Vigilance

VIG-I-LANT: alertly watchful especially to avoid danger

VIG-I-LANCE: 1. the act, state or quality of     being vigilant

            2. the abnormal state or condition of being unable to sleep 

I've been wanting to share about vigilance for a long time now.  It's the perfect word to describe my E; the way he carries himself throughout the day, how he appears when he with a group or even his family, and absolutely how he looks when he is "sleeping" at night.

We've been especially vigilant lately because we've had a birthday, Thanksgiving and now the holiday season.  The fun Christmas activities, changes in routine and even sounds, smells and sights send lots of little ones into an oblivion.  For my E, all the "fun" equates to lousy RAD behavior, lack of sleep, and crazy uncoordinated large motor skills (he fell down a flight of stairs TWICE Saturday, he fell UP THE STAIRS yesterday. Thank God he is made of rubber.).  

Hearing the word vigilant, I used to envision a poor teenage babysitter, late at night, getting prank calls and being hypersensitive to the creaks and moans of the house.  Or maybe the gal walking alone through an abandoned parking lot.  Then, about 2 years into living with it, I began to recognize that my son is  vigilant.  Sometimes it is to what everyone else in the room is putting in their mouth.  Other days, he's vigilant to every sentence that Ryan and I pass between us ("Mom! Wait! Did you just say that there will be whale at Sunday school tomorrow?").  It's super annoying and sad for us but for our boy, it has got to make him exhausted in general.  Think about how you feel at the end of a suspenseful movie.  The story has resolved and you naturally relax your muscles and exhale.  And feel pretty tired, right?  

The part that gets me is that my E is a kid.  He's never seen a horror movie.  He's never left alone and no one has left him out of anything in four years.  Yet still.  Before my E came home, he had the experiences and visceral emotions to shape him to be alert.  On standby.  Ready for fight or flight.  All the time.  Yuck.  How can that not break my heart?  

It's just a word, not a label.  A window into his actions, if you will.  So when you see my son in the coming days, give him some grace.  He's asking what you just drank because he wants a drink too.  If you hear him interrupting and pushing his way in, he doesn't want you to forget him.  When you see him rubbing his eyes with his fists and falling down all over the place, don't forget that last night he hit his head on the wall , wet the bed, then awoke before the sun.  

I am trying to remind myself of this too.  When I want to hit him for dumping water on Molly's friends or sneaking into the bathroom when I'm peeing, I will phone a friend for prayer.  This isn't his fault despite how long it has been.  As much as we tell him over and over and over again that he is home.  He has a family.  Forever.  There aren't words to reason away fear of being hurt, both physically and emotionally.  You can't rationalize with someone that has been wounded.  That's that whole "actions speak louder than words" thing.  

So I tried something new last night when I was tucking him in.  I made him repeat after me.

"My mommy and daddy love me."  Repeat. As he said the words, I squeezed him tight and prayed that God would deliver him now.

"No matter what I do, my family won't ever leave me." Repeat, kisses, hugs, pray. Repeat. 

"I'm not an orphan. I am a child of the one true King."  Repeat, hug, squeeze, pray. 

This is so good!

  My E has been back to some sleepless, wet nights.  He's coming home at the end of the day just worn.  I know that it takes every fiber of him to behave, to try to learn, to not do so many things that he's constantly tempted to do.  He is tired from trying so hard and it doesn't help that he isn't sleeping well.  Remember when you had a baby and between late afternoon and bedtime, it's witching hour? Too late for a nap but too early for bedtime? Yah, that's us.
  So we do our strict schedule and it helps.  Mostly, I really believe that God has softened my heart to him in many ways.  I just don't care anymore about a lot of stuff.  Ryan will roll his eyes at me because by 8 o'clock every night, E and I are arguing back and forth.  We both have to "have the last word."  I know my dad is laughing at this right now; this was always the reason I was grounded as a kid.  He gets that from me.
  Today was different.  Today, E came home, did his snack and his exercise and then-wait for it-he went and got his "sight words" and began writing.  It's Halloween, people!  Candy and lack of structure and routine!!  He asked me to help him write his sight words in 10 sentences.  There was no crying.  No quitting.  No whining or pretending to go to sleep.  No thumb sucking.  When he messed up, he crossed it out and started over again.  It was awesome.

  That is what we like to call evidence of God's grace.  

  I had been pretty frustrated.  We have a lot of stuff (mostly really good, see here) going on.  We have a dead beat renter squatter that owes us over a year's rent to our KS house.  I was bummed about that terrible mess.  At work, we've had an "intruder" (think guy with a automatic weapon roaming the halls of a clinic), super young teen moms, mentally ill patients.  Just ugly stuff that weighs on me.

  And then, BOOM.  God shows up again.  At my kitchen table in the form of sight words.  Reminding me of what He is doing in my son.  And in an orphanage in Kigali.  In the homes of 55 (!) families that are matched with kids.  What a blessed, insanely dramatic life we have here.

"WAY TO GO!"

This is a first!

     Friday Etienne got his first ever "Way to go!"  These are awarded by the teacher for either being respectful, responsible, safe or caring.  This was kind of a big deal (for obvious reasons).  Then, on the way home, he chucked it out the window.  Typical irony of our life.  We love small victories and funny stories.
     We had parent/teacher conferences tonight.  Cheering that we haven't had calls from the Principal this year.  Thankful that no parents have complained or threatened us (not exaggerating, true stories).  Bummed that E's poor teacher has to discuss a lot behavior drama with us.  Bummed that school is not his thing.  He is getting English Language Learning (ELL) again; she says that she can definitely identify some language barriers.  Still.  Etienne is also getting some supplemental reading.  These are services that I never would have imagined I would be so appreciative or rely upon.  They are essential for my son to learn.
     Rejoicing that she said "Some of the things he says amaze me.  There are times that he comprehends things beyond years.  It's like he's an old soul."  This brought tears to my eyes.  The only prayer that I have ever had for Etienne in public school was that people could see the real him; that his behaviors wouldn't hinder relationships or learning.  Ultimately, his classmates and the staff around him can see his loving heart and caring ways.
     I spent this morning in worship alone.  Reading scripture and listening to music.  Reflecting on how far God has brought our family and my heart.  I can't believe that the softness in my son's eyes, the way he leans into me when I am near him, or how in the past week alone we have been "lunch buddies" (packing the same lunch) and "work buddies," (doing home repair together!).  This is so much evidence of God's grace in our home, in E's healing and my heart.
     Etienne is back to having a difficult time sleeping at night.  This makes learning, behaving and functioning all day long a lot harder for our man.  We have totally compensated over the years as to how much rest we need, but our prayer for E is that he may rest well each night so that behaving and learning is a little easier during the day.
   

Well this is new.

   Crazy Tuesdays.  Ryan teaches at a junior college which leaves me shuttling everyone from point A to point B.  I met him at Etienne's football practice, dropped E off, then left to get Molly at her rehearsal.  An hour later, Molly, Zeke and I were taking a walk as Ryan and the other boys arrived home.  A few minutes later, Etienne ran to catch up with us, already in tears.  He is mad.  Apparently, flag football was "good."   We attempted to continue our walk but E was tearful and looking for a fight.  After bullying Zeke and being scolded, he was literally on the sidewalk having a full out temper tantrum.  The 68lb'r was screaming, kicking, punching and sobbing as I struggled to identify our trigger to the meltdown.  I let the other kids move on ahead, sat down on the sidewalk, and wrapped him in a full body hug.  Mostly to smother the screaming and avoid neighbors calling CPS.  We lay on the sidewalk until he could calm himself enough to insert a thumb in the mouth (don't judge, this is our self soothing to get calm), but he still couldn't walk without yelling and crying at me.  Eventually, I just picked him up and carried him the couple blocks home.  Ryan and I turned on some lullaby music, ran a warm bath and stuck him in there alone for a bit.
   Ten minutes of lullaby songs and lavender bath water later, Etienne was able to verbalize that he was really mad at me.  It was one of those moments where I had patience and compassion only by the grace of God because his fit, rage and tears had been off the chart.  But I didn't lose it and I wasn't faking it as I waited for an explanation.

"Mommy, I was mad at you that you didn't stay with me at my football practice.  You weren't with me."

     Throat swelling shut.  Eyes melting.  No words.  I wrapped him up in a towel and a hug.  We stayed that way a few minutes.  When I found words, I told him that maybe we could work on our emotions some more.  That maybe he was feeling afraid that I wasn't with him; and that maybe he felt sad when we were apart.  We made a plan that next time he feels this way, he will give me a hug and tell me that he had missed me.
     This is another big leap forward.  I am conditioned to the ridiculous melt downs and fits.  I understand the reasoning that my son feels abandoned and that he can't comprehend his feelings.  I am a RAD mom; it's how we roll.  What I am not used to is this progress, this stretching of his little heart.  But I am a quick learner.   I will take it.

Tuesday Topic: Sleep (or not)

     HOLY JOY!  Etienne has slept through the night five nights in a row!!!!!
     With dry diapers.  What?  In our world, this is God showing up big time.  This is big and beautiful and evidence of His grace.  This is an answered prayer.  This is a boy getting a very big boost in his confidence and this is 2 parents looking a little less zombie-like.  Five mornings of turning up "Say Hey" while we brush our teeth and dance around with praise.
     I blog about our lack of sleep a lot.  I consider myself to be somewhat of an expert at sleep depravity.  After all, most babies prefer sometime after 3 AM but before  AM to be born.  Between living with my entourage and catching babies, it's a topic I don't escape often.  This weekend, I was reminiscing (not fondly) with family about the days that Blake didn't sleep.  For years, he could function pleasantly on only 4 or 5 hours a night!  He was like the energizer bunny.  Ryan once set him in front of Sports Center,  as a 2 year old, at 11 PM.  He called it an "experiment," and at 4 AM, Ryan returned to Blake, tiny toddler with his eyes still glued to Sports Center (which just repeats itself every half hour all night).  I laugh to think it was like God was warming us up for our sleep deprivation in years to come.
     Etienne and Ezekiel came from the Home of Hope, in Kigali, Rwanda.  At the time of their adoption, there were just under 150 children in the orphanage and each our sons was in a room lined with rows and rows of tiny cribs.  Lying in one, a child was surrounded on 3 sides by other children.  They spent many, many hours in those cribs irregardless to whether they were tired or not.
     We took them home and our first mistake was forgetting those rows of "friends."  We tried to have Etienne share a room with Blake and we set a crib in our room, near our bed for Zeke.  Weeks and weeks went by with neither little man or parent sleeping.  As soon as we put ourselves in their shoes, we remembered that a bed or a big spacious crib would be lonely.  So our "3 year old" and our 18 month old shared a crib next to our bed, each swaddled with their feet touching end-to-end.  And it worked. For a bit.
     Zeke now sleeps fabulous.  We are still fumbling our way through new theories and tactics with Etienne.   One thing that we have always noticed with him is that he moves a lot in his sleep, he often sleeps with his hands clenched in fists and his large muscles contracted.  What's heartbreaking about this is that a lot of people-parents and professionals alike-see these same traits.  It is thought that children from an institutional background often don't learn self regulation, do not regularly get their needs met and are often in an over stimulated state of alert (think "I don't know if that noise is bad so I am gonna sit up here, ready to scream and run if I need to,").  It's awful what the world does to it's children.  Along with this, he wakes up a lot and then has difficulty falling back asleep.  Not fair, right?  Poor buddy.
     Here are some good resources for sleep issues:

•    The Center for Adoptive Medicine- http://adoptmed.org/topics/sleep-and-adoption.html
•     AdoptiveFamilies.com  
•    "The Connected Child," Karyn Purvis

     The good news is that God has got this.  As with most parenting, whether a "home grown" kid or not, a lot of what we do is trial and error.  I am thankful that E almost daily reminds me that His grace is sufficient because I am not.  Ultimately, our rest comes from God and not from sleep.  Even though sleep feels amazing.
     So many kiddos have sleep struggles along the way.  "Crying it out" isn't encouraged with children that our newly adopted, but I know some parents have had success with that.   Ryan and I totally jumped on the "Ferber" method train with Molly (mostly because she refused to snuggle and she was so loud when she slept!) while with Blake we honestly found that he liked a dresser drawer.  Desperate times, people, don't judge.
     Does "crying it out" seem harsh?  Can your child sleep better with you or without you?  What about co-sleeping (and how do you ever have another child?!).   I would love to hear how many parents have their adopted children in the room with them...or with another sibling.
   

I don't need an interpreter

     Etienne spoke French last night
     He hadn't done this, to my knowledge, in several months.  I went into the boy's room because Blake needed "retucked."  As I was turning to leave, Etienne started jabbering.  He had already been tossing and turning restlessly.  I lay down next to him and put his face in my hands.  He shook his head and continued jabbering in French.  He wasn't consciously awake and yet I could feel his unrest even after I left the room.
     The remainder of the night, we were uninterrupted but I could hear so much movement from their bed.  He called out again so I went to my son but he didn't respond, again lost in some other reality.  I tried to hold him but I don't think it mattered.  So I just prayed over him.  Later, he came into our room to use the restroom and take off his wet layers.  He didn't wake either Ryan or me.  We had previously praised him for the rare occasion that he did this but this morning, in my heart, I knew this praise needed to stop.  No matter how little sleep I get, my kid deserves help in this task.
    Lately, some stuff going down has been a harsh reminder of our boy's beginnings.  Behaviors that are a result of unlove.  Of hurt.  French is a beautiful language but I don't want it in any corner of Etienne's brain.  It is still a part of him that we can't quite reach.  It's a part that maybe I never will get to.
     It's easy to let this sadness fill me.  To let my tears flow for him.  It is also a comfort.  A  comfort that I do indeed love this child.  That I would jump in front of a train for him.  I couldn't always say that aloud.  That is evidence that God is filling in those gaps of my heart.  And hope in knowing that at some time, somehow, that same grace will reach those dark corners of French and hurt and uncertainty.

   

Resolutions (yada, yada, yada)

Welcome to 2013.
Whew.  I am not one for setting resolutions....I kind of think there is no time like the present to make a change.  That being said, I am contemplating fresh starts, new approaches...who am I kidding?
Resolutions:

• TOPIC TUESDAY: I want to hear from my readers and engage in lively discussions.  Thank you, Kylie! I am all for free speech and I wouldn't put myself out there the way I do if I was going to take every opinion personally.  So, coming next Tuesday, I will start posting a topic. 
• REFERENCES: I had debated moving to wordpress but losing my archive makes me sad...instead, I'm playing around with the format and creating more links/tabs to adoption and attachment stuff.
• BOOK CLUB: I would love your thoughts on this....reading a book only on adoption and attachment? On parenting? On the fiscal cliff?

  On that note, I still want my blog to be my blog.  There are a lot of adoption bloggers out there.  Lots of mama bloggers. Faith bloggers.  I suppose my blog has evolved into all three.  I'm still gonna share our stories and pieces of my heart; the good, the real and the in-between.
  How do you make a kid know love?  I suppose this has been my quest for some time.  The theme of so many actions I take. To make Etienne feel and know our love.  This is weighing on me today.
  Lately, we've had some good days.  We've also had some new, bad behaviors that I can't share because I want to honor my son's privacy. Last night, after some tough conversation, all three of his siblings were crying.  They were crying because they love him, they want him to be "normal," they want him with them for the long haul.  He heard and saw their tears but if he felt the love behind it, if he felt guilt or even satisfaction, he didn't show it.  All those tears were out of love for him.
  I am not sure if anything hurts me more than some of my children crying on behalf of my other child.  Truthfully, there is a little corner of my brain that whispers that this is my fault.  My children are grieving because of what we have done in this family.  But than God whispers in my ear and reminds me and I know once again that that's the Enemy tearing into my heart, making me doubt what is good and right.  There isn't a lot that is worse than feeling at cause for your child's pain; but it is worse to know that your child still doubts that he is loved, wanted and worth dying for.  That is worse.
  So my other hope for 2013 will be that this is the year.  The year that all my children know the depths of their Father's love for them.  That all four, all four, will believe in their core that they are worth dying for.  That someone did indeed die for them.  Because that, my friends, is a game changer.  I so want 2013 to be our  game changer.

Each kiddo painted their tree today with their thumbprints.  We live in a forest, at the top of a hill, so trees  (and those roots) are a tangible thing to associate family with.  Thank you, pinterest.