Yesterday I faced my fears and shared the darkest depravity of my feelings. I shared that dark place inside that is not pretty. The part inside that says, “No, Lord. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t how I want to spend my days.”
Your responses and private messages have encouraged me and reminded me that we are indeed supported by an enormous group of people who have walked this road before us. Indeed, we have never been less alone.
We are supported by so many families who have never walked this path, yet have chosen to stand beside us and pray for our family.
Your overwhelming support is a poignant reminder to me that our feelings are not reality. Only God and His truth matters. Even the circumstance are nothing to Him. They are moments in time that can change as swiftly as our feelings can.
Yesterday I shared the lows.
Today I want to share the light that is still burning brightly at the end of the tunnel.
I honestly believe that there is so much more inside Eliza then she has shown us so far. There are the letters she wrote us before we traveled to China. You can read those letters here, here and here.
I have really questioned whether Eliza wrote those letters, but I now believe she must have. She is locked in a world of something that limits her enormously, but I have yet to be able to identify it. She is an enigma. In many ways she presents as younger than our Olivia who is three. The Dr. in the adoption clinic who is saying that with microcephalus as severe as Eliza’s is, it would be far more unlikely for her not to be severely developmentally disabled than it would be for her to be, is also saying she is at a loss and they just do not see cases like hers.
I have written that this isn’t what I wanted, but I have not really shared that I know exactly why God chose me to be Eliza’s mother.
For the ten years of my short lived career in Psychology, I worked in two Developmental Centers as a therapist in the Behavior Modification field. I have written thousands of behavior modification programs for children and adults living in an institutional and group home setting. I have worked side by side with Psychiatrists as they evaluated and medicated patients. I have spent hours on the floor holding and loving these wonderful people who are among the world’s most abused, neglected and misunderstood.
I have watched people destroy their bodies with self injurious behavior as they craved human touch and longed to somehow satisfy the deep yearning inside themselves.
I loved a little girl with severe microcephalus. We called her Luv. Even in those very early days of my adulthood, I longed to bring her home to live with me. That was not to be.
Then, in my adult years, I learned even more about the brain and it’s amazing ability to rebuild itself as we helped our oldest son develop his brain as we worked to overcome Aspergers in his life.
I studied the works of Glenn Doman, and the miraculous neuroplasticity of the brain.
I have met many children whose lives have been changed because their families didn’t accept the prognosis’s of the traditional medical field, and believed God for more.
On top of all of that, I parented all of my children with an attachment based style of parenting which is exactly what adopted children need.
I know why God chose me.
I know how to help Eliza.
What I don’t know yet is how to physically and financially do all that I know I need to do to help her.
But God knows.
He will finish what He started.
A few people very close to me have made comments to imply that perhaps we should not have adopted.
Please know I do not believe that, not even for a moment. That thought has never even entered my mind.
I was created to walk this road.
All of my life has been preparing me to love and parent Eliza and Evangeline.
And I will leave you with this very precious moment with Evangeline.
Last night, Evangeline was asking me why I rocked Eliza every day.
I told her I rocked her because when Eliza was a baby, she needed her mommy to rock her, but she wasn’t there.
Sadness washed over Evangeline’s face, and she said, “I can’t see their faces.”
Aware of this precious moment that was unfolding before me, I said, “You can’t see your mommy and Daddy’s faces?”
Soberly, Evangeline responded, “No, I can’t see their faces.”
Then she continued, “Mommy, in China, when babies are not good, they put them down.” And she motioned to the floor. “Police take them to orphanage.”
Horrified to hear her refer to babies as bad, I asked, “What do you mean when babies are not good?”
“Like me. Like Eliza.”
There are just no words to adequately describe the horror and deprivation that these children have grown up with. Our minds can’t comprehend their loss and their pain. Loving them is sometimes a very lonely and difficult road, but it is a road we must walk.