Climbing

photo by skeez. public domain.

Hey, Hi. It's occurred to me that I haven't posted since September. I was shocked to see that. Not because I'm so punctual when it comes to this blog, but because it seems like only a couple of months ago that I was posting about Jacob's football season. So much has happened--things kind of derailed at the end of football season, so I thought instead of a long, drawn-out explanation of things, I'd just make a bullet list and try not to meander...as I tend to do.

• My back took a turn for the worse. Probably because of all the extra work of a toddler. My injured back was injured more and nose-dived around Halloween. I didn't get to take Will trick-or-treating. He was a little dragon. My costume was "writer with a back injury." Brandon stepped up (a sign of things to come) and took Will around the cul-de-sac. They both loved it. Will was astonished by candy bars.
• After an MRI it was determined that I (finally) needed surgery to repair a collapsed disc. The image was scary. I was very eager to have it fixed. Surgery was scheduled for January 12, 2016.
• My sister hosted Thanksgiving. It was the first time I didn't bring pie. Or maybe I did. I don't remember. I was on heavy painkillers. I do know I brought one of the turkeys. It was beautiful and the whole dinner was delicious. I remember Will hated his port-a-crib and I got two hours of sleep between 6-8 am, when Brandon finally took him out of the room. It was his first time staying somewhere else since we brought him home. I don't remember much else.
• Will's first Christmas was so fun. I'll do a separate blog post for that. It was wonderful to have a little one seeing his first Christmas. The older kids were awesome. We got to Skype with Braeden from Riga, Latvia. Lots of laughter and gratitude. I made our traditional chiles rellenos dinner, but this time I had lots of help.
• Chelsea, Matt, and Carly came for the week of New Years. They got to meet Will for the first time! Carly and Will were shy at first, but they recognized each other from our Skype sessions. Then they were pretty inseparable/adorable. We got lots of snow! The kids had lots of snow play in the yard. Will loves snow. It was sad to say good bye.
• My surgery (my first ever) went well. So weird to be awake and blinking one minute and then waking up to a new world--a world of agonizing fire the size of a basketball in your back. They hurried and got the pain meds in me. Gah. I went home an hour post-surgery. I had my phone alarms set for meds. Brandon took really good care of me that first week. I don't really remember it. My surgery was on Tuesday. The next morning I said, "It's Wednesday, right?" He said, "It's Friday." He must have taken really good care of me.
• A week after my surgery, Braeden returned home from his 2-year mission in the Baltics. I didn't get to go to the airport, so I waited at home. I was using a walker at this point but couldn't get in a car. My friends Sara and Laura went and took lots of pictures and video. Yay for friends! When Braeden came to the door, and I was able to hold him, it felt like a piece of my heart was in its place again. He stayed by my side and talked to me a lot while I rested.
• The following week, Brandon had to return to work and Braeden was job hunting, so Will and I went to my mom and dad's house. That was a dream. They both took such excellent care of me and Will. The craziest thing was when they set up our (me and my sibling's) old crib for Will! They still had it! They helped me through tears, we laughed, they made sure I rested and exercised, and fed me a lot of really good food. Will absolutely loved it there. I stayed for two weeks. I did a lot of healing, inside and out.
• My second grandchild, Brady Robert Bare, was born on February 10. He's adorable and has the biggest blue eyes I've ever seen. It broke my heart not to be there, but Matt's mom, Gigi, was able to be there and help Chelsea afterward. I'm so grateful for good, helping mothers.
• Back home, Braeden had found an afternoon-to-late-hours job, so he was able to take care of Will (and finally get to know his new brother) and me until Will's naptime. Maren would come home from school after that. Braeden went from never having changed a diaper to being Mr. Mom. It was great. I was up to walking 0.9 miles in 40 minutes. That's the lowest speed on the treadmill, but the fact that I could be upright and walking for 40 minutes was awesome. I was starting gentle yoga. My back pain had gone from a burning sack of lava to two small jagged rocks pressing against each other. I was pleased with that.
• Most of my family and some of Brandon's family were able to come for Will's baby blessing. I was worried about Will having a meltdown during the blessing, I prayed about it. My answer came simply: Have Will shake hands and say the name of all the men taking part in the blessing, and then give him a cookie while he sits on Grampa Anglesey's (my dad's) lap. Maren made cookies that morning. It worked beautifully. Brandon gave him a blessing while Will happily munched on a big homemade cookie on Grampa's lap, surrounded by all these friends he'd just greeted. And know what? The cookie was made by Gramma A, Because they'd had the same idea. Will ate Maren's cookie afterward. :)
• That same Sunday, Braeden gave his mission homecoming talk. It was a memorable day, and the first day I'd been to church since December. The family came over for food after. I loved that. I love my house full of people.
• Late February something went really wrong. I had a sore throat and slight fever, no biggie. Then one night my legs started burning, like they were on fire. By morning the fire had spread through my whole body and by the next morning every joint--from my toes, ankles, knees to every joint and  knuckle in my hands were frozen hot. On top of this, it felt like every nerve in my body was plugged into an electric generator. I couldn't move. My muscles were slack and I was terrified. I called the doctor and he could see me in two days. I would spend an hour working out the stiffness in my joints enough so someone could help me out of bed to use the bathroom. I walked like a drunk robot, having to really focus on my muscles for them to move. I couldn't raise my arms to eat. I had no appetite. I lost 6 lbs in a week. One night my breathing was very soft and shallow. I felt like a burning husk. My eyes teared constantly. I was scared. I took stock of my life and thought I'd done okay. Dramatic, I know, but that's what I did.
• The doctor referred me back to my surgeon as soon as possible. In the meantime, he prescribed me Neurontin. It helped dial back the burning and I no longer woke up with frozen joints. It smoothed out my movement. It helped me sleep. I love Neurontin. I still felt a continual buzz coursing through my nerves, and the whole inside of my mouth and my tongue tingled like pop rocks.
• The next week my surgeon referred me to a neurologist. The appointment was at the end of May, two months out. He guessed that a virus was attacking my nervous system. So I had two months to dwell on that. I had a brain MRI and blood work. Both came back normal.
• Physically, I had to start back at the beginning, walking 10 minutes, completely exhausted after. I'm so grateful Braeden was home for a while before going to BYU for spring semester. And Brandon totally stepped up to take care of anything else on top of his own demanding responsibilities. He became Super Brandon. He did things I didn't know he could do. He's been holding out. ;) I love Super Brandon.
• I couldn't write anything during all of this time. The pain would just overpower any focus. I could barely read. The medicines made me tired. The idea of writing romance was as far away from me as was running a marathon. My publisher, Covenant, was so patient with me, moving my deadline dates further and further ahead, and encouraging me to put myself and my family first. Thank you, Covenant.
• Separate from the nerve issue, my back was getting lots of rest, and gratefully, continued to strengthen. So much so that as long as I was careful and didn't lose my balance or get jostled, the back pain became secondary to everything else. That was helpful, and as the pain subsided, I was able to focus and start writing again. As long as I could stay awake. I started back up on the novel I'd had to abandon, and the words came.
• Braeden left for college. Brandon took him to Provo and that weekend they were able to attend Brady's baby blessing. I missed them both. I missed them all.
• Jacob gashed his shin open on a hurdle. For the first time ever, I took Jacob to the hospital. For the first time ever, I saw my kid's bone. Kinda cool. I'll spare you the pics. We were there for 4.5 hours and I didn't bring my pain meds. He sang songs to me while we waited. My favorite was Pat Benatar's "We Belong." We were both hobbling back to the car when all was done. But we were rock stars.
• Maren's knee caps had been randomly popping out over the past year. Very painful. She'd shove them back in and cry and we'd get her on ice and ibuprofen. It was becoming more frequent. The doctor took xrays and found both of her patellas are an inch too high. She'll need surgery on both knees. We're enjoying trips to the PT as they strengthen her up in preparation for that. Hooray. O_O
• Will has been a champ with all of this transition. When I was down, he'd bring me books to read and pretend meals from his kitchen. He'd say, "Mommy back hurt." Or "Cheek?" and I'd lean as best as I could while he reached up and rub my cheek softly, saying, "It's okay. It's okay." Melt. My. Heart.
• I worked hard to keep walking and tone up my muscles the best I could. Brandon and I decided that I would fly to Provo the first week of May and attend a day of my favorite writers conference and see my friends, and then spend a few days with Chelsea and her family, Braeden, and finally hold my grandson. Physically, the trip wore me out. Emotionally, it was very healing. I loved it. My friend Sarah Eden loaned me her cane, and I'm so glad she did. By the end of my conference day I could hardly walk, but without the cane I would have been done a lot sooner. Hooray for the cane brigade!
• I'm skipping to the end, because really I've just been resting and exercising and waiting for my neurologist appointment without trying to self-diagnose with unnerving online information.
• NEUROLOGIST APPOINTMENT: The neurologist suspected either a lesion on my spinal cord (formed as I healed from surgery), or a virus attacking my myelin sheath (the protective covering of the nerves themselves). I had another MRI of my back to look for signs of lesions. We looked over all my other images, too. That was trippy, seeing side and top cross-sections of my head. Hello, eyeballs. You are HUGE. Anyway, it all looked clean. My back is healing well, nice spaces there. No signs of lesions anywhere. Which is GREAT, but he had to go back to my symptoms and test results.
• Diagnosis: Transverse Myelitis. Which means a virus (or trauma of some kind) compromised the myelin sheath. It will take a long time (months to years) to heal. But the odds are very good that I will heal. Here's how I explained it to my family: 

The neurologist compared it to hitting your funny bone (on a much larger scale). Something hit my nervous system and the onset was big and painful and rendered me pretty useless for a time. Then that twangy pain spread out to the rest of my body and is lingering. I thought that was a pretty fair comparison. Another description of how it affects my nervous system is that the connection between my brain and nerves is interfered with like static on a phone line.

SO. There's no cure. I just keep working at getting stronger. Exercise. Be careful. Vitamins. I'll probably add oils, too. It may take months-years, and the tingling sensation might never go away. But I should regain my strength and coordination as my myelin sheath heals. And that's good.

And that's where we are now. It's been two days since the diagnosis and a few things have been running through my mind. 1) I'm grateful to have a "something" to work toward instead of a blank. 2) I'm so grateful to those who've stepped up to help me and my family. 3) It's incredible how the absolutely important things rise to the top and the rest fades away simply because you are rendered incapable. It's a paradox, how freeing and how caging it feels. 4) You. My friends and family, and all of those who've prayed on my behalf, who are still praying, and who are wondering how I'm doing and hoping I'm okay. That's why I wrote this post. Because I know you're wondering. I'm overwhelmed by the number of you who care. But knowing that has buoyed me and helped me work harder.

So I'll keep working. And counting blessings. And doing what I always do. 

Climb.

Two-Month Anniversary: Gotcha Day

I finally uploaded this video and I'm amazed at the changes in Will since we first met him on July 20. In a lot of ways he was more like a 9-month old baby on that day and even that first week, instead of a 25-month old little boy. I can see his detachment and discomfort (not surprising considering he was just passed off to strangers), the way he's leaning away and even his legs are not engaged in being held. Now when we hold him we note his "tree frog" grip. Even his toes grip us tight, and his arms rest on our necks as he is happily packed here and there, asking us what everything is called. In the video he only makes eye-contact a few times. But I also see glimpses of the toddler just waiting for a chance to be heard, listened to, taught. I see a brave little boy who is choosing to observe and wait and see what exactly is happening before he allows fear to take over his emotions. It did, eventually, and what a road we've had facing those fears. But he didn't let it keep him from coming to us, and that was brave.



I simply handed him a toy car, and he was willing to come right to me. And when it was time to leave that chaotic room and see what was outside, he was willing to come with us again. He's an explorer. An observer. A question-asker. A risk-taker. Thank goodness.

I prefer watching this video without the sound. The sounds of that room and China still make me a little nuts. But I'm in total caregiver mode asking those questions. That's pretty much all the info we got. But Brandon, Will, and I had each other and we did what we could with experience and what we'd studied, and focused on what worked and what didn't. He's a different little boy now. Not totally, but it's like he'd been bucked off-track the first two years and now he's returned to becoming himself. He's finally turning over his "inner parent" to us, and trusting us to do that job for him, and to do it better. That alone has eliminated half the battles, and he's having a childhood. He plays, he laughs, he pushes boundaries and his body, and if he gets frustrated or hurt, he turns it over to us. Mama will help. Dada will make it better. Will will be okay. Will isn't alone anymore. Will has Mama, Dada, Meh-en, Eckob, Dog, and Beh. He looks at family pictures and knows Chessa, M't, A-Car, Bampa, Bamba, and Sheh. He hears Brodie barking at the front door and goes running to see who's there, and squeals in utter, really LOUD delight when it's Dada or Eckob or anyone from his little tribe. That's right, now we have the dog barking AND the baby screaming at the front door when somebody comes. WELCOME. We are so excited to have you WAIT WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WE'RE CUUUUUTE.

 He is a sweet little man. I recently read on an adoption blog, addressing the traumatic state of your adoption those first days, that "the child you get in China is not your child." It's true. They find themselves later. They just need to be given that chance.

I wanted to take some new video to post with the Gotcha Day video, so yesterday I took the camera outside. He got pretty quiet for the camera, but we had fun exploring, This is a pretty typical day out back with Willster. (Please ignore the space of dirt where the pool used to be. We're getting sod put down soon! I hope...)







What we're seeing:

GROWTH: Will has grown from being in the less-than-3% in weight and height, to 6% in weight and 12% in height. Everything is looking good in his development. We are humbled and grateful. He loves to move that little body. If his bathtime play is any indication, he should be a little swimmer next summer.

SLEEP: He's taking his bottle again. 6oz of warm whole milk (with a scoop of formula added until the container is empty) for nap and bedtime. He's doing great with sleep. He rarely wakes up at night, now. HOORAY.

REGULATION: Today was Will's first full day of church. All three hours. His behavior is very typically toddler, and that's great. He likes nursery and interacts pretty nicely with the kids. He offers them cars and gives them back things they've dropped. Today he pushed a wooden ring back and forth across the table with a little girl. I'm happy to see he gets along well with others his age. He had moments of potential meltdown, but there was always some distraction and he pushed through it okay. We kept bear handy just in case, and used it a few times, but overall, he seems to really like it in there. HOORAY. It definitely helps that my new church job is nursery assistant. Perfect!

Last week we took Will to Sacrament meeting and then a little preview of nursery.
He seemed to accept it as just part of what we do. Because we're a family.
Also, couldn't you just squish him?

COMMUNICATION: Will is pretending to talk on his toy phone. He says, "Haloo." Then nods his head like he's listening. Then he says some gibberish, then hands the phone off to someone else to say "Haloo." He started this after talking to my mom and then Chelsea on the phone. It's adorable. New words: tah...tah...tah (hot; this is whispered), tee (eat), Bampa/Bamba (Grampa and Gramma), Sheh (Shelli), gwink-oo (thank you), quock (clock), sit (kiss), nigh (good night), lebelblelblelbel (Llama Llama), MEEEEEYA...MEEEEEEYA (Come here! It's usually yelled from somewhere I am not. I noticed I say it a lot in the videos, ha).

Happy Anniversary, Will. It has all been totally worth it.

Two Weeks Home

This last Thursday marked two weeks home with Will, and tomorrow marks four weeks since Gotcha Day. Here are the things we are seeing:

SLEEP: Will seems to have transitioned from his fear (terror) of falling asleep, to fearing that we will leave the room. This is GOOD. He has moved from using the end of his bottle as a jump off point to a thrashing, kicking, clawing fight to stay awake, to allowing himself to relax into my arms, be rocked, and then laid in his crib. Sometimes I need to hover near the crib, sometimes I try to sneak out and then have to come back in and just be present a few more minutes, but sometimes I can put him down and he'll settle into his blanket and I can leave. I attribute this change to gas drops after he finishes his bottle (YAY GAS DROPS), keeping the music low but on repeat (Kenny Loggins' Return to Pooh Corner and the Chinese Children's Angelic Choir Lullabies cds, rotated every few days all night or all nap), and Will's progressing attachment. He is clearly no longer afraid to go to sleep, and he likes his room. He says "bye-bye" to everyone, blows a kiss, and gives them  each a soft headbutt before bedtime. The fact that he doesn't want me to leave the room means that he finds my presence a comfort, a reassurance. And that's SO GOOD. I will take it. And it only takes an extra five-ten minutes of comforting and sneaking out. Better than the full 1-2 hours it used to take after his bottle was finished.

BUT...last Sunday night Will had a major meltdown. It happened about two hours after he fell asleep. Jacob and I took turns trying to comfort him. Maren peeked in to see if she could help. Will was a detached, unreachable, enraged wild animal and it was heartbreaking. It brought back the pain of the airplane trip, but I was thankful I could be on the carpet with him and keep him safe, at least. And for the first time, as he thrashed and tore and screamed, I considered night terrors. Is this what we had been dealing with all along? He completely exhausted himself. The kids worried. I cried as he was so spent he could no longer even lift his arms, and all that he could utter were despairing moans, still not giving in to sleep and keeping his eyes wide open, staring at nothing. I gently lifted him and put him in his crib. He kept his eyes open for 10 more minutes as he calmed, and then he dropped. I went and sat out in the hall and sobbed. Then I looked up "post-adoption night terrors" on my phone. The description fit.
The next morning I called my sister, whose son had night terrors from the age of two to four years. Knowledge is good, and so is knowing you're not alone. It was actually a relief. With night terrors, you shouldn't wake the child. Let them ride it out. They won't remember it. It's harder on the parents than the child. Just keep him safe. I can do that. The kids can handle that. And sure enough, the next morning, Will woke up bright-eyed and cheerful, shouting "HI!" when he saw me and reaching for me with both hands and a huge grin, and probably wondering why mommy looked like she'd wrestled a wolverine all night.

That was last Sunday, and it hasn't happened again. He has woken up during the night and I've assessed what was happening, and the night terror hasn't returned yet. A bottle and rocking, or just a reassurance that someone has come and he's okay, seems to be working. Will is sleeping through the night about every 3 nights and last night was a gift of two-nights-in-a-row! But if the night terror does return, I'm better prepared to handle it. We all are.

ROUTINE: We've finally been able to re-establish a sort-of routine, now that jet-lag is finally being shown the door. Will is a creature of habit. Not surprising given the structured routine of an institution. I'm fine with this. He's still sleeping in longer than he should (and I am, too), but school starting will remedy that. Breakfast, playtime, bottle, nap, snack, playtime, dinner, walk, bath, bottle, bedtime. Routine. He loves it. I appreciate it. He takes good naps. I have to wake him after 2 1/2 hours. But I'm starting to see that naptime will be my designated writing time. Yes, I can finally begin to believe that I will write again. And soon.

COMMUNICATION: I heard Will walking around the house the other day repeating a sound. "Ooo-kheee. Ooo-kheee. Ooo-kheee." Cute. A little later he lost his balance and landed on his bum. I asked, "Uh-oh, are you okay?" Getting up, he said, "Ooo-kheee." Okay. Okay. OKAY. He's saying okay. And nobody taught him. Yesterday he started calling cars "car" instead of "chu-chu." He's just picking things up. It's awesome.

COPING SKILLS: As Will's institutional behaviors diminish, it's become clear that his coping skills are poo. We are starting from scratch in teaching him how to handle disappointments, because he's been left to himself to try to cope with the TREMENDOUS disappointments life has shown him already, and no offense Will, but your baby brain filled in the blanks with awful things. This, above all, is why I hesitate to take him out, to attempt even an hour of church, to take him grocery shopping or visiting teaching. His temper is HOT. He gets frustrated easily. If he hurts himself he loses it. If he's tired or out of the "routine" it's clear a meltdown could be looming, waiting for any trigger to set it off. But even in the four weeks that we've been working on this we've made definite progress. He's a different child than when we first got him. It's like he was a seed in dry soil and now he's beginning to sprout. We are blessed to be part of it. The growth will continue, I'm sure. He is doing such a great job already. I wonder who he'll be a year from now? I'm excited for him. "Keep trying, Will! Get up! Dust yourself off. Let me kiss it better. You're okay. Get up. Up! Good job! You can do it!" The other day I was thinking about something I'd felt--I KNEW--from my Dad, from the earliest of the earlies: "You can do it, Kris." Always. It was ingrained in me that my Dad knew I could do anything. It was my fact.
I want Will to feel that from us. I want him to KNOW it. Like it's part of him. "You can do it."
"I knew you could do it."

It's the most powerful thing.

THE FAMILY: Last Thursday we arranged for Brandon to keep Will for the afternoon while Maren and I went back-to-school shopping. Maren and I counted down the days, and Brandon took a deep breath, and shooed us out the door while Will wasn't looking. And they did great! Will realized I was gone, of course, but Brandon distracted him with play. They read "the same three books a hundred times," Will knocked the kitchen garbage over twice, emptied the tupperware drawer three times, they played outside, ate spaghetti for dinner, went on a 40 minute walk, and when we came in the front door towing our shopping bags, Brandon was coming down the stairs holding a freshly-bathed Will, who wore pajamas and a huge grin. YESSSSSSS. Also, my eyes popped out of my head because I couldn't even remember Brandon ever bathing our other kids. I'm sure it happened. Probably? He even used lotion! O_O

Brandon was dog-tired, but agreed that the evening was a success,and I was very grateful.


Speaking of dogs, Brodie and Will have come to a truce of sorts. Brodie realized that after nap, Will sometimes gets to carry around a toddler snack-cup full of goldfish crackers, and sometimes, Will sticks his whole hand into the cup and pulls it out with such force that, to Brodie's delight, a dozen crackers go flying with it. Likewise, Will discovered that Brodie likes to eat goldfish crackers, and that's fun. So, they are in a "mutual appreciation" phase of their relationship. But I have noted that bringing Will home is the event that made our 6 1/2 year-old "puppy" grow up and act his age. Kind of bitter-sweet. He may bark his head off at the "murderers outside our door," but he's my affectionate, sweet dog. I hope he grows to be a good friend to Will. And protects him from those murderers. *eyeroll*

Jacob was at Scout Encampment up near Spokane all week and Will recognized his absence. He pointed out pics of "Eckub" anytime he was near them, and he clapped and smiled when Jacob came home. Cool.

I'm excited that the kids get to go back to school, but honestly, I've loved having them close. I've leaned on them and they've lifted me up. They've encouraged me and thanked me and witnessed all the things. They've put their arms around me when I felt like collapsing in tears. They've changed diapers and babysat and let me nap. They've been awesome. I couldn't ask for better kids. But I'm stronger and routine will be good for all of us. They need their friends and activities. And they'll have an excited little brother to come home to.

Loving Will is improving all of us.

I hate imagining this strong, smart, silly, affectionate boy growing up anywhere else.

Night and Day

It's taken me awhile to get to this post for a few reasons.
1. Sleep. I told my daughter it's like I've been crawling in the desert dying of thirst and sleep is my water.
2. This is our third day home and I just barely unpacked my laptop. That shows how big a priority number 1 is.
3. Avoidance. The last few days have been rough. But we're doing okay. We're hanging in there. We have a lot to be thankful for. But it's been rough. Number 1 has a bit to do with that, too.

We left our guide in Guangzhou and boarded a bullet train to Hong Kong. We were on our own. Will didn't like the trip at all. Our guide gave us a few warnings: Change to Hong Kong money as soon as we can because the taxis there don't take Chinese money, use the taxis, not private drivers, and she told us what it should cost to get us to our hotel. We managed to find our way out of the depot to the street, and we were immediately met by a nicely dressed, older driver of a private car, offering us a ride. But we hadn't changed money yet and had no idea where to do that, it was dark, and we'd had our warnings. Brandon murmured something about changing money and the man offered to take our Chinese money, and to take us right to our hotel at the airport for a reasonable price. We didn't have the energy to turn him down, and nobody else was around anymore. He led us to an old limo and we piled in. Will fell asleep within a few minutes, and 45 minutes later the limo pulled up in front of our hotel. I cried a little and almost hugged the driver. I think that he was sent to us.

Will woke up in a new hotel room. I think he sensed more change.

This is attitude. See that beloved morning bottle? He refused it. He refused food. Ominous.

He loves watching cars. 

This is during boarding. Brandon is in line for us because Will refused to be held. Great beginning to a 13-hour flight, yes?

I couldn't help wondering what was going on his mind. Good-bye, China. 

I took these next pictures knowing that this would probably be the best part of the flight.

He finally fell asleep during take-off with these headphones on plugged into a Sesame Street show. It was pretty sweet. But he hadn't had his bottle or eaten much, It was a short nap.

When we checked in, Delta had no record of Will's seat purchase. But we had the invoice emails. They couldn't get the three of us together, but a nice guy who'd traveled with kids before switched with Brandon so he was at least across the aisle. 

This is the last of peace on the flight. I came out kicked, battered, broken, and completely thrown up on. I used Melatonin and Benadryl for him and he fought it all like a T-Rex. The woman in front of Will's seat was horrid about it, but we got a lot of compassion from other travelers. I got maybe one hour of sleep, Will got about three. We got off the plane and I thought, "Okay, we're done, we made it." And that's when he threw up a whole carton of blueberry yogurt all over me. Just before customs, and then a 45 minute wait in immigration, and then getting our luggage, and then getting our car, and THEN finding a 7-11 where I finally changed clothes. I was done. I cried, exhausted, from Seattle to Ellensburg. I think Will and I are still a little mad at each other. It was traumatic and even right now the thought of going anywhere or taking him anywhere makes me ill. I've never been happier to be home. Ever.
That's the truth.

But now we are home and what a difference it is making. I think Will loves our house. He roams all over the main floor and plays with trucks and cars and dances and we read books. He loves to go outside and walked on grass for the first time, and my parents brought him a swing. He's sleeping in his own crib in his own room, which is HUGE. We still rock him to sleep before putting him down, but that's okay. It's good bonding time. He took right away to Maren and Jacob. He and the dog are having issues. Mostly territory issues. They'll have to get over it. We still have a long way to go. His institutional behaviors have lessened, his meltdowns are fewer, but we'll be avoiding social situations for a while. His habits of manipulation are coming out now, though, and that's a struggle. We can see how he learned to use certain behaviors to get attention in the orphanage. These could take months-years to unlearn, but I also see he's smart, and quick, and picks up on what works and what doesn't fast. So we're learning how to react, how to re-program this amazing little boy who's been left to parent himself for two years. 

He wants to be loved. We have to show him he can be loved unconditionally. 

And, you know, we have to get more sleep.

A Baby Shower.

My friend is giving me a baby shower.

You heard me.

I'm so excited.

Thank you, Sara! She made these adorable invitations (I removed our address for the blog). And thank you, Laura and Kira and whoever else is helping. We are starting over. It's been thirteen years since my last baby shower, and we've passed along a lot of baby things since then. I've kept some good toys and a high chair. For the grandkids. Heh heh. I found a good stroller at a yard sale, and I bought a diaper bag. A DIAPER BAG. I remember the day I celebrated not having to carry one of those around anymore...silly Krista.

Have I mentioned how I'm so excited? What a strange perspective. Knowing what I'm doing, but still totally not. There are expectations--because I've done this four times. But never as a 44-year-old. And never of an orphan. He won't be that anymore, but it's his beginning. He will be adopted, but even that label is a passing one. We will say, he WAS adopted. That will be part of his story. But the hope is that we will say, "He IS ours."

I totally know I'm not the only 44-year-old to start or re-start a family. I know I'm not the only woman adopting a child over ten years younger than the youngest bio child. And I know I'm not the only grandma to have a baby.

I just didn't know I would be any of those. And here we are.

But I also know that Will has experienced trauma in his young little life. We have tools: love, patience, compassion, strength, education, will, faith, experience. We have the experience of others to draw on. We have support. I had no idea how much. We have laughter. And books. Lots of books.

I know opening your heart up like this is a risk. I know that in a lot of ways. I know there are unknowns with Will, as with any child, bio or not. I know that.

The other day I'd wanted to try something I hadn't before. It was a silly little something--a cup of fresh fruit  and cucumber with lime and Mexican spices--but by the time we could go get it they'd sold out. I pouted. "I wanted to try." My husband just opened up laughing, shaking his head. He put his arms around me. "That's you," he said. "Always so excited to try."

I'm realistic, nervous, hopeful, cautious, scared. Prayerful.

And I'm so excited.

Come see us at the shower! If only to share in the hope!

A Bend in the Road

So, there is this.

And then there is this.

And somehow, our agency, knowing our hesitations, said,
"Would you look at this little one?"

And he was so little. In fact, he is only 5 months older than our granddaughter.

And we're pretty old. Oldish.

But there is this...

And it wouldn't leave. We tried to make it leave.

But something felt different.

Something felt right.

We felt peace.

So this summer, we will go back to China.

Because we can.
He needs a family.
And we are a family.

Meet our little guy, Will.

He'll be two years old in June.

And we can't wait.

I keep learning that often, Heavenly Father's will is a little different than ours. 

And often, the bend in the road is not the end of the road, unless you refuse to take the turn.

So, we're turning.

And we are sooooo happy about it!