‘What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men …… That is what love looks like.’ - St. Augustine

Tuesday, August 05, 2014

Life is Beautiful (Latvian Version)

Sometimes life is so wonderful you find it impossible to articulate the joy to anyone. This week is one of those times:

Three out of four siblings reunited. They live in three different countries and yet 'the fates' aligned for them all to spend a beautiful, other-wordly day together. If you need proof of God's existence, I have plenty. Just ask :)

Friday, July 25, 2014

Tilly's World

Tilly has adjusted beautifully. It's a joy to watch her learn to be a part of a family, to accept being loved and to settle in to her new role as a beloved 'forever' daughter. I hadn't anticipated it being this easy of a transition. Not to say there aren't moments of hurt or trauma rearing its ugly head - of course there are; older child adoption is not an easy road for the child or parent. But, on the whole, she is adjusting to family life far more quickly and easily than Nastia did. 

The photo above is of her in a play she recently appeared in. She played 'a beautiful milkmaid', and she loved it. I think her favorite part may have been just the chance to wear make-up.. but either way, she had a wonderful time.

In the fall she will start third grade and so we have started the preparations - cleaning out closets, sifting through clothes to see what still fits, organizing her room, making lists of school supplies to purchase. It's been a great time of bonding. Nastia is currently in Russia with her sister, and I had the week off from work, so it's been a nice break from the crazy-busy summer Shakespeare schedule!

The two of us fly to Latvia next week to complete the immigration requirements of her adoption. Her biggest concern is whether she'll have to get any booster shots while there. My biggest worry is fitting in all that we have to do while there. Aside from all the appointments that are part of the immigration requirements, we also want to spend time with her foster family, her biological sister who will be in Riga that week, AND time with her little brother Toms and his new family. It's alot to cover in 7 days.

The other night as we fell asleep, Tilly counted all her family members. It was a long process and we both marvelled at our incredible luck at having such a huge, international family now. She counted 5 mothers and an inconceivable amount of siblings. She of course considers Anya and all of Nastia's 16 other siblings hers, plus her little brother's new siblings, her bio-sisters in England, her bio-sisters new little half-sister, and anyone else she could find related to her by marriage or adoption. It was very sweet. And we are so fortunate that most of these families feel the same way - even Toms' new family sees us as extended family, and we gladly  accept the role:)

God has been so good to us. I may be in worse financial shape than I've ever been in since college, but in every other area we are thriving and full of joy. Plus I know the financial issue is temporary - it's just likely a year or two to recover from these adoption costs. Nastia also received so many scholarships and grants for college that I gratefully only have to pay a little over $2500 this year. (And thankfully I can pay monthly!) She even gets to live on campus  in a dorm - her dream! Matilda will be at the school behind our house - a 2 minute walk at best. And I'll be back at work in the schools starting in October.

Thank you to all the people who have loved and cared for us these many years - Christian friends who prayed, Catholic friends who said so many rosaries, Buddhist friends who chanted, T.M. friends who meditated, and all kinds of other friends who thought of us, held us up, sent us words of encouragement, walked us through hard times. It feels like Tilly is the final piece of a puzzle I have longed to complete for a decade or more. We can now focus on the normal things families focus on, and also work on getting Anya home and being one big happy family under one roof. I feel immense gratitude to have reached this time of celebration and peace in our lives, but I'm also grateful in the struggles, too. Each joy and hurt  we experience is part of this incredible tapestry we weave in living this human life. Thank you for stitching it together with us!

Tilly's headshot, which she loved!

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

She's Mine and She's Home Forever!

PHEW that was a long wait! I had to close my blog in January due to the restrictions during the adoption process. I just knew I'd slip up and post something that could jeopardize the adoption if I didnt just close it altogether (ADD is cruel that way. You have no 'hall monitor' in your head to keep you in line.) But…. I did it! I survived 6 months without cheating and posting…and now the adoption is finalized and I can introduce you to…

Tilly! Home for Good!

I'll likely even take this post down in a few weeks. I'm toying with the idea of starting a new blog that is more private. That way when Tilly gets a little older I wont have to highly edit my posts like I did when Nastia got older. Anyway, I'm still trying to figure that out. So we'll see.

But for now, things are going very well. Yesterday was our official adoption day, after the mandatory waiting period. I had flown to Latvia alone in Mid-May for three days for the final court hearing. We will still head back to Latvia one final time this summer for immigration requirements, but the adoption itself is FINI!

Welcome to our family, Tilly. We love you so very much!

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

If You Wait, The Blessings Come

Matilda at sunset. Photo credit: Maeve Harrington

I'm not known for painting rosy pictures. I try to be as honest as I can here, all the time. If my over-arching goal is to help other adoptive parents, I don't have the right to be anything BUT brutally honest. And so, sometimes, I avoid this blog because things are tough and I feel I don't have any words of wisdom to share. Sometimes I have to wait till I see the light.

We've been home one month now, and it has been overwhelming, scary, confusing, frustrating, exhausting, and downright yucky. It didn't help that I got horribly sick right after Christmas and didn't get better for 24 days. 24 days of fever, coughing, lying in bed, wishing I could die. Yes, it felt that bad. And the fact that it came on the heels of our arrival home felt like a slap in the face. The first month was going to be hard enough - why did I have to feel like I was on my deathbed on top of that? So, yes, I had some days where I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. I couldn't even communicate with anyone, because my voice was gone. If it weren't for my neighbor pinch hitting for me, I don't know what I would have done. She was a lifesaver. She watched Matilda during the day, took her to her swimming classes, went food shopping for us, and the list goes on. I am grateful in ways only other moms could understand!

But now, the light emerges. The fever gone, the coughing subsided. I reenter the land of the living, and - despite my guilt - Matilda has not only survived this challenging month, but she's thrived. In some ways, sickness intensifies the bonding. She and Nastia had to rely on each other for everything, because I was incapacitated. There were some ugly fights, but for the most part, I watched my girls transform into sisters. There were sleepovers, there were baking marathons, and igloo-building snowy afternoons. There were tearful outpourings of grief, and a big sister comforting the little one feeling so lost. It was a month of mountainous highs and heartbreaking lows, emotionally speaking - for both girls - and I watched most of it unfold in tiny slivers from the open door to my bedroom, as I lay there waiting for healing to come.

Last night I was finally feeling well enough to get some bills paid and emails returned. As I sat at my computer, I heard squeals of laughter from upstairs. After a good twenty minutes, my curiosity got the best of me and I headed up. In the bathroom I found two girls in swimsuits, huddled in the tub, covered in a million colorful balls of swirling water. They had filled the tub with these:

Rainbow braindrops

And they were having the time of their lives 'swimming' in this 3D rainbow. I stayed and watched for awhile, but then left them to their 'work' -- and two hours later they were still there. At 10pm, they emerged like prunes from their watery playground, only to move the playing into Nastia's room - where they laughed and laughed until well after midnight, cuddled up together in a tight nest of giggles and squeals. I interrupted their play just long enough to go in and say their prayers with them. Matilda started:

'God? Thanks for everything...thanks for my Mom and my sister. Thanks for the snow and for our animals...thanks for food and Grammy....and please send angels to every single person in the whole world and help them.'

Then Nastia added, " Yeah, thanks for everything, God.'

I'm feeling very blessed.

Sunday, December 29, 2013

A Beginning

Matilda, Queen of Iceland. 
We are home. It was a long, eventful journey back - including an unexpected visit to Iceland for two days - but we are home.

I wish I knew where to start or how to articulate all that has transpired this week, but I feel woefully inadequate to the task. It still doesn't feel real in many ways, and I think that is true not only for me, but Matilda and Nastia as well. (Note: I checked. and it is kosher for me to post Matilda's name, because it is not her birth name. Matilda is the new name she chose for herself - new life, new name.)

I cannot show her face yet, but the photo at right captures her personality quite well even without her face showing. She is, indeed, an adventurer, a conqueror, and a brave climber of mountains - literal and figurative. This gorgeous shot was taken in Iceland last Saturday, just before their 3pm sunset. No filters , no fancy camera - just my iphone and the mysteriously luminous Icelandic sky. Immediately this photo felt iconic in light of her journey - a journey to a new home, a new land, a new life. And there she stands, vigilant yet hopeful, leaning into her own future.

When we first learned of our unexpected layover in The Land of Ice, I was disappointed, but Matilda was downright despairing. No amount of spin or reworking of the storyline would lift her out of that state of desolation. She was firm, her stake irrevocably thrust into the heart of her own misery. But as time passed, I started to see that this delay was anything but disappointing, random or ill-favored. It was a gift and a blessing of stillness before the onslaught of our new life.

We arrived in darkness, but the morning revealed a place of unspeakable beauty and calm. We walked for hours on end. We drank in the brilliant skies and the mysterious light that fell like a tender offering on everything.

Even the landscape buzzing past us on the bus that day was magical...

The place felt at once familiar and foreign. We hiked hills, walked long roads of ice, and travelled into town, where Leif Erikkson stood guard.

The whole accidental interruption felt anything but accidental. It felt like Grace.

The sky, the sea, the glaciers and mountains.

The horizon of ice and snow.

The dark night laced with a billion snowflake-stars.

The people we met. The conversations.

The immense silence...

It felt like the whole universe had paused. 

And just like that, it was over and we were back in time again. We were back on a plane, headed to Boston, and our blessed 'pause' dissolved into the mysterious enchantment from which it came.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

All is Well, and We're Headed Home

I wish very much that I had had time to write while here, but it was just not to be. Being a single mom means there is no tag-teaming during an adoption. And with the rules of her country, I had to stay here an entire month. That meant a month in one small hotel room, together 24/7, with no break from one another except brief stints in the bathroom each day (if I was lucky.) It is obvious that if we both were able to survive this imposed semi-imprisonment together, we can survive anything the future holds.

I can't say much publicly yet, but I will say this: Latvian adoption is infinitely more humane a process than Russian adoption. Everything from the social workers to the orphan court staff, to any and all Latvian officials, to Embassy staff, to the attorneys and other supports were nothing short of kind, honest, helpful, understanding, and, shockingly humane. I say shockingly because, after having suffered through three long and painful adoptions in Russia (only one successful), I came to expect and anticipate that international adoption was and would always be frustrating, unjust, fraught with dishonest dealings and misunderstandings, tyranny, abuse of power, and horrifically inhumane treatment - for the child and the parent.

I'm so glad I was wrong.

Seeing how Latvia handles and cares for its' children makes me even more angry about Putin and his many hundreds of government minions across Russia. My anger is so immense for this man, my outrage over his mistreatment of his country's children so vast, that it often keeps me up at night still, going on nine years. I could not possibly put a number on the prayers I've prayed and tears I've wept for Russia's children, and yet even one prayer or one tear is still one more than Putin has ever prayed or shed for them.

This time in Latvia has been an incredible blessing, even though I fought that blessing for the past four weeks! Being away from Nastia was excruciatingly painful. I feel so awful for my poor mother who had to endure one of the most tearful outpourings of grief I've ever experienced, and while enduring the world's worst skype connection, no less.  I missed Nastia so badly one day, that I honestly contemplated just getting on a plane and risking losing this adoption. I know that may sound extreme, but I'd rather be honest, so that other moms about to walk this path know how hard it can be. Being away from your children for that long is worse than torture. And I will never do it again.

Thankfully, the many prayers of friends and my mom, and the many words of support from the same, got me through that dark night. Nastia, experiencing her own terrible darkness at home, survived, too. And I'll venture to say now that we are both likely the stronger for having walked through it.

M is doing very well. She is grieving the loss of her foster family very hard, but that is good. It means she was strongly attached to them and bodes well for all her relationships in the future. She is still unable to call me 'Mom' more than maybe three or four times a week - but we are getting there. She is a fascinating little girl - more clever than I imagined, powerfully strong-willed, sensitive to a fault, curious about everything, fun-loving, gentle hearted and wanting to save every homeless animal and person she comes across. She is very very moody, but fairly quick to recover. She loves God passionately, and my favorite part of every day is when she stretches out her hand in the dark to find mine, and says her prayers aloud:

'God? It's me, M. Thank you for all the good things you gave to me today.I wanted to ask you some favors. Please send angels to every animal and person in the world who is alone or hungry or hurt or has no home. Send Special angels to [fostermom], [half-sisters], [bio-mom], [little brother in orphanage], Nastia, my new mom, Grammy, Emily, LeeAnne, Sarah and Maeve. Please help everyone in the world to feel as happy as I am. And say hi to My Dad, Keri's Dad, and Nastia's Dad in heaven. Amen.'

This is her prayer every night, with few changes. The fact that a little girl who has experienced so much trauma and loss in her little life can voice such a prayer is mind-boggling to me. And yet, it is her prayer, and I am so grateful she can feel and speak it.

We are leaving in a few days. We'll be home just in time for Christmas, and none too soon! I'll be able to post more once home, since I might finally get a moment to myself!  I'll try to find some photos to post below.

Merry Christmas, Everyone.

Oh, and P.S: Happy 110th Birthday to my Grammy, Margaret Sweeney Howard! I hope you're enjoying the fascinating show playing out here in your family, below, from your perfect vantage point in Heaven. I love you.

M in Old Riga, before the snow.

Christmas Market in Old Riga

The Cathedral and Christmas Market

Santa takes a break for some mulled wine.

Saturday, December 07, 2013

Just Not Enough Time

View from our table at our favorite cafe, KID.
It's been nearly impossible to blog while here. I had high hopes of posting daily, but Matilda is a 24/7 kind of girl. She is not one to play on her own, read on her own, even watch a movie on her own. And she has great difficulty falling asleep at night, so by the time she actually falls asleep, I am completely spent myself. I hope I remember some of this trip once home. It's been very intense and nonstop, with little to no reflection time. I fall asleep mid-prayers every night. And hit the ground running when she wakes every morning.

Matilda is doing well. Highs and lows, but nothing unexpected. I am trying to keep to a routine, which is hard for this very ADD personality of mine. but I'm doing ok with a daily schedule, and keeping her as busy as possible. We have fed more ducks, walked more streets and built more snowmen than anyone else in Latvia, I'm sure. But it's nice to be outside all the time. It's been snowing for days so its very beautiful. Riga is an exceptionally beautiful city.

The hardest part of this trip has been being away from Nastia. Although she had anticipated taking this as a chance to prove her independence and maturity, it did not turn out that way. She has taken my absence much harder than I ever thought possible. She stopped going to school, stopped answering her phone so no one (including me) could reach her, and pretty much isolated after her brief stint at my cousin's house. I spent yesterday in tears most of the day when I couldn't reach her for hours - after her school had called and told me she had signed herself out after attending a mere 20 minutes. Then her teacher emailed me and expressed her concern, too, after failing to convince her to stay. The stakes are high - she will not graduate if she misses many more days. When I would speak to her on Skype she said she was 'too sad' to handle school. And she would tell me how depressed she was and that she didnt care about anything anymore. And the worst part is she puts on this stalwart, happy facade for everyone who stops by or speaks to her. Everyone thought she was doing fine, while she is telling me she is too depressed to do anything while I'm not there.

My guess is that my being away triggered some very old abandonment issues with her birth mom. We've known these were not resolved at all because she still has terrible nightmares of being abandoned even after 8 years home. And this trip came SO suddenly. One day I'm told I'll be lucky to get here in January, and the next moment I'm being asked if I can get here in 48 hours. I do know this: I will never ever ever go away from my daughter for such a long trip until she is much much older emotionally. I can see it has hurt her heart very much. And mine, too.

Matilda is good. The testing behavior is tough, and the incessant talking back and rude tone she uses with me - but I know she is going through her own deep grief, too. I try to redirect her quickly and gently and then move on to fun activities. If it gets really bad, I tell her it looks like she needs some rest time back at our room for awhile. And then we read books or watch a movie. 

It's hard to establish rules with a child who has lived in many different environments. It's hard to establish your role as parent when your new child detests having help from others. But this was just as it was for Nastia. Been there/done that. It's just not that fun - or easy even if you've been down that road before. I'll be glad to be home so we can really establish a routine and I can more easily encourage her reliance on me. for now it is a 24/7 test of wills and power play.

More when I can. The little blonde tornado of energy is out of the bathroom.

Getting my daily Latvian lesson from M at our favorite cafe.