The parts that aren't easy

Well, we’ve just finished the ten days of IVs, had two days to breathe, and then this afternoon I get another call.  We have to bring her into the Children’s Hospital tomorrow morning for an ultra sound and some blood tests.  The appointment is at 8:30am and she cannot eat before she goes.  “What is this for?” I ask.  “They weren’t really clear, but I think it’s a normal check-up,” was the response. 

I’m trying to understand what’s happening in my heart, but there’s just something about this that is really unsettling me tonight.  Part of it is a culture clash I think.  This culture is fine with last minute announcements and schedule changes.  Americans like advance notice.  The fact that I have to go watch my hungry and crying daughter get stuck with needles in the morning instead of going for a run doesn’t exactly make me happy.  I would much rather stick to my original plan.

Part of it is that I feel out of control, and I like control.  Most moms know when their kids have doctor’s appointments and exactly what these appointments are for.  I’m told bring her to this place at this time, and I have very little idea what I’m getting into. 

Part of it is protective mothering coming out.  She was just stuck for ten days in a row, sometimes up to three times in one day.  Can’t the poor little girl have a break?!?  I hate seeing her in pain.  I know that some pain is necessary, especially if it’s for good (immunizations, for example).  But with this, I’m not the one making decisions and therefore I’m not entirely clear whether or not it is necessary and good.

Which brings me to the last point.  Probably what is most unsettling in all of this is that it’s such a reminder that she’s not officially ours yet.  We’re not the ones making decisions for her medical care because she’s not legally ours.  Prayerfully she will be soon.  But until then, I must endure all of this, because it’s the road that the Lord has taken us down. 

This road is filled with joy and absolutely worth it.  But it’s awfully hard sometimes too. 

It hurts...

It physically hurts her and it really hurts this momma's heart...

Part of the fostering contract is that we do not have decision-making power in our daughter's medical care until she's adopted.  What the orphanage says is best for her, whether we agree or not, we have to go along with it. 

Wednesday I got a call that said we needed to bring her in for a shot.  I thought it'd be quick, like the immunizations shots we've had to do.  I was wrong.  It's medicine given to her through an IV.  The IV is put into her forehead.  (Because that's where they think it's best to put it in babies.  Other children get it in their feet.)  It's supposed to stimulate brain growth and neurological development.  Many of the orphans get it until they are three years old.  It's administered ten days consecutively once a month.  (Somehow we got last month off.)

So, please pray for us these days as we have to travel thirty minutes across town (that's if we get a taxi quickly) and endure this painful process of seeing our little healthy, happy sweetheart scream and cry in pain and frustration.  What's been happening is that she screams for about ten minutes while they put it in, then is still mad for another fifteen.  Then she settles down for ten or fifteen minutes and then screams again when they take it out.  Then we can travel back home.  It's a couple hour ordeal.  Today was day #3.

"Wait, she's a..."

We’ve started taking Bella around town a bit. We carry her in an Ergo baby carrier on our front and she’s just big enough to peek over the top of it. Then when her bonnet is on (which is beautiful pink with lace on it that Mark purchased), her face is a little hard to see. So when people see two foreigners carrying a little bundle, they get very excited. They want to see a foreign baby. If they’re close enough to see her face, or brave enough to ask us, perplexed they say, “Uh, she looks Asian!” We say, “She is Asian. We’re going to adopt her.” Usually the response is, “oh that’s why she doesn’t look like you” or “wow, what a lucky little girl.” When I have the opportunity, I explain that luck has NOTHING to do with this. It is God’s perfect plan for the three of us.

Twice now, I have gotten a response that just melts my heart, “Thank you.” Two women have thanked me for taking care of one of their country’s orphans. Wow. Adoption is not common in this country. In fact, it’s a cultural taboo. If it’s done, it’s often not talked about, ever. A good friend of mine was raised by her aunt and uncle thinking they were her parents. No one told her the truth until she was eighteen. We do not think adoption is something to be ashamed about or hidden. We will proudly tell our daughters and everyone who asks that we have adopted children to be our own. But to have these women tell me thank you…I've already explained, I’m the one who’s thankful. I should be thanking God and the orphanage workers and the government for giving me such a precious and priceless gift. The gift of a daughter.

Although she doesn’t look like us, and although it’ll still be months before she legally belongs in our family, she’s already very much our daughter.

About a month ago...

...my housework began to look like this.  :)

DIY Fun

We've been enjoying a few crafty things around here lately. 

Project #1:  Bows!

The orphanage workers shaved our beautiful Bella's hair a few days before leaving the orphanage.  It was a bit uneven, and they claim it'll grow in nice and thick when they're older if you keep shaving it when they're babies.  Well, I'm hoping that day was the last day our daughter's hair was shaved and that from now on it can grow long.  It's currently grown to about one centimeter.  So, she needs beautiful bows.  My mom sent me this little headband, and I made the bow below!

Project #2:  Wall Art

We saw this  at IKEA:

 And we thought, "we can do that."  So we did.

My projects usually start out with me thinking, "It shouldn't be too hard.  I can do this."  And then I can't do some part and I have to ask Mark to jump in.  He really has an artist's eye.  The placement of the butterflies and the troublesome part of cutting them all out was all him.  Thank you for saving me once again, my dear! 

They look pretty good, don't they?