Climbing (NOT Moving) Mountains

Gotcha Day- May 30th, 2008

The picture above was taken in the orphanage in Russia last year, just minutes before we took Caleb into our custody. You can clearly tell in this picture that C did not yet understand that we were going to take him away. He thought it was fun to get dressed in his very own clothes and play with his balloon (one of the caregivers gave him a balloon to keep as she was saying goodbye to him). Just after this picture was taken, we went into the director's office to thank her and say goodbye. Galina is an amazing woman, with smiling eyes and a compassionate smile. We could tell in all of our interactions with her that she loves the children in her care a great deal, so it was really hard to know just how to thank her for all she did for our son. There really are no adequate words... I still think of her and pray for her everyday, and C still talks about her.

While we were in the director's office, she played with C's hair and kissed him goodbye, while telling him goodbye in Russian. As she was doing this, I saw the look of happiness on C's face quickly turn to deep worry and panic. He started to wiggle wildly in my arms, trying to get away and stop what he seemed to know was about to happen. At this moment, I knew HE KNEW. Maybe he didn't understand everything, but he knew what Galina was saying. I knew there was no way he could truly understand, but I so desperately wished he could. At that moment, he was getting a forever family, something all children need and something he had never physically had. What an amazing moment! But to C, all it meant was that he was going away from the only home he had ever known with some nice people who spoke in some crazy way he didn't understand. On top of that, we were telling him that we were going for a ride in a car. At that point in time, he had no memory of ever doing such a thing, since the last time he was in a car was when he was just a few weeks old. As far as he was concerned, cars were for other people to ride in and for him to watch out the window of the orphanage.

Shortly after saying goodbye to the director, we went outside to the waiting van and stood in front of the orphanage to have our picture taken. Of course, we were beyond thrilled to finally be able to care for our son... to finally be able to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him how much we love him. I had yearned for that. I had cried rivers of tears for that. But at the same time, my heart was just breaking. I knew my son had just begun a mourning period and my mommy heart wanted to take all of the fear away... not just the fear he was feeling right then, but all of the fear I knew was still to come.

Gotcha Day 2008- Outside the orphanage

Once we got back to the hotel in Krasnoyarsk that day, C began the task of trying to make sense of what was happening and adjusting to his new surroundings. He was excited, of course, and really loved playing with us and exploring. He also loved eating dinner with us. As soon as that was done and he began to get tired, however, he began to cry and restlessly pace the hotel room. Every few minutes, he would go to the door and open it, saying "edom (let's go), edom!", with an urgency in his voice. We would then have to shut the door and try to distract him from leaving, which just made him cry and become even more determined to get his point across. this went on for about 2 hours. It was clear to us that he was saying, "O.K. guys, it's been fun, but I'm ready to go home now". Nothing comforted him... in fact, he didn't even want to be touched. We finally decided to help C to end his misery and put him to bed. As soon as I picked C up and shut the bedroom door, he started screaming. He screamed and fought with all his might for what seemed an eternity, all the while screaming, "edom!". I held C the entire time and whispered, "Don't be scared, Mama's here" and "I love you" in Russian. The rest of the time, I silently prayed for him. After about 10 minutes, I couldn't hold it in any longer and I began to cry. We cried together for about 10 or 15 minutes more, Caleb and I. Finally C fell asleep, a sweet relief for us both.

Caleb, sweaty and asleep on Gotcha Day

That was one year ago. C and I have cried together too many times to count since then. I learned that day that living for the first 2 years of life without a family can leave so much more of an impact than I had ever imagined. The orphanage may not be something we would have ever considered a home, but it was home to our son for 2 years... and he preferred that home and the way things were done there over our home and the way we do things most of the time in our early days together. Eating, playing, sleeping, talking, touching (or lack of touching)... it's all so very different. I just assumed C would naturally blend into our family. Despite all the reading I had done and all of the pre-adoption workshops we had attended, I still didn't understand that helping C to adapt to our family would include a LOT of tears and countless nights of feeling like the worst mommy in the world because I couldn't comfort my son.

I tell this story because it is REAL. My account is how it really happened. Not that it happens that way for all families... it doesn't. But I am telling the story because for some, this IS how it happens. And if anyone reads this and identifies with it, I want you to know 2 things:

First of all, you are NOT alone.

And secondly, get on your knees and don't give up. God will lift you and your child up and carry you through to healing, though the healing may not come as quickly as you had hoped / expected and it may not look exactly as you had envisioned.

God has moved mountains for us. He has expected us to climb many others. He has woven us together as a family. He has changed our hearts forever. He has given us a deep love and concern for ALL orphans. I wanted it to happen right away. I wanted it to happen without struggle. I wanted all of the mountains to move out of our way.

That was not God's plan.

Now I see that His plan could have not been more perfect.