transformed into something deeper and much more meaningful, she has an appointment Oct 1 to move the catheter, and then wait and see about removing it completely...we have a new normal. Our souls are learning one another. And, it's a good thing.
We are home.
|Yep, that's them...|
|...three normal American kids in a normal American family.|
That's it. Thanks for hanging out with us.
It was a true pleasure to share this bit of the road with you.