Irony

I have a LOT of catching up to do.  I keep intending to start a great plan of how to rewind way back and update systematically.  Then I just don't.

So today's post may not make much sense, totally out of the context of our life in Wade World since...February?  But here goes...

Miranda, my big girl, is currently in the midst of a Child Development class assignment/project -

Meet David!

My robot grand-baby for two nights and three days

Little David can only receive "care" from his mommy.  Her mommy bracelet must be scanned across him before he can be fed, changed, or comforted.  She will loose points off her final grade if he cries for more than two minutes.  David is her constant companion.  He gets an honored seat at the dinner table right next to his mommy (poor Keziah got booted to Caleb's empty chair).  He even gets remotely turned off and hidden in a protected location while she is at marching band practice (talk about a fantastic babysitter option).

Miranda and I even had our first Mommy vs. Grandma disagreement!  Note - David is not wearing any pants in the photo.  New Mommy Miranda decided it was MUCH easier to leave off the poor baby's pants because it made diaper changing faster.  Uhm...PUT SOME CLOTHES ON THAT BABY!!!  As a mama to two Chinese princesses which required travel in China and being subjected to "Clothing Police" grandmas in China, I couldn't bear to see even a plastic grand-baby not dressed properly.  Then my daughter attempted to argue that I had allowed my babies to be diaper-only-clad!  Don't even try that one!!!!  Yes, I often choose outfits that I preferred because of easier diaper access, but I also dressed my precious babies in all those grandparent gifted outfits that were majorly time consuming.  There may be a few pictures of babies in diapers only, but most of those were to document hives as allergic reactions or cute fun family times (yes, the classic "Naked Baby Dance" with a diaper on was photo op/memorable moment worthy).

So by now you are probably scratching your head wondering, "Where does the title 'Irony' fit into this tale?"

Two Princesses

Part of what is missing from my blog postings, and part of the reason I haven't been posting much, is the fact that we have been working with an adoption and attachment therapist with both girls.

Keziah and Peiwu (oh yeah...she changed her name from "Hadassah" back to her Chinese name "Peiwu" about two months ago) are very different!  Their stories, their histories, their personalities, etc., etc. are all very different!  So are their emotional needs, their adoption life journey, and their attachment processes.

Now neither of our girls has what would be defined as a severe attachment issue or RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder).  However, after Peiwu came home, we not only saw some real and frightening issues with Peiwu, but we also began to see smaller issues with Keziah.  Most things we observed most other people missed or thought were just really "cute."  Thankfully though, we really had done all that pre-adoption required reading and really had paid attention to all the warnings in all the required pre-adoption coursework we had to complete.  I'm also incredibly grateful to our Social Worker for her referral to our counselor.  YES, we asked for one.  And YES, we were HONEST about our challenges.

So here is the ironic part for me today...

At home, my 16-year-old daughter is giving a plastic-coated, baby-shaped computer her undivided attention, caring for a robot and meeting all its "needs."  While I am at my wit's end!!!

Why?

Because my two youngest daughters' didn't receive the same quality of care that robo-baby is getting.  My little princesses cried for more than two minutes.  Their diapers weren't changed immediately.  They weren't picked-up and cuddled just because they longed for nurture, love, and connection.

God has this beautiful, perfect plan within our sin-stained world to paint a picture of His love for each of us through the love and nurture He planned for us to receive from our parents.  Every cuddle, every kiss, every feeding, every diaper changed, and every tear dried builds our ability to receive love and trust in our parents and ultimately God.

My little girls are missing some of these valuable pieces in their hearts and lives.

In so many ways, Peiwu is more affected than Keziah.  Her behaviors and development are frozen in time, frozen back in time at key developmental stages where her needs were unmet.  Dates on calendar pages say my daughter is eight-years-old, but every day I'm parenting an infant or toddler trapped inside.  In so many ways, she begs through her behavior to receive care like an baby - feed me, coach every bite and drink I take, and her toilet issues.  In other ways, she can throw the best and biggest and longest two-year-old tantrum/fit you have ever seen.  And she's got endurance!  She can maintain a fit for over an hour!  Full throttle kicking and screaming...any where...for any reason!!!  Oh and then I haven't even touched on her many sensory issues!  (Lock a baby away in an institution, and they miss out on so many things we take for granted - sights, sounds, light, tastes, smells, textures.)  Peiwu HATES loud noises!!!  Do you know how LOUD public toilet flushing is?  Do you have any idea how many times I walk out of public bathrooms with dripping wet hands because she can't tolerate the sound of those hand blow dryers?

The point of this post?  Mostly...just venting!

However, it also is so that I can keep it real.  Adoption, especially older child adoption, is hard...really hard.  Warm-fuzzy, made-for-TV moments of that precious child, all dressed in white, running into the arms of his/her loving family...and CUT!...end of story...UHM...that is NOT reality!!!

BUT!   These are my precious, little girls!  They are soooooooo worth it!

I have SIX amazing kiddos!

Each and every one of them is exhausting and challenging.  They grow me and stretch me beyond my capacity.  They drive me to my knees in prayer and with tears, begging my Father God for His strength because this IS MORE than I can handle on my own.