It’s midnight, and I’m sitting in Evangeline’s room in a tiny toddler chair beside her bed.
There’s so much to do to prepare. We were at CHOP today for Evangeline’s pre-op visit for the surgery on her feet that is scheduled for January 3.
I’m tired, but I need to be here. I need to sit by her side and reassure her that she is safe and that I’m here to stay.
Last night, Evangeline woke up with a nightmare. Tonight she fell asleep during our family reading time, and Mark carried her up to bed.
A little while later, I heard her crying. Her little body was wrenching from her sobs.
She doesn’t have enough words yet to adequately express what she is feeling, and since she never went to school, she doesn’t know enough characters to have much success with the translator either.
She says she is scared.
Is it fear? Grief? Sadness?
Her tiny body is rigid and shaking.
I tell her she is safe here, that it will be okay, but they are just words.
My mind is filled with so many questions. I asked her if she misses the children at the orphanage, or a nanny. She said no.
I wonder. How can that be? How can she live in an orphanage for ten years and never bond with anyone other than her little friend Emily?
How I long for more language. I long to hear about her life before us.
Since she has been with us, she has grown so much. She has gained about five lbs. That is huge for someone who is only four feet tall. She has been catapulted into puberty as a result of the increased nutrition and the security that comes from having a family.
Her shoulders have grown and broadened so much, and her torso is thicker, but her legs and feet are as tiny as ever. The doctor said above the deformity in her spine she will be normal.
She seems bright and perky during the day, but she needs constant attention and supervision. She is dangerously impulsive and quick.
She is so much like a little girl most of the time, but then there are moments when I see how capable she is.
She is such a wounded little girl, physically and emotionally and has born so much in her young life.
So here I sit, trying to fill her cup, to love away the years of hurt.
Precious Lord, come and fill our sweet girl with Your presence.
Come, and fill her cup as only You can.