Celia... One Year Later

Today marks one full year since the day we first met Celia in a courthouse in Ohio.  She was so sweet and quiet, in fact she didn't speak at all for about 2 hours.  Part of this I'm sure was a combination of shock, and awe, nerves, confusion and wonderment, but we had also been told by her first family that she was a very quiet child.  We didn't hear a word out of her until after we left the parking lot of the courthouse and asked her if she wanted to go to McDonald's for lunch.

 What we found out later was that she had not been prepped AT ALL for what was about to happen to her.  I had sent pictures of our house, cats, the twins and us for her to see, none of which had been shown to her.  All she was told was that she was going to go live with another family.  That's it.  We also realized that in her first family the rules must have been pretty stringent (military family) because she associated being a "good girl" with being quiet.  All the time.

 Oh what a difference a year has made.  Quiet would be the last word in the galaxy one would use to describe this child.  She learned pretty quickly that in our family we do loud, we do mistakes, we do emotional, and all of it is ok.  Do I miss that sweet, quiet little lady at times...YOU BET...but I know now that she wasn't allowed to be her true self in her previous placement.  I feel good about the fact that she has bloomed with us.

In the beginning the twins adored their little sister and wanted to help her with everything.  They doted on her and were so sweet.  Yeah that's LONG gone!  As it should be I suppose.  They are real siblings now, they fight and argue over everything and the older two take any opportunity to boss little one around.  Although I have an older half-sister, we did not have the pleasure of growing up together, so the drama of sisterly interactions is all new to me.  With my little brother it was totally different, always physical, rough and tumble, no drama.  With sisters, from the intel I've gathered, it's all of the above PLUS a huge dose of manipulation and drama.  Deep breaths.

I can see both sides of their stories.  Little sisters are annoying.  In fact, I told Caroline she could keep a journal of times that she wants to punch Celia in the face (along with how many punches each infraction is worth of course) and once Celia turns 18 she can go for it.  I don't feel at all guilty about this seeing as Caroline can't keep track of anything for longer than 23 minutes so the odds that she's maintain and know the whereabouts of such a journal are astronomical.  Listen folks, don't judge, if we didn't laugh over here, we'd be crying...a lot.

So, yes, Celia has bloomed into what I can only surmise to be a more true version of herself.  That being said, it's NOT all butterflies and rainbows over here.  She is still hurting.  She is angry, and I can't blame her.  Although she just turned 5 years old, emotionally she is functioning more on the level of a 2 year old.  I think this is because she wasn't allowed or able to process the raw emotions that come with being adopted in the first place, as well as just being a pain the a$$ toddler in her previous family.  Now add onto all of that a tremendous, rational, fear of abandonment, and you've got a very emotional little girl.

Her attachment to me began immediately upon meeting her in the courthouse.  She came and sat in my lap right away when I motioned to her to see if she'd want to.  We sat for a while while I showed her all of the pictures I had hoped he had already seen of her new sisters, home and cats.  It seemed to me that she had been craving a motherly connection for years and since her first adoptive mom wasn't able to bond with her, she just had not had that in her life for the past 3 years.

Her attachment to Mike is still a work in progress.  You see, she adored her first adoptive father and he adored her.  He was devastated in the courtroom, while mom had no affect, zero, it was eerie.  I promise to write more about her disruption story soon which will give you a little better picture of the background here.  Because she felt so connected with this former father, you can tell she struggles with the question "if I let this new dad into my heart, am I betraying the old one?".  Of course most of her anger and feelings of betraying are directed at this old dad as well, who isn't around to take it, so Mike, the poor unfortunate soul, becomes the target of all of it.   She's come a long way in a year though and heart healing takes time.

I'm going to keep it very real here folks.  There have been many a day that the twins have finally started grasping the concept of sleeping in and Celia's up at the crack of dawn and I ask myself "Why did we do this?  Things with the twins were JUST started to get a bit easier!  Why'd we have to rock the boat?!"  Also, although I'm only 33 years old, my soul is much older.  I wasn't cut out to do this toddler thing.  Ain't nobody got time for that.  I prefer to be around those who are able to think rationally.

Of course I wouldn't change it for the world.  God has taken us on such a crazy roller coaster the past year.  It has taught us so much about listening to Him and His will and plans for our lives, even when it doesn't seem to make any sense to anyone else.  I can see this little girl's heart healing right before my eyes and it's all God's doing.  Beauty from ashes.

Ignorance...At the Pediatrician's Office?!

Let me start by saying that moving across state lines with children who are on ADHD medication is a nightmare.  You have to have a paper script to take to the pharmacy because they are all controlled substances, so that also means you can't take a paper script from your Ohio doctor to a pharmacy in PA to get it filled.  UGH.  So, that being said, we had been anticipating this appointment today with our new pediatrician so we could finally establish a doctor who could give us the prescriptions my girls need.

I also want to point out that I have A LOT of experience with doctors and I know that a lot of the best doctors have a pretty crappy bed side manner.  I've come to accept that, however, I would think pediatricians would be the exception to the rule.  The doctor we saw today got an earful from Caroline so I don't think she'll ever make this same mistake again.  

She was entering in all of the information about Caroline and her health history.  She says "I know since she was adopted we will not have any family health history, but I want to get the names of all of the members of your family into the computer."  I gave her my name and Mike's name.  She then asked if Caroline had any siblings.  I responded, "She has a bio twin named Charlotte, and.." she interrupts me and says "Oh, ok so she counts as a real one."

OH. NO. SHE. DIDN'T.

To which Caroline responded, "What?  So what does that make my other sister?  Is she imaginary?  Is she fake?  No.  She's my REAL sister too!"

PROUD MAMA MOMENT.  It was the best response ever, because there's no way an adult could have gotten away with that sassy response, but oh from the mouths of babes!

"Of course she's real, you know what I mean, you just don't share genes." was her response.

I awaited Caroline's response, thinking for sure she'd argue that of course, none of them share "jeans" because they all wear different sizes, but, alas, she was able to contain herself for once.

I used this as an opportunity for grace, but I was pretty shocked that a pediatrician didn't know better and wasn't educated on the proper terminology.  I find it hard to believe that my family is the first adoptive family that has come through that office.  It's one thing to say that in front of the adult, but it was not ok to say that in front of my child.  Luckily we had JUST had a conversation about this because of an interaction Caroline had with a boy from our neighborhood last week (You can read that funny story here) so she had the perfect tools to respond appropriately.  I hope Caroline's candid response made this doctor realize that she needs to choose her words more carefully next time.

The Bratts are in town now, rural southeastern PA, and we're going to make a serious impression!

A SHELTER???? MEOW!

Ever since our twins joined our family back in 2010 we had lived in Medina, OH.  Mike and I both grew up in this small Cleveland suburb, so we knew a lot of people around town.  Anyone I didn't know personally was accosted with adorable photographs if they went shopping at the local greenhouse and farm where my mother worked.  Sometimes people would come up to us on the street and say, "Hey, aren't you Charlotte & Caroline?" even though I had never seen said person before in my life.  That could've been the result of the girls going to every VBS in town for two summers straight.  Don't judge, using Jesus as free respite isn't again the rules, we talked, He's cool with it.

This being said, the girls were never really approached with very many questions about their adoption.  Add in the fact that they were still young enough that kids didn't notice racial differences and that every November (Adoption Awareness Month) I have gone into their classrooms to share a book about adoption and answer all of the children's questions about it, there hadn't been much opportunity or need for them to stand on their own two feet and answer the tough questions alone.

Then we moved.  We moved to PA, outside of Philadelphia, to a town and a school even whiter and more rural than the one we came from.  The questions began before school even started.  This is the conversation I walked outside to in my backyard:

"A SHELTER????  You mean an orphanage?  Yes, I used to live in an orphanage in Africa, NOT in a shelter.  What do you think I am?  A cat?  MEOW!!!"  I stood back trying not to wet my pants.  I wanted to see where this was going to go next.  

The boy and Caroline both laughed.  Then he said "So your real mom just left you there?"  Caroline responded with an annoyed tone, clearly wanting to get back to the game they were just in the middle of, "Yeah, sure.  Let's play."

I swooped and and made some politically correct statement that their birth mother was too poor to take care of them so she made the loving choice to allow another family to take care of them.  Then I came inside.  I thought about what I needed to say as a follow up to this interaction.

Once she came inside for the night I told her how proud I was of her.  I liked how she made it silly so that he didn't feel dumb.  It is likely that she is the first adopted child he has ever met and he was using the vocabulary that he was familiar with when it comes to adoption, albeit pet adoption.  She has such great comedic timing that I knew the humorous approach would be her strength.  I then gave her suggestions about how to better answer his question about her "real mom".  "Is my mom imaginary?  I'm pretty sure she's real.  I think you mean by birth mom."  These were my suggestions on how to handle it in a humorous way while still educating him on the correct vocabulary.  

We then talked about how much of her story she wants to share.  I reminded her that her story is private and it is nobody's business how she came to be adopted.  She can share what she feels comfortable with, and we went through a few different levels of sharing information.  I want to empower my girls.  I don't want there to be any shame with their stories, and one day I'd love for them to be able to use their story to share God with others by telling them how He has worked in their lives.  Baby steps.

In the meantime we will continue to keep an open dialogue about how to handle the tough questions. And don't worry, if the stories are funny, you'll be sure to hear all about it!